Clarissa: Having committed the cardinal sins of Cambridge dating, I feel I waived my right to a nuanced opinion a long while ago. Flatcest? Done. Same subject? Ticked that one off the bucket list. Moving in together for Covid-19 lockdown after only a few months… also guilty. I almost went as far as the altar of college marriage, but luckily mustered some self-awareness in the nick of time. While I don’t have a shockingly new hot take to offer, I am here to reassure you that your judgement can only be better than mine! And that it’s possible to derive something practical from the cliches of failed relationships. Of course, student life is not just about romantic love, no matter what the Pizza Express Valentine’s menu tells you. We’re not recreating Take Me Out on a University scale. But if you do have a good gut feeling, why not throw caution to the wind and shoot your shot. Just make sure you get some solo matriculation photos in case things go south.

Lotte: Dating in Cambridge is not hot. It is lukewarm at best. My hot tip is to lock someone in from your hometown before uni starts. Now this may seem counterintuitive. Who actively wants to do long distance at uni? But if you put romance aside (and three years in, my boyfriend and I definitely have) it’s incredibly time-effective on the academic side. Is it sad? Yes. Do you miss them? Heartbreakingly so. However, you have ample time to do your essay when your partner is literally miles away. Equally, as each year passes, I am exposed to more and more of Cambridge dating life. I have seen the options – and they are less than desirable. Overworked and erratic narcissists who care more about topping tripos than topping you. Being repeatedly overshone by a Cambridge overachiever? No, thank you. I get enough academic chat in my seminars. Hometown hotties grounded in the real world are definitely the way to go. Not to mention their adult salary...

Fabian: Speaking as someone who didn’t have to date in Cambridge, I really don’t see what all the fuss is about. Dating is simply one of those things that’s going to be about the same everywhere – never anything particularly awful nor particularly exciting. Sure, people are different wherever you go. A guy from New York is not the same as a girl from Aberystwyth. And yes, people from Cambridge may have some universally-shared quirks. A penchant for name-dropping famous authors perhaps, a tendency to engage in frequent debates, or a constant need to dash off post-date to one of their six or seven full-time hobbies. But dating itself? It’s always going to be the same. “Go for coffee”, “have a nice meal”, “walk around somewhere”; there’s nothing about these things that’s radically different in this city. All the “horror stories” people tell seem to distract from the blissfully mundane reality of dating here. Most people you meet aren’t going to communicate exclusively via puppets or make you go watch their Corpus late show as a “date”. For better or worse, most people are just going to be fine.

Asha: “Dating” in Cambridge – during my limited time here – has proved to be grossly disappointing, and maybe it was destined to be this way. The idealistic, love-seeking fresher I was at the start of Michaelmas is dead now. Her visions of intercollege romance, set against the scenic backdrop of King’s and cute little Cambridge cafes, were but mere delusion. I was well overdue for a reality check either way, although this one was particularly brutal. Personally, I blame my unrealistic expectations on the string of fellows, alumni and professors who spouted grand tales about how they met their current spouses back in their heady Cambridge heydays. Meanwhile, I’ve barely found “situationship” material here, let alone marriage material. The only possible explanation is that the Cambridge dating pool has gotten worse generationally and if that’s the case, we’re all done for. So here’s my advice: manage your expectations and maybe look beyond university for something of substance (although there’s a small part of me still holding out hope).

Gwenno: Halfway through my degree in Cambridge, I am l yet to go on a date, and for good reason. You see, the Cambridge dating scene is “hot” – suffocatingly so. It’s the kind of “hot” you might experience in an unventilated box with a sack tossed over your head. Too many of my romantic endeavours have ended with the crushing realisation that the curse of the Cambridge-based phenomenon, “The Overlap”, has struck again. In its milder, gentler form, “The Overlap” can manifest itself as a coursemate or acquaintance you might have in common with your newfound lover. At its worst, it has been known to strike in the form of a best friend, or worst of all: a housemate. The curse of “The Overlap” is enough to halt any date plans in their tracks, before you’ve even had the time to say Franco Manca. Perhaps a product of my own drunken decisions, this unfortunate situation is not helped by the severe dearth of eligible straight men in Cambridge for me to pursue. On that note, think you recognise me from Hinge, the bowels of Clare Cellars or the Lola’s dancefloor? No. No, you don’t.