U+Me=Us

There was only one reason, as far as I was concerned, to take a Math 103 class at 6:30 every Tuesday and Thursday night when I was a freshman, and that reason was the total dreamboat who would routinely sit at the desk to my right during every class.

He would always show up for class five minutes late, his hair slightly messy from the track team practice. He would slip into the classroom through the back door, unnoticed by everyone including the absent-minded professor. He never carried a bookbag, simply a notebook and a pencil in his hand. He didn't believe in bringing a textbook to class. If he needed to look at a problem we were working on, he could simply borrow the book from me.

I had a total of one, and only one, conversation with him. That fateful night, we were both early for our class and the room was locked, so we were forced to wait it out in the hallway. He introduced himself to me and asked why I was taking math 103 instead of 104. Because I didn't do so well on the placement test, I said to him, slightly embarrassed. That's ok, neither did I, he replied casually. It was love. We were meant to be.

However, our unspoken love affair never went any farther. It was getting close to the end of the semester and I was a bit frustrated with the lack of progression in our relationship. I had to take matters into my own hands.

I searched for his name on Facebook and, luckily, there were only two people in the entire school with the same first and last name as him. One was a grad student majoring in African Studies. Another one was the man of my dreams himself. Well, he didn't have a picture up but I had to assume it was him since his graduation year and major corresponded to what he told me.

So my 18-year old self wrote a rather clumsy email which, and I kid you not, went something like this, "Hey, I think you're totally hot." Gosh, I was such a smooth talker. I made sure that I created an anonymous email address so that he wouldn't know who his secret admirer was at first. I was afraid of rejection.

I was a bit disappointed when I didn't hear from him in a couple of days. How could he resist my blatant praise of his gorgeousness. But I wasn't about to give up that easily. I emailed him again three days later with this little gem. "Hey, I know you haven't replied to my previous email, but I still think you're hot." He replied back two hours later with a rather rude "Who is this? Is this a joke?" I had no choice but to coyly reveal my identity. "We take pre-calc together and we talked a few times.I find you very attractive," I wrote, abandoning all sense of dignity. What he wrote back, however, really hit me hard. "I'm really flattered, but I'm not in any pre-calc classes this semester. You must be mistaking me for someone else."

The next day was our MATH103 final exam. I showed up early and handed in my exam early. On my way out of the classroom, I glanced at the man of my dreams one last time. He was looking back with a faint knowing smile. He was silently letting me know that he, in fact, was the guy who received my love emails. He was letting me know that he was rejecting me, despite our undeniable math class connection. Ouch.

Two weeks later, my spring semester started and I had a new man of my dreams. We took a writing class together, and he was so deep and profound and from Los Angeles. It was love all over again.