They had met at an outrageous Whitman party. Hormones surged as the potential couple began to high-key grind on each other. It all happened in a split second. The next morning they were spotted at Cleveland, delicately sipping on soy lattes, and then literally in the next two days they were spotted holding hands, and sitting on the same side of tables together. The story of their love was passionate, intense and very gossip-worthy.

However, after three weeks the campus braced themselves, and slowly the wheels of drama began to turn. The news slowly spread across campus, like spreading cold butter on toast. Apparently, their romance had fizzled out in the wee hours of a Sunday night like peeing on a dying camp fire.

And you know what? Those eager Whitman students ate it up like hot soup on a cold Walla Walla day. The symbolic ‘tea’ was flying. Some community members outside of the college might assume that Whitman students pursue highly intellectual conversations about Marxism and capitalism in their spare time, but this is where the blunder occurs. What does the general population really care about… The fact that the quickest, and hottest new couple will not be seen together anymore, and there are two new bodies on the market. Let the dog fights begin. (And, when I say dog fights what I really mean is cordial conversations and meals that might amount to something more than just platonic banter.)