A couple years ago, I got my first and only B in college. Thanks, multivariable calculus. Mostly, I remember sitting in section confused out of my mind as my TA talked about B coordinates and eigenvectors and stuff. The poor grade was partially my fault; living on the opposite end of the campus as lecture meant I did not go to office hours as much as I should have. As a result, while some girls in my class talked about how the professor was attractive enough to make up for the 12 hours of psets we had to do a week, I skipped lecture often enough that I didn’t even know what he looked like until the final exam. By then I was so tired from 10 straight hours of studying that I barely glanced at him before diving into the blue answer booklets.
I’d totally deleted Professor M and his class from my memory, until recently when I split up with the older man who’d taken my virginity and had been breeding me on the regular. He recommended I rebound with a friend of his, and as pissed off at him as I was at the time, well. When I met Professor M again (in the parking lot of a Denny’s of all places), I noticed all the things I hadn’t the first time: how tall he was, how he could definitely hold me down and keep me down, and how the touch of silver at his temples made him quite handsome.