I Have a Crush On…

I have a crush on my professor.

I know. I know. What am I thinking, right? At least read before you shake your finger at me in defiance. I’m a little maniac and hypersexual right now so please excuse the bipolar. Just don’t make direct eye contact with it.

I developed a harmless mini crush on The One Who is a Silver Fox when I took his class last semester. He is nerdy, awkward, has a dry sense of humor and easygoing. That sexy old geezer turns me on like a key in the ignition y’all! He’s divorced, has a preteen year old daughter and is 23 years my senior. He is definitely the oldest man I’ve ever been attracted to. I undressed him with my eyes occasionally and inspected his dick print during lecture. Yeah…dick print. It’s not monstrous but it seems suffice. 

My feelings went through a complete transformation this semester. I have a burning desire for him! I registered specifically for his class. I sit close to him. I watch his mouth as he speaks. I have intense sexual dreams about him. When he accidentally said “sex” instead of “text” during a lecture, I nearly lost it. Perhaps it was a Freudian slip. Ha!

We tend to hold our gazes too long but I chalked it up to familiarity—until last week.  I was sitting in a secluded study area as he was walking to his office. Our eyes met and we greeted each other as usual. Here is where it deviated from the normal—he smiled like a Cheshire cat and stared until he passed the corner! This lasted about 6-7 seconds. I was initially shocked but I proceeded to do the following dance in my head.

Perhaps this milkshake does brings all the boys to the yard.

I could be overreacting. Maybe he didn’t stare as long as I thought. Maybe time only stood still for me. Maybe he was being really friendly that day. Perhaps he was waiting for me to break the glance first. Who knows? But then again…when I’m in another class, he usually stares right at me when he passes by.

Where do we go from here? No damn where! Duh! Typical me would flirt heavily until I secured the penis if couldn’t get anything tangible. I won’t do that this time. I’m tired of rejection, heartache and booty calls. Can a sista get wooed and pursued before she gets nude? The fantasies just seem safer. I can control them. He does what I like. He gives me long stemmed roses, kisses me like I’m the only woman alive and takes me to fancy restaurants in my head. He’s such a gentleman and kinky! Don’t hate.

Speaking of booty calls…a few days ago, The One Who Sets Me On Fire contacted me after vanishing for 2 months and 7 days. The nerve of him! Yes I counted! I told him I was no longer interested. Truth is, I am horny as hell but I didn’t appreciate him tossing me aside until he was ready to play with me again. And the bromance seems to still be going strong so I’ll pass. No thanks. 

Will I Ever Go On a Good Date?!

A few weeks ago, I met a guy in between classes on campus. Let’s call him The One I Met in the Elevator. He politely greeted me and wanted to know if I was a professor. (He’s actually the third person who has mistaken me for a professor. Hmm. Maybe I need a makeover.) He was handsome, dressed professionally and spoke with a smooth and sexy accent. I’m a sucker for indigenous accents! He told me that I was beautiful. Yeah, it was a little cheesy but it made me blush. We exchanged numbers when the elevator arrived to my floor. I squealed like a schoolgirl in my head. I was on cloud 9 for the rest of the day!

A week later, we went on our first date. The universe gave me signs to cancel the date beforehand. Everything was going wrong. Every outfit I tried on made me look like a fat cow. Granted, I am full figured but I looked extra fluffy y’all! My car wouldn’t start. My neighbor tried to boost my car with no luck. I was an hour and a half late! I should have called the date off but I didn’t. He seemed like a nice guy from our conversations on the phone. I also felt bad for making him wait so long. He offered to pick me up and I obliged.

In the restaurant parking lot, he got way too friendly with his hands. The nice sweet guy I met in the elevator was turning into a major pervert! He wouldn’t stop complimenting my breasts. “African men love big women. You got it. You got it all.” I felt uncomfortable but I didn’t want to cause a ruckus. What if he left me on the side of the road? What if he became violent? What if he put me in a dried out well and told me, “It rubs the lotion on its skin or it gets the hose again.”

He kept grabbing at my breasts. I pushed him away as politely as I could. After several minutes of this, we headed inside the restaurant.

After we ordered our entrees, the awkwardness ensued. To break the ice, he asked about my last relationship and why it failed. It seemed like a strange question for a first date but I played along to break the silence. When I posed the question to him, he went on a tangent about his ex-girlfriend. His demeanor changed. I saw the anger in his eyes. He said that he gave her everything and she cheated on him. He also said that he wasn’t looking for anything serious—just fun. I’ve heard this song and dance before. Fun=sex. Lucky me! These types always flock to me. Strike 1.

I decided (in my head) that this would be the last time we would meet. He did another strange thing. He tried to go through in my purse! Who does that?! Strike 2! Religion became the next topic of conversation. He told me that he was heavily involved in the church and wanted to know about my religious beliefs. After my response, the date went downhill.

As I braced myself for the backlash I said, “I don’t believe in religion.”

“So you hate Jesus?” he said in a judgmental tone.

“No…I don’t hate Jesus. I’m spiritual…just not religious.”

He gave a 30-40 minute sermon mocking and insulting my lack of beliefs. He also told me that by the end of the date, I would convert to Christianity! By this time, I had enough! I started to feel sick to my stomach. Strike 3! I excused myself to the restroom to calm down and to figure out an exit strategy. Damn! There wasn’t a window like the movies. But then again, none of this voluptuousness would fit anyway. Ha! And I did not bring enough money for cab fare!

I decided to put on my big girl panties! Ok…they were more like medium girl panties. I told him that I wanted to leave because I wasn’t feeling well. He took care of the check and tried to fondle me again inside his vehicle. This time around, I was very stern with him. He found my behavior comical.

“So you’re mad at me now,” he said as he tried to contain his laughter.

“It’s been a long day. I just want to go home.”

“But I can’t drive home like this. You got me so horny. You’re not horny?”

“No. I’m tired. Just want to go home.”

“I’m tired too. Maybe we can get a hotel room?”

“No thanks. Take me home please.”

When we arrived to my apartment, he wanted to know if he could stay for an hour. I declined. Then he suggested 30 minutes. Again, I declined. Then he said the dumbest shit ever.

“I have to hug and kiss you inside your living room. Please. Just 10 minutes. It would make my night.”

I slammed his truck door and went upstairs.

I haven’t heard nor seen him since.

By the way, my car started up the next morning. Perhaps the universe was trying to tell me something.