Almost three years ago to the day, I submitted my first-ever contribution to The Heights: an arguably (over)dramatic piece about my ever-growing hatred for Valentine’s Day. Even as I poured out my frustrations onto the page in front of me, some semblance of hope still burned within me. I hadn’t yet closed myself off from the idea of a spark making its way into my life.

After all, I was only 19. My entire college career was still a long, winding road ahead of me. Surely I wouldn’t make it through the next three years without at least a hint of the romance, or even heartbreak, I’d always fantasized about.

Yet at 22, I can only look back and attribute this hope to naive optimism. My time at Boston College is coming to a close, and while I hardly recognize my freshman-year self in most aspects, my love life has stayed painfully stagnant.

As someone who grew up naively believing that romance would unexpectedly stumble into my life, it’s hard not to harbor a little resentment as I walk past store windows filled with roses and weave through couples holding hands come February. It feels like a stinging reminder that love stories do exist in real life.

But nobody has held a boombox outside my window or written me one letter for each day of the year. If my life were televised, it would look a bit more similar to Rory Gilmore’s public rejection in the communal laundry room.

My lack of personal dating successes has, however, opened up quite a bit of time to observe the role of romance on campus. And I’ve learned that I’m not the only one who feels like romance’s presence has been shockingly underwhelming compared to what I once dreamt it might look like.

Short-term. Low-commitment. Not serious. Casual. Situationship.

These words echo across the quad and fill the dining halls hundreds of times each day. Short-term doesn’t inherently equate to toxicity, but I think college dating culture, especially from what I’ve observed at BC, has normalized a lack of consideration in unlabeled relationships.

Avoidance seems to be at the root of every failed attempt at connection. I can’t tell you how many of my friends have been ghosted out of the blue, leaving us all pulling at threads in search of an explanation we won’t ever find.

How many empty promises to text later have been abandoned at the door? How many tears have been shed over an unprovoked BC lookaway? How many times has ghosting been justified with the excuse that the situation “was never that serious”?

This lack of communication and confrontation only fuels future anxieties around dating. It’s hard to break free from the cyclical and cynical mindset that begs us to question why, if one person makes us feel unworthy of an explanation, the next person to come along won’t do the same.

Trust me, I’d much rather get rejected over the phone in a friend’s apartment than find out through a friend that the guy I’d been waiting for a text from all day decided I was “too much.” Yes, it might hurt to hear that someone doesn’t feel the same way about you, but I promise it’s a million times less painful than being left hanging with no explanation.

Pretending not to care has, unfortunately, manifested itself in the ultimate form of self-preservation. And in choosing to protect ourselves, our avoidance, sometimes unknowingly, becomes someone else’s source of hurt. As much as we should look out for ourselves, I think we all need to be a bit more conscientious of how our actions affect others. No sort of intimacy, emotional or physical, deserves to be thrown aside without second thought.

It might be uncomfortable, but I guarantee that sending a simple text is better than ghosting every time. As sad as it is to say aloud, just getting a text back has become overly romanticized, as if basic communication is an unattainable feat worthy of praise.

The situations my friends and I have unpacked for weeks upon weeks are never the ones wrapped up neatly with a clean break. They’re the ones that ended unexpectedly and unanswered. Inconclusion has been a catalyst for some of the worst spirals I’ve ever witnessed (and experienced). Don’t be the person who lets one communicative oversight or a moment of confrontational fear shatter someone’s perception of romance.

Your current situationship might not be the person you spend the rest of your life with, but that doesn’t mean healthy communication can’t still exist. Learning how to be slightly moreemotionally available and gathering some sense of communicative clarity will only open you upfurther to the possibility of love in the future.

While I don’t anticipate walking down the aisle of St. Ignatius in five years, and certainly won’t have any mention of the Mods in my wedding speeches, I’m not closing myself off from the idea that a connection might be just around the corner, whether just across campus or in a city I’ve yet to live in.

So, if you haven’t been struck by romance just yet, take it from a chronically single girl to keep your spark of hope alive for just a little longer. If we all approach dating with a bit more consideration and a little less avoidance, love might be able to bloom in unexpected places.