Anyway, she's the one who garners coos from everyone at the dining hall table, not me. She gets to make puppy dog eyes, while I'm the bad guy. I get the thrill of making jabs. She gets the sympathy.

There may be plenty of you out there who must think I'm crazy, or that she's crazy to stay with someone who's such a constant pain in the neck. But in the end, we're happy. That's Valentine's Day for the strange, I guess.

Michael K. Mayo '94 is associate editorial chair of The Crimson. We asked him to write because he's attached.

*

Joe Mathews

Being a man on Valentine's Day isn't easy. You're full of anxiety over the need to do something wildly romantic. But I'd rather be a man on this or any other day than have to be a woman on this campus or any other.

Others will try to sugarcoat it, but the fact is this: For a woman, the Harvard social scene is nothing more than an intellectualized meat market. A few principled women refuse to put themselves on display, but many more give into the market, spending more time than is healthy worrying about butts that are too big and breasts that are too small.

And Valentine's Day just adds to the insecurities, particularly those of the young woman who is beauless.

It's not that Harvard is very different in this respect from the rest of the world. And men are certainly not immune to insecurities about their looks and their place in the social scene.

But I, for one, am disappointed by many of the women I've met here. It's sad that some of the world's brightest, most engaging, most attractive people waste so much time trying to look better.

Worse still, this obsession with appearance makes it especially hard to get to know Harvard women. Many raise their guards around all men, large and small. I'm not dumb--I know there are reasons for this. Some men deliberately try to take advantage of women. And men can be particularly cruel to women who don't look good.

But in all of the crash diets, Stairmaster sessions and cold glances shot to any man who dares to advance the conversation past classes or the weather, a romantic ideal has been lost. Sure, most guys are creeps. But a few of us aren't, and it's worth your while to try to find out which are which.

So for Valentine's Day I offer, with all due respect, a suggestion to some of Harvard's women. Take a break and let your guard down. Find a male friend--it doesn't have to be someone you're interest in, just someone you like--and take a walk, bake a cake, shoot some hoops, or just find a quiet place to sit with him.

And while you're there, tell stories. Touch. Hug. There's no pressure. Sharing is just about the most romantic thing I know of, and it might even burn some calories.

Joe Mathews is an investigative reporter for The Crimson. We asked him to write because he's sentimental.