We all know the words: we’re strong, we’re powerful, we’re independent. We dress sexy because we “love our bodies,” not because we need male attention. We hit ‘em and quit ‘em. We wait twice as long as they did to respond to their Snapchats. We leave them on ‘open’ and ‘read’. We don’t care at all, we have each other, we haven’t thought about them in months. Obviously. Honestly. Right?

I have met more than my share of badass, independent women. I’ve even befriended a few of them. My friends are triple D1 athletes and practicing EMTs and the inspiration behind half the love poems I’ve ever written. I am surrounded by living proof of the fact that women are awe-inducing and admirable and excellent all on their own, with no men required. 

But in the midst of all this excellence, my friends and I are still products of the world. We still spend many a weekend searching up “sexy teen movie” on Netflix. We still swoon over all the money Chuck Bass lavishes on Blair. We break down and admit we just want some cuddles, or some attention, or a single, solitary kiss. We get sad over our current realities. Jesus Christ, no one has kissed us in six months. 

This was the case a year ago, and COVID hasn’t made it better. My friends and I all live together in a cluster of three dorm rooms. Our COVID pod is airtight and unchanging. We love each other fiercely, and without that love, we would have all gone mad months ago. But, the love you live with every day can quickly fade into the background, and frankly, despite our best attempts to unlearn it, we all have the idea ingrained in our heads that romantic love far outways even the most ardent platonic love. 

Because of the pandemic, we can really only spend solid time with each other. And deep, deep down, in our most secret thoughts, we grew upset that we were sharing that love with eight other girls, instead of getting the glorious male monogamous attention we’ve been trained to crave.

In full honesty, I’m maybe not the best girl to write this article. I do currently have that aforementioned male monogamy, and I reap all the neurotic benefits that a relationship affords me. I get to feel special and pretty and chosen by a man. I feel the full force of one person’s attention and care and work. In full, brutal honesty, the pandemic has been a time of realizing how many societal ills we have all been barely operating under our whole lives. When we couldn’t go to parties and garner the eyes of random boys, when we couldn’t drink wine with a different girl gang every weekend, when we couldn’t bribe our way into secret parties to feel the thrill of elitism and exclusion, we realized how many sick things inside of us we’d been barely keeping in check. 

In that way, perhaps my relationship actually makes me the best person to write this article. If anything, I’ve been running a year and a half long experiment on exactly what parts of a romantic relationship are so soothing to the heart. Beyond the physical aspects of a romantic relationship (which can’t be discounted! God knows we’re socialized to need men to find us physically desirable), there isn’t much a romantic relationship offers the tender parts of your heart that can’t be found in platonic relationships. 

Which brings us, at long last, to secret cupid. My friends and I, if nothing else, believe the world is ours to scheme. Boys, happiness, housing situations; all are ripe for group plotting and eventual victory. Case in point, it was the end of January and the worst kind of Durham, NC freezing. My friends and I were all getting very sick. Not the sick that came from horrible weather, or even the sick that had killed half a million Americans. I mean the sick that comes from the very worst things we have been taught. The sick that secretly whispers that you’re dying when no boy has looked at you in two months, or that makes you look at every girl you meet and wonder whether or not they’re prettier than you. The ridiculous, illogical, all-consuming thoughts that follow you about food, or boys, or sororities. At the end of January, we were eight girls who were clearly entering a month of illness, and I am included in that number regardless of my supposed cure-all boyfriend. I had very little idea of how I needed to be loved. At that point, none of us did. 

Then, cue us huddled in a living room, halfheartedly manifesting that February was going to be the month for us. I forget who originally proposed the idea of a fun little secret Santa in the middle of February to cheer up our inevitable Valentine’s Day blues, but I do remember thinking that one random, $15 or under gift wouldn’t achieve much. We didn’t need a single candle on Galentine’s Day. We needed romance. We needed to feel like someone was thinking of us and only us. We needed to feel like someone knew us as well as our dreamscape Prince Charming would. 

But most of all, we needed to be honest with ourselves. I was tired of our bitterness and our sad weekend nights, all caused by the fact that we needed things that we weren’t getting and didn’t have the guts (or the words) to ask for. 

‘Secret Cupid’ as we came to call it wouldn’t be a single tacky mug gifted over bad wine. Secret Cupid would be a month-long, top-secret, all-out romantic onslaught. It wouldn’t be about a fifteen-dollar limit. It would be about stupid love poems emailed from a secret address. It would be about spending an hour picking out the exact right candy to make your target feel seen. It would be about reminding all of us that, yes, we were special, and yes, people noticed our interests and yes, we deserved to be cherished for a whole month.

And so, we put our names into an online random assignment generator and began spending hours online shopping. When it was finally February, the games began. 

We all started out small. The first day, almost everyone received something edible, and immediately proved to every mediocre straight boy ever that it really is not hard to keep a girl happy. We were giddy the first day, and it was clearly not about the candy. It was the fact that the candy proved that somebody loved us enough to pay attention to our chocolate preferences. It all tasted like true love. And as soon as day 1 was over, we all agreed that giving was just as glorious as receiving. Platonic love is given such little societal space; for me, it was the deepest kind of comfort to get to tell Liz how much I truly, actually love her without fearing being creepy or overwrought. The act of giving, of loving so openly and specifically, was luxurious. The gifts themselves got more luxurious. A ring in the shape of the recipient's dream tattoo. A bra and panty set matched to the receiver’s favorite dress. An absolutely perfect anklet that said fuck off in morse code. Gifts were sexy, were sweet, and were always, most importantly, unerringly specific. Nothing was a candle. Everything was a gift that made you feel like someone was spending time every day just to love you.

It wasn’t at all about money. It was entirely about the glow of effort. It was like the honeymoon stage of a romantic relationship, where both parties are still trying. Conservatively, I would estimate that 50% of the people who feel badly about their relationships feel so because nobody is trying anymore. Here is where I am writing to the three straight men who will read this, and also to the girls of all sexualities who have a pillow princess mentality towards love; it is both essential and easy to make your partner feel the warmth of your time and attention. Some of the best gifts were the least expensive. Fifty balloons blown up and placed in a bedroom. Pancakes shaped to spell out P R O M and left on a desk. A pack of 100 Bad Bunny stickers that Ri still won’t shut up about. My friends showed me how easy it is to love each other. It is nothing but time and attention.

And at the end of the month, that’s where Secret Cupid ultimately led me. It both clarified and raised my expectations for all my relationships, because it was shown to me again and again that it is not hard for people to love me. None of us found it difficult or annoying to be exorbitant with our affection, and it made all of us feel better to give and receive that kind of love. And now, I am tired of lying to myself about how badly I need certain things. I need affection! We all do! It’s why we’ve been so pissy lately, so lonely, so willing to jump into quick romances. Women, in general, need to be better about being honest about what they need from the people they love. 

Obviously, I don’t think it’s fair for me to demand gifts for a month from my friends. But I do think we’d be a lot happier if we learned how to ask for focused attention, or specific time together, or a day where we can feel a bit special or cherished. Tell your boyfriend he needs to treat you better! Treat your friends better! All of us have been actively suffering for a calendar year now, and all of us need to understand our emotional needs to the best of our abilities. You’re a princess, and so is your romantic partner, and so are your friends. Every princess deserves nice things, just because.

By Anna Muthalaly

Current female health advocate, over-analyzer, and Duke Student