Everyone says the Columbia dating scene is dead, but those people clearly haven’t logged into the most exclusive app on campus: Butler Library. Forget Tinder, Hinge, and Bumble, Butler is the only platform where you can flirt, cry, and cite JSTOR all in one night.
Each floor has its own aesthetic. The 2nd floor is basically Tinder: bright lights, constant noise, and the occasional overheated econ bro yelling into a Zoom call. “I literally met my boyfriend when he asked if I was using the outlet,” a sophomore commented, “I wasn’t, but now I guess I am, for life.”
Move up to the 3rd and 4th floors, and suddenly you’re on Hinge. Everyone looks approachable and sophisticated, like they actually know how to use Chicago style citations. “Tall, dark, handsome, and made three hours of intense eye contact over ‘The Odyssey’,” confessed Thir Stee, CC ’26. “He never spoke to me, but honestly? That’s the closest thing to intimacy I’ve felt since before midterms.”
Columbia’s version of Raya lies on the legendary 6th floor. It’s silent, chic, and everyone looks like they already have a book deal.
But, of course, lurking beneath it all are the stacks, Columbia’s equivalent of Grindr: dimly lit, unsettling, and home to questionable decisions. “I opened the wrong carrel,” admitted one student, “and I’ll just say… they weren’t studying Lit Hum.”
Like any app, Butler comes with swiping rules. A slammed laptop equals a swipe left. Coyly sliding your AirPod case across the table equals a swipe right. Accidentally stealing someone’s outlet? That’s an instant unmatch. And ghosting? Forget unanswered texts, at Butler, ghosting is literal. One moment they’re there sexily annotating The Republic, and the next they’ve “gone for coffee” and are never seen again.
So, the next time someone complains that Columbia’s dating pool is drier than JJ’s chicken tenders, remind them: Romance isn’t dead. It’s just happening under fluorescent lights and next to a Blue Java Cafe muffin that tastes like cardboard.
