I teach. I teach adults. Some of my students are older than I am. Some of them are younger. Some of them are the same age. While I've been known to socialize with students, (as neither of the schools I've worked for have had policies against it, it's not that serious) I don't date them. That's just weird.
Earlier this week, I was checking my email before class, when a student who is not in any of my classes asked me if I had a good weekend. Since my weekend involved dressing up like a figure skater and telling strangers I was a gold medalist, I replied that it was. Then he asked if I went away with my boyfriend. "Nooo," I said slowly, thinking that was a strange question to ask. Then I remembered that it had been Valentine's Day. Just goes to show how easy that non-holiday is to ignore. "Why not?" he asked. Without thinking, I said, "Because I don't have a boyfriend."
As soon as I said it, I knew why he asked it. Especially since I kept catching him watching me for the past week. Sure enough, not two minutes later, he asked if he could see me outside of class. This is not the first time a student has asked me out, and I am a master of avoiding and wriggling out of awkward situations. I told him sure, sometime, but not this week, as I'm very busy and important, but, you know, sometime. Of course, this took longer than normal because he has only been in the country for a few weeks and speaks little to no English. My strategy (as it has always been) is that by continuing to say "sometime" they will either give up or forget about it. In the past, it has been very effective.
I immediately went to Fenella, since she has also been in this same situation before. While all of our colleagues were dating (or just sleeping with) students, she and I stayed out of that. I gave her the need-to-knows:
1. He's not my student, and never will be.
2. He speaks almost no English. And while I'm used to speaking to people who don't speak much English, conversation would be extremely difficult. (Although as Grayer pointed out, we both know the language of love.) Dinner conversation would consist of a lot of pointing and "Fork!" "Waiter!" Although, come to think of it, that may be better than some of the conversations I've had on dates...
3. He's an Italian Dreamboat.
4. He's a smoker.
Sadly, Number 4 cancels out everything else, as we would just have a repeat of Popcorn Man.
I managed to avoid the Italian Dreamboat all week, until Friday. After he had won a school-wide musical chairs competition, I gave him a high-five (which I had to do, as I had done the same for the runners-up). He kept a grip on my hand, and (I'm not kidding here) nuzzled it to his cheek. Only an Italian Dreamboat can pull this one off.
A bit later, I was gathering my stuff up in my classroom, when he walked in and handed me a piece of paper. For a brief, horrifying moment, I was afraid I would open it to find "Do you like me? Check yes or no." Fortunately/Unfortunately, it was his number. "For Saturday," he said. "uhhhhh, I have plans, I can't." Then, so he could understand more easily, "I'M. BUSY." This did not phase him. "Sunday then." "O-ok," I said, surprised at how sure he was of this. Oh, to be Italian. And a dreamboat. He laughed. "You don't like me," he shrugged. "I didn't say that. It's just... I'm busy." I have no idea why I felt the need to explain. I could have just told him I didn't want to go out with him, but his English is so bad that all he would hear is the word "No" and then it would just be mean. Now I've missed out on the opportunity to explain that I don't date students. Or smokers.
Is it some sort of Murphy's Law that you will only be pursued by people you don't want to be pursued by? Murphy's Dating Law?
Showing posts with label smokers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label smokers. Show all posts
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Saturday, January 9, 2010
To Snog a Smoker?
After his texting frenzy, Popcorn Man actually picked up the phone and called me on Thursday evening. (This was, of course, after he texted me that afternoon.) He asked me what I was up to this weekend. I said I was busy on Saturday and Sunday. He said that "maybe" he would give me a call to see what I was up to on Friday. All the while, I'm thinking. It's Thursday. Why don't we just make a plan for Friday?
Friday rolls around. Due to extreme cold and ice, it's an official snow day! I spend the day hibernating with a book and a crochet hook. By the time evening rolled around, I hadn't left the house all day, and I was ok with that. At 8:00, I got a text (of course) from Popcorn Man. He wanted to know what I was up to. I told him I was hibernating. He responded with, "Damn, I was hoping we could hang out." I was torn. Part of me wanted to stay in my chair, wrapped up in my blanket, reading my book. Another part of me wanted to actually be social. I told him that depended on what he meant by hanging out. He suggested I could go to his house and hang out. Or he could come over to my place.
