If you’re one of the many who has to hit up Butler instead of Senior Night, you should know that you’re not alone. In fact, you never are; wandering the halls of floor 6, chilling in The Stacks, standing in front of you in line for coffee—the many Butler Archetypes we’ve come to know and love question will always be by your side as you struggle to copy a problem set from Cramster. Join Alex Jones as he examines the true motives of those people who make you feel as paranoid as The Guy Who Smells Like Weed.

Facebook profile photo of Louise McCune posing with her best friends in the whole world.

It’s just another day in Butler—or so you think.

It’s not until you’re opening Courseworks to check on an assignment that you notice a pair of eyes, several tables away, fixed in your direction. They belong to a random guy in a “Geology Rocks” shirt; typical. As soon as you make eye contact, he looks away, as if he’d just been looking around the whole time. Awkward glances—Hey, they happen!—says his casual shoulder shrug, and you resume typing in your UNI.

Some time has passed; by now you’re nearing your 16th Facebook profile refresh. You look up from the screen, eyes strained from squinting at far too many cat pictures and Cracked lists, to find a nondescript female staring blankly at you, from nearby to that first guy. Your eyes lock for several seconds. Weird—could they be cohorts? Awkwardly, you blink once, and are about to crack a friendly smile, but she abruptly shifts her gaze back down toward her work. Must be a coincidence. But you’ve seen weirder (read: 90 Cute Photos of Tiny Kittens in Denim Jackets).

You remember that Reddit exists, and another 20 minutes quickly pass by. Again, you feel the probing gaze of inquisitive eyes. You glance up, and sure enough, the first guy is watching. Nevertheless, you decide to actually begin working. Your essay will be a welcome distraction from the growing awkwardness.

Halfway through the second sentence, you can’t remember if you can use “which” when it isn’t preceded by a comma. While trying to remember, you look aimlessly around the room and accidentally, for a moment, cast your gaze toward the staring guy. He’s looking up at the ceiling. Eh, maybe he’s not so bad.

But then he looks down, and sees you looking at him. Fuck. What if he thinks you reciprocated. But reciprocated what? Maybe this is a game to him.

Whatever. This guy is a creep and you don’t have the time to… Jesus Christ… Now she’s doing it again. You look down at your keyboard. Alright, you’re gonna look up quickly as a test, of … well you don’t know of what, but it’s a test. Now there’s a third girl in on it! She’s not even at their table. You throw on your Skymall noise canceling headphones and try to look busy. At this point, you assume you’re being watched, constantly. The pings of scrutiny assault your concentration. Every thought is interrupted by winces of received judgement. What do they want? What are they thinking? Will it ever end?

A single bead of sweat forms on your brow. As you feel the heat of their collective gaze, you realize it’s only the first of many.