It’s that time of year again: Marriage Pact results are out. Thousands of students have received the most impactful test results of their lives since the SATs or when the Oracles at Buzzfeed told them which Hogwarts house they were in based on their favorite Taylor Swift songs. While many students found charming matches that would lead to eight text messages and maybe a visit to Norbucks, your marriage pact is in McCormick. Now what?

After receiving the name of your apparent soulmate, you scour the internet for any clues as to who they might be. What you find shocks you. No Instagram. No Snapchat. No Letterboxd. You finally discover that you have a mutual friend; according to her, they’re kind, goofy, and an Industrial Engineering major.

You suddenly feel faint and lean on your anti-suicide dorm chair for support, about to make your worst mistake yet: Googling industrial engineering. Turns out it’s a revolting combination of engineering and — even worse — business. Your grief overcomes you and you fall to your knees. It’s so Joever. Your first child will be named “Musk” after both the real-life supervillain Elon and the very first thing you noticed about your match.

You receive a surprise email on the first night of Halloweekend. “Sup. Wanna go to Elder Monday for lunch? They got pizza.” Your face goes so white that everyone at The Tub thinks you’re dressed as biblically accurate Prince Phillip. This will be the most important first impression of your life, so you spend the rest of your weekend preparing.

You are so ready. Armed with the names of all 1021 Pokémon and a deeper understanding of League of Legends than any human would ever need — should ever need — you head up to Elder. This is your moment. You’re going to let it shine like Tori Vega. You nervously scan the room when your eyes meet theirs, amplified by four centimeters of glass. You suddenly forget your own name as they proceed to, without being asked, explain the logistics of Saferide and lament over their roommate’s lack of taste in regard to the Warrior Cats novels. It is somehow the best date of your life. You return to South Campus excited for what’s to come: a life of companionship, family, and message boards about niche topics.

And just like that, it’s over. They’ve seemingly vanished from the face of the planet. You stalk Elder every day from 11 to 3 with no luck. You try to move on, but you just can’t. Who else knows Yuh-Gi-Oh like they did? You eventually graduate. Find a career. Start a family. But they will always be the one that got away. You decide to eventually be cremated with nothing but the printout of that first email that you’ve kept in your wallet since Winter quarter. You’ve lived a beautiful life but, in your dying moments, you still can’t help but wonder: “What the fuck even is an industrial engineer?”