Under the weight of a schoolboy crush

Or schoolgirl crush. Whichever.

Today was my last day of music. We took our final, but more importantly, I officially met Jason for the first time. I'll stick to my story that I'm not a freak for always knowing peoples' names before they know mine.

To make a long story short, the final killed my brain, but I still had enough will left to make the strategic move to leave the room at the same time as Jason. I'm thinking HE wanted to talk to MEH as well because he stopped to fiddle around with his backpack to wait for me to catch up. Naturally, I walked past him (casually). Then, I held the door open for him. Why? Because I'm kind. Then he started it all off with a, "Phowwaaa... that test was so long..." The rest is history, kids. I'm a taken woman, wisened in the ways of the world. Ask me anything, I suddenly give great advice and know all answers.

Not ONLY did we talk while leaving class, we talked as we walked through the campus, over the bridge, and then stopped outside of my dorm because he was obviously impressed by my charm/heart shaped sunglasses Mare bought me. Anyway, he's an English major. "What do you want to do with that?" I ax'd. He wants to work in publishing. He has Bob Dylan sunglasses and is an English major. He enrolled in a dance class hoping to "get down" only to be disappointed by lectures and power points. He has enjoyed slacking through his years at state, digs the local bars and lack of hipsters in Normal Heights, is graduating next month, and is scared. How much more appealing/endearing can you get to Lilia?

Bittersweet time, bittersweet time indeed. We shook hands and formally introduced ourselves, sad only to meet the last day of class. I told him I'd shoot him (with my hand that is a gun) if I ever saw him around campus, then he told me his name was Jason. But I knew that. That's the way love goes, to quote Janet. I'm sad that he's graduating next month, but hope to see him sitting around on the benches with those Bob Dylan/Malcolm X glasses, smoking a cigarette and enjoying the so cal sun. If anyone can pull off a cancer stick, it's him.

To all of the boys out there who can conversate, voluntarily sign up to take a dance class, and actually know what Malcolm X's glasses were shaped like, I say, "Huzzah!" Got git them girls.

Being in love is tough. Sad times are to come, but will be aided by the even sadder and more dramatic Conor Oberst, so life is good.

Bright Eyes - You Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will