This is when texting is preferable to an actual conversation. I have time to consult my roommate and figure out what it is I actually want to do. My roommate advised that I should see him. So I told him to come on over, and if we wanted to go out somewhere, we're in a two-block radius of a wide variety of bars.
I looked down at my clothes and decided I had better change. Even if we stayed in, my leggings and leg warmers, complete with llama motif, were probably not going to cut it. At that time, it was 9:30. By 10:30, my roommate and I were watching 27 Dresses, and I was kind of hoping he would stand me up. At 10:45, he called and said he would be here in half an hour. I decided I needed some hot chocolate as a pick-me-up. He finally arrived just before 11:30.
I offered him a beer, which he accepted, and we took up residence on the couch. We chatted for awhile, flipped through the Would You Rather...? book my roommate and I keep on our coffee table just for situations such as this. Then he had to go outside on our porch in the 12 degree weather to smoke. He came back in reeking like a chimney. Consider myself officially checked out.
I think it was around the 12:45 mark that he started to annoy me. I'm not sure what it was exactly, but I think it was his tendency to ramble. And never stop. When he found out that I don't like Ikea (seriously, I hate Ikea) he went on and on and on AND ON about how I shouldn't hate Ikea and about how he himself will take me to Ikea someday so that I will no longer hate Ikea. Then I got a dissertation on his gout. Gout! It's an old-person's disease! There was nothing-and I mean nothing- that I could contribute to that conversation. I mean, aside from a sympathetic "yeah" and a nod of the head every now and then.
It was also about this time that his hand took up permanent residence on my knee. I didn't like it. And that is a clear sign that this is Not Going to Happen. He tried to talk me into going out, but at that point, it was after 1:30.
Dear Popcorn Man,
This is where you screwed up: You didn't make a date. Had I known ahead of time that we had a scheduled time to go out, I would have been more up for it. I wouldn't have gotten so comfortable in my blanket and slippers. Then, if you did want to go out, you should have suggested it within 30 minutes of your arrival at my place. By the time you did, my hot chocolate had worn off and I was back to the blanket to keep warm. Oh, and quit smoking. You stink.
I finally managed to get rid of him at 2:00. There was no kiss goodnight. I had made up my mind over an hour ago, that even if I do want more action this year, I wasn't going to want it from him. Not without an awful lot of liquor, anyway. Snog a smoker? I think I'll pass. Unfortunately, he texted me at 2:09 to say. "Sweet dreams. :) I had fun."
Bah! What do I do now?
Popcorn Man: Fail.
Friday rolls around. Due to extreme cold and ice, it's an official snow day! I spend the day hibernating with a book and a crochet hook. By the time evening rolled around, I hadn't left the house all day, and I was ok with that. At 8:00, I got a text (of course) from Popcorn Man. He wanted to know what I was up to. I told him I was hibernating. He responded with, "Damn, I was hoping we could hang out." I was torn. Part of me wanted to stay in my chair, wrapped up in my blanket, reading my book. Another part of me wanted to actually be social. I told him that depended on what he meant by hanging out. He suggested I could go to his house and hang out. Or he could come over to my place.
This is when texting is preferable to an actual conversation. I have time to consult my roommate and figure out what it is I actually want to do. My roommate advised that I should see him. So I told him to come on over, and if we wanted to go out somewhere, we're in a two-block radius of a wide variety of bars.
I looked down at my clothes and decided I had better change. Even if we stayed in, my leggings and leg warmers, complete with llama motif, were probably not going to cut it. At that time, it was 9:30. By 10:30, my roommate and I were watching 27 Dresses, and I was kind of hoping he would stand me up. At 10:45, he called and said he would be here in half an hour. I decided I needed some hot chocolate as a pick-me-up. He finally arrived just before 11:30.
I offered him a beer, which he accepted, and we took up residence on the couch. We chatted for awhile, flipped through the Would You Rather...? book my roommate and I keep on our coffee table just for situations such as this. Then he had to go outside on our porch in the 12 degree weather to smoke. He came back in reeking like a chimney. Consider myself officially checked out.
I think it was around the 12:45 mark that he started to annoy me. I'm not sure what it was exactly, but I think it was his tendency to ramble. And never stop. When he found out that I don't like Ikea (seriously, I hate Ikea) he went on and on and on AND ON about how I shouldn't hate Ikea and about how he himself will take me to Ikea someday so that I will no longer hate Ikea. Then I got a dissertation on his gout. Gout! It's an old-person's disease! There was nothing-and I mean nothing- that I could contribute to that conversation. I mean, aside from a sympathetic "yeah" and a nod of the head every now and then.
