With Valentine’s Day coming up, chocolates at CVS rising in price and popularity and flowers turning into last-minute bouquets, I’ve been thinking a lot about relationships. Although many of my friendships at Stanford have been mistaken for romance by nosy onlookers, I am single (and also funny, charming and great with parents). I won’t have any plans on Friday, but this doesn’t bother me. I consider myself a pretty self-actualized woman who doesn’t define her self worth by relationship status or by how many people wave to me on my way to class. That being said, I can’t help feeling a little awkward when a long-distance boyfriend comes to visit or when two friends opt for a couple’s night in rather than a girls’ night out. It’s like having a beautiful plant in your room. Practically, you hate taking care of it every day… but it’s nice to have around.
Relationships are hard to maintain when you’re a full-time student. This is even more true in the wake of the pandemic and the corresponding rise of Internet friends. The number of Gen Zers in relationships is significantly lower than past generations. But uniquely here on campus, I’ve found it difficult to identify when a relationship has transcended circumstance and become personal. Are they trying to work together for our group project or trying to get to know me? Are the two mutually exclusive?
At Stanford, relationships have felt consistently transactional to me. I remember a conversation I had during New Student Orientation when my peer accidentally laughed out loud when I mentioned majoring in comparative literature. He then not-so-subtly turned to another person in the group, having determined I was no longer worth his attention. At a party, my friend and I saw someone exchange contact information through, not phone numbers or Instagram handles, but LinkedIn accounts. As the weather gets warmer and the countdown to graduation picks up, every conversation here feels loaded with the unspoken rising tension of summer internships. Conditioned by television, I thought the primary social currency in college would be attractiveness. Is the potential for career advancement the new hot?
The campus culture’s emphasis on profession and career makes people feel like they ought to prioritize personal gain over intangible emotional fulfillment or companionship. You study before you go out with your friends. You eat lunch in office hours instead of grabbing a bite with a classmate. As Stanford students, we are all familiar with sacrifice and prioritization. I spent weekends in high school debating and dancing, missing trips with friends, parties and quality time. I don’t regret my decisions. After all, they got me here. But to fully enjoy all Stanford has to offer, I make a point to schedule deliberate quality time with my loved ones.
These much needed relationships, romantic or otherwise, don’t have to come at the expense of your learning or networking. So far, I’ve actually learned more from my peers than any other group at college, whether it’s arguing about free will, sharing lived experiences or just debriefing a weird interaction someone had in class. We’re surrounded by the next great leaders, and taking the time to get to know them and maybe even change how they view the world might not be such a bad thing. However, the relationship must also be able to exist without the convenience of a shared goal or future. When a person no longer actively helps you further your career but you still consciously make time for them, you’ve got a relationship beyond personal gain.
In her book “All About Love,” bell hooks argued, “Trust is the heartbeat of genuine love.” This goes beyond trusting a partner’s fidelity or discretion about secrets you share, it requires a commitment to growth and change that is rooted in mutual respect. Relationships go from transactional to transformational when we yield the misconception of reciprocity and trust in our partner that gain does not have to be individual but a collective effort. One person’s success does not discount another’s. If we cling to the idea of relationships as building blocks to understanding ourselves rather than defining ourselves by those we love, we will never build the trust required for what bell hooks calls “genuine love.” Love is not an individual action or emotion: it’s a collaborative process. Trust that person. Take that leap of faith. Risk something of yours.
People are more than just coffee chats. For Valentine’s Day, I plan to spend some quality time with the people I love. Whether they’re here or at home, a lover or a friend, give that person a call for no reason other than to hear their voice. Maybe Big Love will give you a job.