TO ALL THE LAW BOYS IVE LOVED BEFORE Words by Christiana Michaels
Hello fellas. If you’ve seen the title to this piece and started to sweat a little in fear that I’ll mention you, relax. To clarify, I certainly will, but only in a discrete and convoluted codex that only we and a few selective friends will understand. Let the games begin. We all know that the dating scene within Ligertwood is pungent with regret, gossip, and constant reminders of adventures at the stadium seating outside Law Ball. Like the exploits of Kakavas in the Crown Casino [2013] HCA 25, it typically ends disastrously (being an incestuous cohort as by-product of overlapped double dipping). So, what is the attraction to fellow law students? Why do we continue to do this to ourselves after reiterating it’s the ‘last time’? Perhaps it’s the illustrious daydream of two legally superior and academic individuals becoming a united force of managing partners. Maybe it’s the supposably ironic swipe right after seeing a ‘law student’ reference in a Tinder bio. It could even be an underlying attachment to high school paradigms that correspond with the convenience of place, age, and aligned politics. Whatever the cause, one thing is clear: the ongoing search for our very own law school Peter Kavinsky has resulted in the line-up of assholes young men who have captured our hearts, and personally played into my GOG (Greek Orthodox Guilt). First, we have the encounters that are predominantly intoxicated mistakes, occurring in the dark depths of Loverboy, or the Riverbank after a steamy evening in the RCC’s Neon Forest. Although these incidents are harmless for our hearts, they are detrimental for our reputation, dignity and lecture seating selection.
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