It’s Been A While

By

From the aspiring e.e. (not)cummings.

By HUNTER ORCHARDS

I feel like I have unlimited minutes for texting but still only using facebook messenger

I haven’t sent a legitimate text in MONTHS

I wouldn’t even know my own number, that’s how infrequently the old gal has gotten any calls

The only one blowing up my phone is my grill order notifying me it’s done.


If I were to get felt up right now, my moans would sound like the old dial-up internet whirring

There would be a “page 404 error” because the site you’re seeking no longer exists

It’s been so long that you’d need to resubmit your two-step verification to log in again

 

My sex life is a lot like climate change:

  1. Many people are sure it never existed and was always a hoax
  2. I’m stressed out about it

The Earth is heating up but my sex life sure isn’t

I feel like a broom closet in kirkland that nobody realized was there but a senior stored some boxes there and forgot them, so there’s just a letterman jacket from 1963 accumulating dust.

And the old door handle is broken so even though there isn’t a lock on it, it’s impossible to jiggle it just right in order for it to open.

 

I’m like a class that got really great Q-Guide scores but isn’t being offered this semester.

I took time off to get more involved with a nice research project I heard about last semester.

But my data all came back inconclusive.

And I didn’t get any funding.

And my graduate students quit.

 

I spent a couple of months comping but realized that maybe it’s not the club for me.

Except now I’m off all of the email list-servs and my extracurriculars are DRY.

 

I’m more tense than when Canvas hits you up with a notification that your midterm grade is unmuted.

But then after you grab lunch, get yourself a nice cup of hot chocolate, and settle into that really cozy chair to check,

You find that the teacher hasn’t actually uploaded it yet.

 

The only thing keeping me up all night is this problem set and I have no idea what I’m doing but the satisfaction when I finish is the most intense reminder of what alternative plans could be.

Seeing my project partner doing the right hand rule during physics class to figure out the homework left me weak.

 

A strong gust of wind hitting me just right would wipe me out and leave me leaning against the nearest wall needing a Gatorade break ASAP.

 

It’s been so long that seeing the shuttle suddenly appear at the stop I just arrived at gets my heart rate pumping.

Seeing an email over the house list about leftover pizza in the dining hall is the only thing that’s gotten my pupils dilated and my legs to quiver lately.

 

California may be out of its drought but I’m still out here watching FUJI water commercials to get my kicks.

 

My sex life is hanging on by a thread. My libido is in dire need of life alert, which is just a booty call but with more steps.

 

I’m 85% sure the mouse scratching on my wall has been trying to sext me via morse code, because after the second week I’ve started to pick up a pattern of long and short taps every time I try to fall asleep.

 

Hunter Orchards ‘18 ([email protected]) hasn’t taken herself seriously in a solid decade.