When I realized that extended library hours begin this week, I couldn't help but wonder why people would subject themselves to 20 hours of the UF library experience.
I spend little time in Library West, mainly because every time I try to study in the designated "quiet areas," I find the library more distracting than sitting on my couch with new episodes of "The Office" playing on the TV. As far as I'm concerned, the only thing extended library hours accomplish is giving Starbucks more opportunities to charge $5 for burnt cardboard milk.
Extended library hours worsen the main reason I can't stand the on-campus libraries: the Study Couple.
Study Couple, I'm calling you out. You people are public enemy No. 1 during finals week.
Don't bother accusing me of being single and bitter. I self-identify as both.
My main motivation, however, isn't my hatred of your relationship happiness. I'm speaking out because wherever I go in the library, I'm surrounded by constant lovebird sounds, including whispers, giggles and computer-booth saliva-swapping.
Extended library hours seem to encourage these people to take their dating lives to the study tables. I'm sure your roommates are tired of you dominating your apartment's kitchen table with the same behavior, but must you inflict your dedication to each other's academic progress on the entire Student Body?
No one wants to hear you helping tu amor with his Spanish vocabulary flashcards.
Then again, the Study Couple separated by cruel fate is almost worse than a twosome united in the library. That "turn off your cell phones" sign at the library entrance isn't a suggestion. I don't want to hear your half-hour long string of apologies about how sorry you are that you have to miss her black-and-white party to write your lab report. And your Jason Mraz ringtone shouting down my iPod makes me want to throw my overpriced coffee in your face.
Believe it or not, some of us care about passing our finals. Some of us go to the library in hopes of avoiding distractions at home. Instead, at Library West, we end up stuck inside a Hallmark Channel movie.
It's not only my finals I'm worried about, dear Study Couples. I have only your best interests in mind here, too. How will you get into law school, become successful and pay for that diamond ring when you get less-than-stellar grades?
A helpful hint: If you're trying to get studying done, don't take your significant other along. I realize it's difficult to tear yourself away from Pookie Bear while you attempt to memorize when Christopher Columbus sailed the ocean blue, but I'm guessing the stage whispers and make-out sessions aren't inspired by a passage in your history textbook.
(Giggle)
"Stop it."
"No, you stop it!"
No, Study Couple - you stop it. Not only are you making me hate my life, but the overwhelming nausea I feel impedes my ability to learn. I can't concentrate on calculus when I'm subjected to every detail of your holiday ski-trip plans.
To be fair, we've all seen the movies in which the cute, co-ed couple hooks up among the library stacks. It's so common in college-romance films that you begin to think it's a required part of the college experience.
Great. If you want to re-enact that scene, take the escalator, find the rack with the love sonnets and take care of business. Even better, take "get a room" literally and check out a study room. Those doors lock.
Hilary Lehman is a journalism senior. She is the managing editor for print of the Alligator.
