At Wellesley, few things stir up more online discourse than berry brunch lines, housing lotteries, and, perhaps most controversially, boyfriends on campus. The first time I mentioned I had a boyfriend, I was met with “are you really going to bring him here?” I was shocked. Was it the ultimate sin? Was I desecrating our temple? Was I destined to measure the passage of time not in days, but in Fuck Truck rides? At Wellesley, boyfriends are more than just boyfriends — they’re political, symbolic, and sometimes, everyone’s business. This week, we’re diving into the complicated etiquette, unspoken rules, and ramifications of being a WLM on campus.
For this week’s column, I’m focusing on the question of what bringing your off-campus boy-toy into our sacred space entails, and sprinkling in some advice along the way. To inform this column I spoke with past and present boyfriend havers, observers/those who have never had or wanted to bring a boyfriend to our hallowed halls, and last but indeed least, a few current Wellesley boyfriends (their handlers were nice enough to let them out of their cages).
To set the scene, seemingly every other month a new post on Sidechat sparks outrage about boyfriends on campus. These posts usually range from girlfriends complaining about getting weird looks to observers expressing discomfort about having to see boyfriends in the dorms, particularly in the bathroom. In the words of Jesus, a house divided cannot stand. Today, I intend to install some columns and strengthen the structural integrity of our divided house, and maybe, just maybe, turn it into a divided home.
As someone who has both brought boyfriends here (not at the same time #notpoly), and also frequently looks at boyfriends on campus, I’ve always been able to empathize with both sides of the debate. Maybe it’s because I’m generally oblivious, but I personally cannot recall a time when a boyfriend and I have received glares or weird looks; however, I can imagine how uncomfortable it would be to be on the receiving end of those stares. I remember when I first brought a boyfriend here, I felt self-conscious, I didn’t want to be seen walking with him to and from the alumni loco stop. It felt like walking down a poorly lit street at night, never knowing what cool gay person might pop out from the shadows and judge me. This feeling of preemptive embarrassment was echoed by most of the current and former boyfriend-havers I spoke to. This could stem from internalized heterophobia, or more likely a feeling of responsibility, both to our community and for our boyfriends’ actions.
What if he does something wrong? What if he accidentally says something offensive? As a former girlfriend put it perfectly, “I have to media-train them before they get here.” At Wellesley, we hold ourselves to a high standard that even the most polite, well-intentioned woke boyfriend might not meet. To quell worries, I recommend reviewing the basics: remind him of your friends’ preferred pronouns and that we’re a historically women’s college. This will help ease his nerves, too.
100% of the Wellesley boyfriends who gave me a comment remarked that they feel nervous on campus. Another interesting data analysis reveals that 86% of Wellesley boyfriends have four-letter names. The mode of this data set is Mike, with three separate instances within the past year. I also find it not to be statistically insignificant that these names tend to be verbs like Drew, Will, Jack… interesting. Anyway, getting back to the nervous thing, one boyfriend describes his approach by saying “the best Wellesley boyfriend is the one you don’t know exists,” and his owner, sorry, girlfriend, adds that “he is frightened of being seen too often.”
Feeling out of place seems to be a common theme, with one of the Mikes equating the awkwardness and uneasiness he feels to “when you go into a room expecting it to be empty, but it’s actually full of people.” How poetic.
Another girlfriend spoke for her man saying “he didn’t think he was allowed to come on campus, and was worried people would be mean to him, but once he came over a couple of times he started getting more comfortable.” She added that “as a Babson frat man I think he feels like he might be the antichrist to this campus, but I think we are more accepting of him than he expected.”
So what is it that they’re afraid of??
One boyfriend, who follows his girlfriend around “like a little duckling,” is even uneasy going for seconds in the dining hall without her. She thinks it’s “because of all the stares he gets,” although she admits “it’s part of the campus culture. I love staring at other people’s significant others cause I’m just nosey like that.” This is how many of us on campus feel.
When I see a boyfriend, I’ll be the first to admit that I do look at them. I’ll confess, sometimes I’ll even look them up and down, not to convey a message of “you’re not welcome here,” but rather, I’m evaluating if they are hot or not, especially if they are with their partner.
My eyes linger, not out of malice, but out of inquisitiveness. As one observer put it, they have a “morbid curiosity.” Another non-boyfriend-haver said, “it’s like seeing a lost dog, or an alien species, I guess.” “I’m not criticizing, I’m assessing his vibe. Is he chill? Can I tell what school he goes to? Is he attractive? Is he hot enough to be with his girlfriend?” All this points to a shocking conclusion: is being a Wellesley boyfriend as close as a man can get to experiencing what it’s like to be a woman in the real world?
So yes, there is a certain fascination that accompanies seeing young cis men on campus. It’s not a daily occurrence, and it’s only natural that our eyes fall upon them. But these glances aren’t inherently negative, so in a sense, we boyfriend-havers have pathologized ourselves.
On the other hand, one girlfriend explained that she is often the one who receives the glares, not her boyfriend. She also told me about a time at steps when a group of first-years wouldn’t stop yelling amongst themselves “why the fuck is there a man here,” but didn’t say anything directly to the couple or the large group they were in. As an interracial couple, she and her boyfriend can’t help but suspect “some of it could be racism as well and not just misandry vibes.”
The last thing to address here is the bathroom issue. As is policy, boyfriends should use the bathrooms labeled “sibs and guests,” however, that isn’t always realistic. The boyfriend without a four-letter name explained that his girlfriend lives on the fifth floor, and the only guest bathroom is on the first floor. I think we can all agree that it’s unreasonable to expect him to make that voyage consistently.
To mitigate the Sidechat commenters’ worries, I think it’s best practice to accompany your boyfriend to the communal bathroom during normal hours, when your hallmates might also be there. This is obviously easier if you synchronize your pee schedules, although number two is harder to coordinate.
To all the boyfriend-havers, for the sake of you, your boyfriend, and your sibs, you should face your homonormativity fears and all the looks. Just let your boyfriend be Velcroed to you (he wants to anyway). And to the observers and so-called boyfriend haters, understand that, like it or not, men are here to stay. They’re out there in the real world, and sometimes they’re here too.
