Hearts of the Herd: Sun, Situationships, and Spring Break Survival

From awkward reunions with long-distance partners to the fear of missing out, spring break can sometimes bring more relationship dilemmas than relaxation. Luckily, Daisy Valentine is back to offer a little guidance for Mammoths heading into a week of sun, travel, and questionable decisions.

With Spring Break on the horizon, Daisy Valentine is back to offer guidance about string bikinis, situationships, and everything in between. Graphic Courtesy of Lucy Jones '27.

Q: Dear Daisy, I’ve been casually seeing this girl all semester, but neither of us has said what this actually is. Now we’re both leaving for break in different places, and I have this strange feeling we’re about to just … never talk again. What do I do?

— Pondering Pigeon ’27

A: Hi Pigeon! Ah, the seasonal situationship. Like geese returning to a pond or everyone suddenly remembering they love running outside again, these relationships tend to appear in the colder months and quietly disperse come spring break.

From where I’m standing, you have two basic paths. Option one is the classic college maneuver: the mutually understood ‘let-it-fade.’ No dramatic ending, no awkward conversation, just a gradual reduction in texting until both parties politely pretend the whole thing was a charming winter interlude.

Option two is the slightly braver route: say something before break. Not necessarily a grand declaration — just a simple “hey, I’ve really liked spending time together this semester. What are you thinking about us when we get back?” The risk, of course, is that you might receive an answer. But the upside is that you’ll return from break without needing to decode a week-long silence like it’s an ancient manuscript.

If your instinct is that the connection meant something, it’s usually worth at least acknowledging it. Situationships thrive on ambiguity, but clarity — while slightly terrifying — tends to make life much easier.

And if the answer ends up being that it was a lovely winter chapter? That’s still a pretty good genre of story.

Q: Dear Daisy, my girlfriend has been shopping for her spring break trip for the past few weeks. She recently gave me a haul of what she’s bought, and I noticed that many of her swimsuits and clothes are pretty revealing. I don’t want to restrict what she wears, but it makes me a little bit uncomfortable. Is there a reason she needs to show so much skin?

— Conservative Crocodile ’27

A: Hi Crocodile, normally I am pretty quick to diagnose a problem, but, in all honesty, I’m struggling to see what the correlation is between your girlfriend’s clothing choices and your conscience. Spring break wardrobes tend to involve a little less fabric—sunshine and warm weather have that effect—but none of that has anything to do with you or your relationship.

It might be worth asking yourself where the discomfort is actually coming from. Are you worried about how other people will perceive her? About how they might perceive you? Or about whether you trust the relationship while you’re apart? Those are fair feelings to examine, but they’re internal ones — not problems that can be solved by someone else wearing a different swimsuit.

If you care about your girlfriend, the healthiest move is probably to support her feeling confident and excited about her trip. After all, confidence in a relationship usually looks less like policing outfits and more like trusting the person wearing them.

And who knows — perhaps when she comes back with a tan and some good stories, you’ll be glad she packed the fun outfits after all.

Q: Dear Daisy, my situationship and I both happen to be going to Miami for spring break with separate friend groups. We’re not officially dating, but we are officially confusing each other. What do I do if I run into them?

— Perplexed Pufferfish ’26

A: Hi Pufferfish! This is a case of the classic spring break paradox: the situationship that exists everywhere and nowhere at once. First things first, remember that running into each other in Miami is both incredibly unlikely and somehow almost guaranteed.

If you do see them, the best strategy is to be confident and casual. A quick hello, a smile, maybe a brief chat about how break is going — think friendly, not fraught. Spring break is not the ideal stage for a deep relationship summit, especially when both of you are surrounded by friends and possibly questionable decisions.

If the vibe feels natural, great — enjoy the moment and keep it light. But if the interaction feels awkward or unclear, take it as a sign that this might be a conversation better saved for when you’re back on campus and no longer sunburned and sleep-deprived.

And remember: sometimes distance (even the Florida kind) is the fastest way to gain clarity.

Q: Dear Daisy, everyone I know seems to be going somewhere glamorous for spring break. Meanwhile, I’m going home to my parents’ house for the week. How do I not feel like I’m missing out?

— Grounded Goldfish ’28

A: Hey Goldfish! Spring break has a funny way of turning everyone’s life into a travel brochure. Suddenly, your feed is full of beaches, sunsets, and coordinated group photos; it can start to feel like the entire student body has collectively boarded a flight to somewhere sunny.

It’s completely fair to feel a little envious when everyone seems to be adventuring, but also remember that the Instagram effect is real: you’re seeing the most photogenic moments of someone else’s week, not the full story. 

Going home has its own underrated perks! You get a real bed, food that didn’t come from a dining hall, and the rare luxury of not having to coordinate eight people’s schedules just to decide what time to eat lunch.

If you’re still craving a little adventure, treat the week like a reset rather than a consolation prize. See old friends, explore somewhere nearby, or simply enjoy the novelty of quiet. College moves fast, and a week where nothing dramatic happens can feel like a small miracle.

And remember: the people posting the most glamorous spring break photos will be equally as excited to hear what you did when everyone gets back.

Q: Dear Daisy, I’m going home for spring break, and my parents keep asking if I’m “seeing anyone.” I am … technically … but explaining it would require a flow chart. Help.

— Conflicted Coyote ’26

A: Hi Coyote, situationships and parents are two worlds that rarely translate well. Your parents are likely imagining one of two categories: “dating” or “not dating.” Meanwhile, you’re operating somewhere around category seven.

You have a few options here. The first is strategic vagueness: “I’ve been hanging out with someone a bit, but nothing serious.” This is usually enough information to satisfy parental curiosity without launching into a full relationship seminar.

If they press further, remember that you are under no obligation to narrate every emotional subplot of your college life. A gentle redirect — asking about their week, the dog, or what’s for dinner — works surprisingly well.

And if the situationship does become something clearer later on, you can always introduce them then. By that point, ideally, the flow chart will be shorter.

Q: Dear Daisy, I’m going to see my long-distance boyfriend over spring break for the first time in months, and I’m weirdly nervous about it. What if it’s awkward? What if we’ve changed? Am I overthinking this?

— Anxious Alpaca ’27

A: Hi Alpaca! First of all, take a deep breath. What you’re describing is one of the most universal long-distance experiences. When you’ve spent weeks or months interacting through texts and FaceTimes, finally seeing each other again can feel oddly high-stakes — like the reunion has to prove that the relationship still “works.”

The good news is that the awkwardness you’re imagining is usually short-lived. Most couples report a brief adjustment period — the first hug feels a little surreal, the first conversation slightly stilted — and then, within an hour or so, things settle right back into place. Humans are remarkably quick at remembering how they fit together.

It’s also okay if you have both changed a little. That’s not a sign that something is wrong; it’s simply what happens when two people live separate lives for a while. Think of the visit less as a test and more as a chance to rediscover each other in person.

My only practical advice: keep the first day low-pressure. A walk, a casual meal, something that allows conversation without the expectation that every moment must be magical. The best reunions tend to feel less like a movie scene and more like slipping back into a familiar rhythm.

And if you do feel nervous on the way there, remember that he’s probably feeling the exact same thing. Enjoy the visit — and try not to spend it evaluating every moment …