A sunny day at the Boat Race, and the air is thick with shouts of “God damn bloody Oxford” — Cambridge’s rather lame equivalent of “shoe the tabs”. I’m with my girlfriend’s friends from ‘The Other Place’, and Oxford’s dismal performance on the Thames has caused much mirth, most of it at my expense.
A long-distance relationship, which started after UCAS but before uni, set me and my girlfriend on firmly different sides of the Oxbridge divide. Should a similar thing ever happen to you (or you’re just curious), consider this your survival guide to making the most of the situation, with all its perks and pitfalls.
Firstly, prepare for the fact that despite being very similar, the two universities and their respective towns don’t like having much to do with one another. No direct train or bus (except four hours long and via Bedford) means a whistle-stop tour of London’s major termini and an unhealthy dose of the Hammersmith and City line. Add to this the journey being inexplicably 15 quid cheaper in one direction, coupled with the mighty institution that is the rail replacement bus, and you have a perfect transport storm.
It’s all worth it once you’ve completed the odyssey, of course. Having a partner at Cambridge means double the pretty quads, double the formal dinner opportunities, and double the self-righteousness. Given we’re both worked into the ground by our tutors (sorry, supervisors), it’s easy to be on the same page about work-life balance. ‘Library dates’ become a fixture as their libraries are far more lax about entry than ours — admittedly because they’re quite ugly. I’ve also managed to ask a question in a Cambridge anthropology lecture despite having no knowledge of the discipline, nor actually the right to be in the building. An Oxbridge relationship offers extra academic motivation, as they give Cantab freshers something that resembles our scholar’s gowns without even needing a first.
Socially, it’s probably a dead heat as to which city has the worst clubbing scene, and whether ‘entz’ beats ‘ents’ (the tabs’ less snappy abbreviation). Exploring both cities at least gives you a wider sample to choose from, although Oxford post-club food is far superior to Cambridge’s. Where Cambridge does win is with the ‘backs’, as the river flows through more of the colleges than at Oxford. They do their best to ruin this though by somehow being even snottier about guests than the Christ Church porters.
A big advantage as an Oxbridge couple is that the term dates generally coincide, barring the fact that Cambridge terms bizarrely start on a Tuesday. This is helpful for planning ahead, especially if you’re also long-distance outside of term like we are. Given the trials of the work and social calendar at both universities, planning and clear communication become a cornerstone. As does an overfamiliarity with Jack’s (an ice cream parlour every Cam student is obsessed with), alternating Valentine’s and anniversary formals, and constant teasing that every street in Cambridge looks like Cornmarket.
The points of comparison are endless, and my life is so much richer for dating across the divide. You can, of course, even see her version of this article featured in Cherwell’s rival, the Cambridge paper Varsity. My only qualm is that everyone thinks we’re hopelessly privileged as an ‘Oxbridge couple’, that this was always going to happen, when in fact we’ve somehow fallen into this strange, lovely world that I have to sometimes blink several times to check is real. I can’t claim that we’ve eliminated the Oxbridge rivalry, because quite the opposite is true: the differences have been absorbed into our relationship. If that sounds like fun, do date across the divide — I’d highly recommend.
