STREET: 02/16 (Love & Lust Issue)

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The Daily Princetonian

Thursday february 16, 2017

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PAGES DESIGNED BY ANDIE AYALA AND CATHERINE WANG :: STREET EDITORS

LOVE & LUST

In honor of Valentine’s Day, STREET explores stories of heartbreak, marriage and everything in between. This issue marks the return of our anonymous “Love and Lust: In the Orange Bubble” column which illuminate the successes and failures of romance. Eliminate your expectation of cliché Hollywood romances with these candid narratives.

For You (and About You) This Could Have Been A Story About Us

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1. A confession: I make lists of what we might fight about (don’t worry, this is not that kind of list). I’m terrified of the inevitable mistakes, hurt, poisonous words. I can (and frequently do) imagine several lifetimes’ worth of failures and heartbreak, and it’s almost enough to make me want to run far, far away. 2. I find myself watching you: but then, you look at me. You grab my fingers or wrap your arms around me. You tell me something about yourself — a thought that makes me marvel at what your eyes observe, at the wiring of your brain, at the way you see the world. You tell me something about me that I didn’t even know and you’re excited by the act of knowing someone. 3. Me watching you watching me: I laugh, delighted, and you smile at me. You have this surprised look on your face, and I laugh again. 4. Another confession: You know, I had an idea of the person I would fall for, the perfect boyfriend. And you’re not him. And maybe that’s not good, but it’s good for me. Because you don’t fit into my plans (semester, five-year, life, any of them), but you keep me guessing, intrigued, curious. 5. Sometimes there’s logic: And sometimes it doesn’t make sense, but it works. And I like to know you and you like to know me, but we’ve never known this nameless familiarity, the feeling of being home. I get to learn more about

you every day and marvel at the roots of ourselves that we have in common, and it is a goddamn privilege to know you and to be known by you. 6. You asked me once if I had butterflies in my stomach: I don’t. I don’t have the “feeling”: the little flutters of liking someone. There’s no trepidation or jitteriness or jaggedness here. No, I feel a quiet kind of happy — a happiness thick like honey, sinking deep into my bones, all the way to the center of me. It’s like when I’m with you, the world can wait, because everything is OK. 7. Words: I write about you in my journal. A lot, right next to words like laughing, talking, exploring, asking, not counting. 8. Little stolen moments with you (stolen not because they’re not ours by right, but because they sneak up on me — these precious seconds that I lock away and relive and remember): I don’t know how much you remember of that night. Nose to nose. My hair slipping between our faces. Your hands, urgent, around my waist. I whispered in your left ear, why do you know me so well? You replied, because we’re us. 9. It’s typical: Two minutes later, you fell asleep sitting upright, me still on your lap, your face held between my hands (it was 5 a.m., but everything was OK). 10. Us: I like to spend time with you, too. -Anonymous

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This could have been a story about us. About how I felt lonely one night, so I went on the app that one uses for a good time and found you. This could have been a story about how we eventually decided to meet after a few days of talking. About how I bragged to my friends after we had sex that first night even though we had sworn we wouldn’t. This could have been a story about love. About how, even though I swore to my friends I’d never enter a relationship with a girl I met on Tinder, I had fallen for you. Talking with you slowly became a part of my daily routine. Staying over in each other’s dorms, eating dark-chocolate-covered blueberries, and listening to “Lay Me Down”’ by Sam Smith became our norm. I remember all the plans we made, about meeting each other’s family and maybe becoming official. Then I finally got to meet your sister, and we dropped her off at a pregame before going back to mine. I remember that pink moscato we shared right before heading out because my pregame got

shut down and we hadn’t had anything yet. I even remember how we had what seemed like the best sex I’d ever had and, for a moment, I thought I loved you. But I wasn’t expecting what came next. I wasn’t expecting the tears streaming down your face as your head rested on my chest. I wasn’t expecting your confession that you weren’t yet over your ex, your first heartbreak. And I definitely wasn’t expecting you to break up with me as you sported my Princeton long sleeve on that following Monday. What can I say? You broke me. The man I thought I had become was now an inconsolable mess who didn’t want to interact with friends, who stayed in bed for four whole days, and who cried at any thought of you. It was funny how people would tell me you weren’t worth it and how “I’m an amazing guy,” but those felt like empty words any friend would say to console someone who wasn’t good enough. So, instead, this is a story about my own first heartbreak and the regrettable choices that came with it. See, I

