Student debates whether ‘liking’ friend’s thirst trap is okay

Humor by Micah Chung
Multimedia by Jenny Ballutay
Published Nov. 12, 2026, 11:52 p.m., last updated Nov. 12, 2026, 11:52 p.m.

Editor’s Note: This article is purely satirical and fictitious. All attributions in this article are not genuine, and this story should be read in the context of pure entertainment only.

“What am I supposed to do in this situation?” mused sophomore Sophia Ballinger ’29 to herself as her gaze rested upon her friend’s latest Instagram post.

The post, which had garnered 1,235 likes as of press time, displayed Ballinger’s friend Joseph Ulusoy ’29 posing shirtless in a hot tub with a glistening silver necklace. Ulusoy’s chiseled pecs and lightly curly chest hair were artistically juxtaposed with the poetic caption, which read, “who want me? heart emoji kiss emoji.” 

Ballinger, who had recently grown close to Ulusoy after sharing a deep heart-to-heart over their respective insecurities, hovered her finger over the like button with the gravity of a world leader preparing to fire a nuclear salvo.

Aware that not liking the post might incorrectly imply that she was not interested in the friendship of the 6’3 “hottie” with abs reminiscent of a Greek god, Ballinger was simultaneously reticent to press the like button, for fear it could be misconstrued as lust for his admittedly ethereally carved jawline rather than her feelings of strictly platonic affection.

“Is it more respectful to look at his bare chest or avert my eyes?” Distressed, Ballinger summoned her roommate, Jenny Ward ’29, to also look at the image. 

Ward’s only comment was reportedly “Damn!”

In a state of panic, Ballinger briefly decided to repost rather than like as a way of showing her tacit approval. However, confronted with the reality that she would have a shirtless man with a blindingly radiant smolder peeking out at her every time she checked her page, she ultimately chose not to, smacking her forehead with the palm of her hand and repeating “Stupid, stupid!” to herself.

Illuminated by the dim glow of her phone’s screen, Ballinger tore chunks of her hair out before ultimately deciding to post a story saying that she was deleting her Instagram to focus on her studies. She then began doomscrolling on her spam account.

Columnist and writer, c/o ‘30—reach out anytime at [email protected]!

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