It was also about this time that his hand took up permanent residence on my knee. I didn't like it. And that is a clear sign that this is Not Going to Happen. He tried to talk me into going out, but at that point, it was after 1:30.
Dear Popcorn Man,
This is where you screwed up: You didn't make a date. Had I known ahead of time that we had a scheduled time to go out, I would have been more up for it. I wouldn't have gotten so comfortable in my blanket and slippers. Then, if you did want to go out, you should have suggested it within 30 minutes of your arrival at my place. By the time you did, my hot chocolate had worn off and I was back to the blanket to keep warm. Oh, and quit smoking. You stink.
I finally managed to get rid of him at 2:00. There was no kiss goodnight. I had made up my mind over an hour ago, that even if I do want more action this year, I wasn't going to want it from him. Not without an awful lot of liquor, anyway. Snog a smoker? I think I'll pass. Unfortunately, he texted me at 2:09 to say. "Sweet dreams. :) I had fun."
Bah! What do I do now?
Popcorn Man: Fail.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
An Excellent Start
New Year's Eve. My least favorite holiday of the year. You might assume my least favorite holiday would be Valen- er, Single's Awareness Day, but that's not true. It's easy to ignore S.A.D. Especially if it's during the week, you just continue with your normal routine. With New Year's Eve, there is way too much pressure to not stay at home watching chick flicks. (At least alone. But finding someone else to commit to watching chick flicks with you, is not easy.)
This year, I thought it would be easiest to go out in my neighborhood, within walking distance of my place. There are no shortage of bars in a three-block radius, and we wouldn't have to worry about a designated driver or paying for a taxi. Anyone who wanted to was welcome to crash on my floor. But sure enough, my friends had ideas of their own that didn't involve my neighborhood. I immediately called not-Designated Driver. I gave them the option of not needing one, so I sure as hell wasn't going to be responsible for driving everyone around.
Despite the plans, I was very excited about the evening. I had put together a pretty rockin' outfit, and was feeling very good. Our first stop however, was a party in midtown, nicknamed the "gayborhood." It was indeed the gayest party in town. There were men everywhere. All making out with each other. Now I am a friend to the gay community, but on New Year's Eve, that's not really what I'm looking for. Luckily, it wasn't a complete wash, as several of the guys complemented my wardrobe choice, and that means a lot coming from this crowd. Eventually, we managed to make it out of the party and on to the bar, which also happened to be located in the heart of the ghetto. On our way in, we heard several gunshots. I told myself they were celebratory fireworks. The bar also had an awful lot of men making out with other men, as well as plenty of girl-on-girl action, but we met up with my roommate and our cute neighbor there. It was nearly midnight when we arrived, and my roommate and I were entirely too sober. We had some catching up to do, and did we. The cute neighbor was hitting on both of us, which was pretty strange, but when you're in an inebriated state, you don't tend to notice too much.
Finally, we made it back to a bar around the corner to my place. Once we had a table, I got up to get some popcorn to go with all the alcohol. On my way back, my path was blocked by a scruffy looking man, so I politely said excuse me. He turned around, apologized, introduced himself. "Violet," he said. "You're gorgeous. Nice to meet you. Are you here with your boyfriend?"
Ha. Silly boy. Why on earth would I be there with my boyfriend, let alone have one?
I went back to my table where my roommate and cute neighbor were getting a bit cozy. A few minutes later, Popcorn Man (as my roommate has referred to him so often it's stuck) pulled up a chair next to me and started talking. We chatted while my roommate and neighbor quite obviously analyzed our interaction. I was in a pretty good place though, and managed to ignore the fact that they were staring and breaking down our every move. Before leaving, Popcorn Man said he would love to take me out sometime, and did I have any plans for the rest of the weekend? I gave him my number.
My roommate, the neighbor, and I walked back to our place, where we cooked breakfast, and the neighbor tried to put the moves on my roommate, and she tried to get away. She accomplished this by putting me in between them. We have a pretty good-sized kitchen, but it felt very crowded. A sober me would have felt uncomfortable. We couldn't get the neighbor to leave. I went to bed, but while I've been assured that nothing happened, he is officially "a situation." (In that my roommate is not interested. He's kind of a man-whore.)
