Having a study buddy is so intimate. You see, I have one, and we have this transactional arrangement where we meet late at night in his dorm, handle our business, and then leave once we’re satisfied. This happens week after week. And yet, despite the fact that I’ve spent more late nights with my study buddy than with any potential romantic partner, I know nothing about him. It’s almost as if we’re fuck buddies, but instead of hooking up sexually, we hook up academically. My love life may be dry, but my grades? Wet as hell.
Instead of getting “it” up, we get our grades up. It’s that simple. There’s no small talk, no “what’s your favorite movie?” nonsense. I don’t know if he’s a dog person, where he’s from, or even what his last name is. And I don’t care.
He sees me at my most vulnerable –– greasy hair, stained sweatpants, manic sobbing during finals week –– and he’s still willing to grind it out. Academically, of course. If that doesn’t count as a soul tie, I don’t know what does.
So, if we’re counting bodies out here, let’s not forget about study buddies. While UCLA might not be helping my love life, it’s got me hooking up in the freakiest, most GPA-boosting way possible. And either way, I’m definitely smoking a cigarette afterward because this academic edging is too much for me.