But to them, it seemed, love was a theoretical topic, something selected from a course catalogue and discussed in the abstract, like string theory or Proust. And you know what? True love, as they define it, with nothing to compare it to, probably does exist — simply because they believe it does. And so it seems almost criminal to accuse them of utopian naïveté. After all, college is a great place to philosophize, to take ideals for a test drive (if not human bodies, as Leo is anxious to point out). For now their minds, like their bodies, are untarnished.
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