thought I found someone shortly after you. We went on cute dates and took a road trip. And I met her parents. And she told me the three words you never said. She even likes dark-chocolatecovered blueberries like you do and, for a moment, I thought I loved her too. But I realized that I don’t. And I’m too scared to let her down because I’m scared of breaking her the way you broke me. I know I’ll have to do it eventually, but I don’t yet have the courage to perpetuate the cycle that you started. So, no matter whoever you are with now, I just hope that you’ve learned as much from this as I have. I’m not happy about the decisions that I’ve made after you left, and I know I’m the only one to blame for them. But if there’s one thing I can thank you for — and it’s really the only thing — it’s that you taught me to feel something I had never felt before. And I hope I get to feel that way in the future with someone who cherishes me the way I once thought you did. -Anonymous

Married Faculty at Princeton: Suzanne Staggs and Jason Puchalla MIKAELA SYMANOVICH Contributor ‘20

This week, while most students were preoccupied dreaming up their own Valentine’s Day wishes or plans, I took the time to sit down with professor Suzanne Staggs and lecturer Jason Puchalla to talk about being a married couple in the Princeton bubble. Staggs has been a professor of physics at Princeton for roughly 20 years now, focusing on cosmology and astrophysics, while Puchalla is a physics lecturer and maintains an active research lab, investigating a wide range of biophysical phenomena. The couple first met at physics conference in Chicago in the ‘90s, but the two have slightly different versions of the story. “He claims we met earlier than I think we met,” Staggs noted. According to Puchalla, the two first encountered each other at a very large physics conference, before officially meeting at a later conference. “In a room of physicists, she stood out to me,” he explained.

COURTESY OF PRINCETON.EDU

COURTESY OF PRINCETON.EDU

The two were both studying at the University of Chicago at the time and working on cosmology and astrophysics. Staggs was pursuing a postdoctoral position while Puchalla was studying as a graduate student. However, as they recalled, they were brought together again when working under the same

mentor on their respective projects. They had their first date following the conference during the Mardi Gras celebration in Chicago. The band Big Guitars was playing in the bar that they went to together. Since then, their work and relationship brought them to the East Coast.

Initially, they did research together in the area of cosmology and astrophysics. Over time, while Staggs has continued to teach and research cosmology and astrophysics, Puchalla has become involved in research in biophysics. When asked about the difference of academic interests, Puchalla said, “She looks up, and I look down!” “He knows what I’m talking about, but I don’t know what he is talking about,” Staggs joked. In 1996, Staggs began work at Princeton as an assistant professor, while Puchalla was completing his post doc. “I got the call [that Staggs was in labor] while I was in the lab at the University of Pennsylvania performing a particularly dangerous task,” Puchalla said. He joked that “what I was doing in the lab had the potential to blow up, and I made some inappropriate comment like, ‘can you wait a little?’’’ He got there in time, but they made the decision to both work at the same place after that experience, which they perceive as a turning point in their relationship. After their first child was born, the couple decided that it would be too dif-

ficult to work in separate places. Today they live in Princeton with their two daughters, ages 15 and 18. The couple admitted, “We use all sorts of geeky physics language at home, that our kids don’t always understand. On a microscope, the big mirror is called the primary and the little mirror is called the secondary, so we used to refer to our kids as primary and secondary, especially when one was a toddler and the other just a baby.” Outside of work and spending time with their children, Puchalla and Staggs still enjoy hiking and backpacking. Their adventures have included tackling the Adirondack Mountains together as well as traveling to Italy. They have also recently visited Brazil. With overwhelmingly busy schedules, Valentine’s Day hasn’t been on the couple’s mind. They said that they normally take a relaxed approach to the holiday, fitting it in when they find the time. Reflecting on how often they see each other during the workday, Puchalla laughed, “She is on the second floor and I am on the first floor. We see each other at faculty meetings.”


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STREET: 02/16 (Love & Lust Issue) by The Daily Princetonian - Issuu