Last night was the first day of class for the spring
semester. I pondered why the winter break went by so incredibly fast as I
tossed my concrete filled backpack onto a table in the back row of my first
class. This semester, all but one of my textbooks are hard covers.
It took me exactly twelve seconds to look over and fall in
love with a guy in my history class. He is just adorable; slim frame, messy hair.
The way he slouched in his chair and played with his iPhone during the syllabus
review…dreamy. During
attendance, I discovered my betrothed name was Mark Jacobson. I immediately
started to doodle on the cover of my The America Promise (the irony didn't pass me) textbook. Mrs. Steven Jacobson. Mark and Steve
forever. Steve loves Mark. Around
this time of fighting the urge to write a note asking if he liked me, check YES
or NO, I had the thought that you don’t hear a lot of kids these days named
Mark. Oh, my crush is like eighteen?
I tore the cover from my book and broke up with Mark in a crushing
scene. In my head. I am such a dirty
old man.
Be warned: I am taking a philosophy class and also studying
the biographies of Martin Luther King and Malcolm X this semester. Ahead for us
lies/lays (God, I should of taken another English class) geeky blog posts in
regard to Plato, Dr. King, and how Mark Jacobson doesn’t love me.
You should see my notebook cover.
ReplyDeleteYou don't know he doesn't love you. An analysis of his handwriting - maybe the way he loops his 'e's will tell you that he's really shy at parties.
ReplyDeleteWe all eventually become dirty old men. Welcome to the club.
ReplyDeleteI'm sorry about your break up. You'll find someone new. There are plenty of fish in the sea. It just wasn't meant to be!
ReplyDeleteDid you at least make him cry?
In you head.
You mean they don't offer your text books on an iPad yet? Isn't this the 21st century?
ReplyDelete