Tara Maher     What's Love Got To Do With It? Valentine's Day is once again upon us and Cupid, that tunnel-visioned nymph has failed to pop a cap in my ass. Weep not for me, but rather for yourselves. It is my belief that wee Cupid has missed the U.Va. student body completely. Perhaps he flew past Hooville under the assumption that Virginia is for lovers. The question remains, however: is U.Va.? Let's look at the facts. A friendly campus (grounds is far too lofty for this column's purpose) we are not. 'Hoos battle with spells of vertigo on a daily basis, attempting to avoid eye contact with anything and anyone. Medusa had an easier time getting looks from the fellas. Scoff none at these remarks, for I include myself. Where does the Love Doctor need to pay a visit? Rugby Road is a good place to start. Do not be fooled by the pleasant demeanor of those who swarm over Beta Bridge. Those Saturday night nomads are already hopped up on some of the good stuff and have only their destination in mind. There can be no delays, Natty Light and cat fights await. Although the thrill of free beer never seems to wane for the college student, cat fights are always anti-climactic and never end up in an all-out mud wrestle. I suppose amore is bound to be found lacking at a university where students call every formal way of meeting a "function." There's absolutely no need to sound that anal-retentive when talking about social events. I take back my original statement about Cupid's dumb-ass assumption. We may as well have mowed out "DORKS" on the Lawn. He took one look at this lost cause and passed on by. I'm sure Washington and Lee is now reaping the benefits of Cupid's extra bow. It's hard to be positive about Valentine's Day when most of the male population's idea of romance is splitting a twelve-pack in their room. There's nothing like six Schlitz and fifteen minutes of idle chatter to give any girl the warm fuzzies. Also, the female population is graced with women who don't realize that running around like man-hungry Chihuahuas on speed doesn't enhance sexual magnetism. (I dare anyone to take offense to comments. Everyone secretly agrees but no one has the "yabbos" to just come out and say it.) My bitterness stems from the fact that a school perpetuated by long-standing tradition has lost the traditional practices of courtship. Whatever happened to the cute way guys would say "You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here" instead of "Don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out." The notorious "Walk of Shame" should be ventured by both parties involved, or at least the guy should give directions for the fastest possible way home. Far too many times I've seen those unfortunate "functionettes" take the Orange line from Rugby when they clearly should have taken the Blue. Now that the problems have been addressed, solutions can be pondered. What would Jefferson do? If you've seen Jefferson in Paris, you would know that he was a lover, not a fighter. It was his inventions that got him all the ladies. Ingenuity is the buzz word, lads ... INGENUITY! Going out to grab a beer is passé; discover romance in tantric beer making. On my honor, men who shell out 40 bucks at Kmart for the homemade beer maker will reap the benefits of time-consuming beer-making with their significant other. You will find that the time you spend perfecting the ultimate hops and barley experience is a useful way to get annoying (what's your major, what's your name) chatter out of the way. Your groove will be on once that first cup is poured. Although not all of the ills of U.Va. social life can not be solved in one column, I hope I woke some of us up and put Cupid back on our side again. How could he not be, anyway? He's Greek. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to get a tattoo of a bullseye on my fanny. Hell's bells if he's missing me next year.

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