Dear Wendy, 

My evil Satan-serving bitch of an RA won’t let me leave my wet, salty shoes in the hallway. What can I do to free myself of this tyranny?

Sincerely,

Quint Resident

Reluctantly Barefoot

Dear Quint Resident, 

First of all, I want to validate your struggle. Nothing screams “authoritarian regime” like a passive-aggressive targeted email reminder. History’s greatest tyrants (think Napoleon, College Board, etc.) have all begun their reigns the same way: by enforcing fire code. I think. I haven’t taken a history class since high school.

You could, of course, choose peace: consider the radical act of bringing your shoes inside. I know, I know. The very thought of cohabitating with your own damp Docs may feel like a violation of your constitutional rights. But freedom, as the philosophers remind us, ends where the Res Life handbook begins. If you truly cannot bear the oppression, I suggest the following:

• Email your RA an informative paper, something along the lines of “Taking, Making and Holding: The Politics of Shared Spaces: A Cross-Cultural Study on Hallways: The Musical: The Series” or the newly published NYT op-ed, “Your Shoes Need Third Spaces Too”
• Rebrand the shoes as an art installation titled A Mile In My Shoes. Title IX anyone who dares object.
• Reject shoes altogether, go barefoot. Everywhere.

Or you can just hit that salty bitch with a Swiffer. Your call.

Sincerely, 

Wendy “Raw-dawgin-it” Wellesley

Dear Wendy, 

Why am I better than everyone else?

Sincerely,

P.M. & T.D.

Totally Anonymous

Dear P.M. & T.D., 

Contrary to popular belief, I am actually better than everyone else. Unfortunately, the paradox created by these conflicting statements means that one of us has to die. I have more questions to answer, so I would say goodbye to your loved ones. 

Sincerely, 

Wendy “Who Needs Editors” Wellesley

Dear Wendy, 

Seeing all of these story posts of happy couples is bumming me out. How do I find my own beautiful, budding romance so that I can, in turn, make other people feel bad about themselves?

Sincerely,

Soft-launch survivor

Needs to get off Instagram

Dear Soft-launch survivor,

I want to first commend your willingness to admit your need for something more important than love: content. Self-awareness is the first step towards becoming absolutely insufferable online #growth! Let’s work on getting you as much attention as possible. Have you considered:

• Posting the back of someone’s head at the Isabella Stewart Gardner 
• Fumbling to find your one card at the door of Lulu as a crowd of people slowly forms behind you
• Telling someone that you’re just going through, like, a really hard time right now (but are being super brave about it and don’t really want to talk about it)
• Thinking about (but not actually running) a marathon
• Using Instagram Notes

Another thing about Valentine’s Day, just for the record: it’s not about romance, it’s about who’s the best at logistics. That Saltie Girl reservation was booked three months ago (and that couple on your feed only met last month). Game the system. Win. Your job is not to be in love—it’s to visibly have been chosen between 7:00 and 9:15 p.m.

And remember, the true measure of success isn’t finding a partner who loves and respects you—it’s reminding everyone else that they haven’t yet. So, sib, this is my wish for you: may your relationship be public, may it end up on sidechat, and may your ex be watching. 

Sincerely, 

Wendy “Drowning in Hoes” Wellesley