WASHINGTON — Since the temperature has dropped, it seems like everyone’s been quick to couple up. That’s right, the infamous “cuffing season” is upon us. I did my due diligence, attending mixers and parties, endlessly swiping and posing. I’ve been roaming the library, slipping my panties into the open backpack of any man unfortunate enough to be sitting alone out of range of the security cameras, but I’ve come up short. While all of my friends and classmates have been whisked into the beautiful vortex of collegiate romance, I remain the final tree left rooted into the ground of this extended metaphor.
Yes, everyone is copulating and fornicating except for me. However, a few days ago when my roommate left the house, presumably to get banged out, she left NPR blaring over our SONOS sound system. Laying in bed alone, I was, at first, annoyed. Minutes later, though, a certain piece of information caught my ear: everyone’s favorite “YAS QUEEN” feminist #icon THE Notorious RBG is also #ForeverAlone after the painfully tragic death of her husband from metastasized testicular cancer in 2010, and I was like #MeToo.
On Saturday mornings, while my friends brunch with their baes at that place with light up “Rosé All Day” sign, I’m usually watching “Law and Order: SVU” and yanking one out. I’d imagine that Ruth Bader Ginsburg does the same thing. While regulation hottie Chief Justice John Roberts is out getting his knob polished, Ruth hangs back and reads Joan Didion’s The White Album again, and something about that makes me feel less alone.