February is a beautiful month, full of heart shaped bears, candies, flowers and love letters. On a small campus like Skidmore’s, it can sometimes feel as though couples surround us. In order to sooth your valentines worries, feel free to live vicariously through this Skidmore Crush Madlib!
“How many finals is too many finals?” You quietly wondered to yourself, tapping a (insert color) pen on your corner third-floor library cubical, making sure to smack the love struck graffiti remnants carved into the desk. (Insert name) loves (insert name). Thouroughbred’s hate the (insert sports team). You can’t help but roll your (color) eyes, and beat the tune of (song) a little bit faster. These people, the ones shameless enough to carve their affections into the library, were in something like love. You wanted to vomit, partially because you had fifteen (insert delicious food) in D-Hall that morning, but mostly because you probably were too. (He/she) was in your (class), and every morning you waddled eagerly out of (Insert res-hall), just to run into him on your way to (academic building). You never said “hi”, or anything, of course. That would be crazy. You would just admire (his/her) (color) hair, (adjective) backpack that was always way too (adjective), as (he/she) walked (his/her) (adjective) walk.
“Hey,” a whisper snaps you out of your trance, “this is the quiet floor you know. Save that table drumming for Pulse.” With a whip of your head you look up to see (him/her), flashing (his/her) pearly (plural color) at you. Dear Glotzbach, you pleaded silently, thinking of the beautiful Skidmore sweat pant groutfit you wore, not today. You looked rather shocked, mouth agape, struggling for words, but (he/she) held out (his/her) hand for yours. You start to (adverb) (sad verb), but you muster the courage to (verb) his hand. “I’m (insert name of crush).” It’s (adjective), and it feels as though you’ve been shaking hands for hours when you pull away.
You clear your throat, but flash him your (insert number) dollar smile. “Yeah, I’m (insert name). I think you’re actually in my (insert class from earlier), right?”
(He/she) nods, “yeah I am. I’ve been in here studying all day for our exam.”
You laugh (adverb), “Me too. I’m exhausted!”
(He/she) smiles, “How about we get out of here? I’m starving and D-Hall seems (insert adjective) tonight.”
You can hardly stop yourself from nodding aggressively. As you plop your (plural noun), into your backpack, you hear (insert crushes name) clear (his/her) throat. “I, uh, hope you don’t mind, but my ride is here.”
You raise your (facial feature), instantly in a panic, “What do you mean your ride?”
(He/she) gestures towards a lone bookshelf, “Our ride to D-hall of course.” Suddenly, you see a peculiar sight emerge from behind its small academic hiding space.
“Is that…President Glotzbach?” Your jaw drops. “On a(n) (insert animal)?”
Your crush laughs a(n) (adjective) laugh, “Of course! President Glotzbach and his mighty steed, (insert any name), always picks me up when I’m on a date.”
“Are we on a date now?” You wonder innocently.
(He/she) smiles again and takes your hand, “Glotzbach? What do you think? Are (insert your name) and I on a date?”
“If I dare say, I’ve yet to see a more perfect skid-couple in my many years of presidency,” Glotzbach says, laughing heartily.
And as you sat on the steed, your date by your side, you doubted that you’d ever felt more (adjective). And you rode off towards D-hall that evening, as the sun set behind the Tang, campus glowing in the warm afternoon light of newfound love.