2011. The college year started differently for me. Having dropped out once, I knew I had to do well and stay focused on grades. And I tried my best. But there was one class I found myself more distracted than the rest. A kind of prep course students had to participate in.
I wasn’t particularly happy about the placement, but the professor… She was like no one I’d ever seen or met. Genuine, kind, and beautiful.
An Irish sweetheart, complete with a biting humor and intoxicating desire for life.
So the semester came and went. A few flirtations exchanged. A few long conversations after class and even some in her office. Nothing crossed a line. Until the last day.
As my young and oblivious classmates exited the room, I stayed for a chat as I had done many times. Except this time I got up the courage and asked her for a drink.
Stunned, and noticeably flattered, she accepted, knowing I was of age and that the conversation would not be dull at least. We laughed at the irony of it all. A professor and a (now) former student. Cliché to a disgusting degree. Yet we had established a good rapport, so we decided on a dive bar.