New Year's Day. The Popcorn Man actually called. We decided to go out for drinks that night. I figured a date on the first day of the new year is a very good sign. While talking to him, I decided he's the perfect candidate for a Mr. Right Now. He's scruffy and bearded and fun to talk to. He paid for my drinks and opened doors. He even texted me a few minutes ago to say that he had fun last night. But halfway through our first drink he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and asked did I mind if he smoked?
Ugh. I know I'm not looking for everlasting love here, but this is one of those dealbreakers I have yet to get over. It's just so unattractive. Even when I was on a remote island with Mr. Almost Perfect, I couldn't get past it. I've never actually snogged a regular smoker. And while I know my New Year's resolution is to get more action, I'm posing this question to any of you who might have experience: Is snogging a smoker worth it?
This year, I thought it would be easiest to go out in my neighborhood, within walking distance of my place. There are no shortage of bars in a three-block radius, and we wouldn't have to worry about a designated driver or paying for a taxi. Anyone who wanted to was welcome to crash on my floor. But sure enough, my friends had ideas of their own that didn't involve my neighborhood. I immediately called not-Designated Driver. I gave them the option of not needing one, so I sure as hell wasn't going to be responsible for driving everyone around.
Despite the plans, I was very excited about the evening. I had put together a pretty rockin' outfit, and was feeling very good. Our first stop however, was a party in midtown, nicknamed the "gayborhood." It was indeed the gayest party in town. There were men everywhere. All making out with each other. Now I am a friend to the gay community, but on New Year's Eve, that's not really what I'm looking for. Luckily, it wasn't a complete wash, as several of the guys complemented my wardrobe choice, and that means a lot coming from this crowd. Eventually, we managed to make it out of the party and on to the bar, which also happened to be located in the heart of the ghetto. On our way in, we heard several gunshots. I told myself they were celebratory fireworks. The bar also had an awful lot of men making out with other men, as well as plenty of girl-on-girl action, but we met up with my roommate and our cute neighbor there. It was nearly midnight when we arrived, and my roommate and I were entirely too sober. We had some catching up to do, and did we. The cute neighbor was hitting on both of us, which was pretty strange, but when you're in an inebriated state, you don't tend to notice too much.
Finally, we made it back to a bar around the corner to my place. Once we had a table, I got up to get some popcorn to go with all the alcohol. On my way back, my path was blocked by a scruffy looking man, so I politely said excuse me. He turned around, apologized, introduced himself. "Violet," he said. "You're gorgeous. Nice to meet you. Are you here with your boyfriend?"
Ha. Silly boy. Why on earth would I be there with my boyfriend, let alone have one?
I went back to my table where my roommate and cute neighbor were getting a bit cozy. A few minutes later, Popcorn Man (as my roommate has referred to him so often it's stuck) pulled up a chair next to me and started talking. We chatted while my roommate and neighbor quite obviously analyzed our interaction. I was in a pretty good place though, and managed to ignore the fact that they were staring and breaking down our every move. Before leaving, Popcorn Man said he would love to take me out sometime, and did I have any plans for the rest of the weekend? I gave him my number.
My roommate, the neighbor, and I walked back to our place, where we cooked breakfast, and the neighbor tried to put the moves on my roommate, and she tried to get away. She accomplished this by putting me in between them. We have a pretty good-sized kitchen, but it felt very crowded. A sober me would have felt uncomfortable. We couldn't get the neighbor to leave. I went to bed, but while I've been assured that nothing happened, he is officially "a situation." (In that my roommate is not interested. He's kind of a man-whore.)
New Year's Day. The Popcorn Man actually called. We decided to go out for drinks that night. I figured a date on the first day of the new year is a very good sign. While talking to him, I decided he's the perfect candidate for a Mr. Right Now. He's scruffy and bearded and fun to talk to. He paid for my drinks and opened doors. He even texted me a few minutes ago to say that he had fun last night. But halfway through our first drink he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and asked did I mind if he smoked?
Ugh. I know I'm not looking for everlasting love here, but this is one of those dealbreakers I have yet to get over. It's just so unattractive. Even when I was on a remote island with Mr. Almost Perfect, I couldn't get past it. I've never actually snogged a regular smoker. And while I know my New Year's resolution is to get more action, I'm posing this question to any of you who might have experience: Is snogging a smoker worth it?
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