NEW KINK ALERT: My Classmate is Exploiting Me Daily for Notes But I Kind of Like it
By Bonnie Bu
Some people just spawn fresh out of summer. Tousled OBX-lookin-ass-hair and tanned, jaundice-free skin are their entire look. Maybe they’re even wearing $70 Rainbow flip flops; we all love a little exposed toe! The first day of classes is a great time to shoot your submissive shot with someone, and that’s why the seats next to individuals with such features seem extra, extra empty and ready for your tight ass to plop into.
Maybe you decide to talk to one of these people and get to know their first name, major, place of birth and the gender ratio on their Snap Best Friend List. Oh, how they tease you with such succulent mutters of “uh huh” and “yeah, sure” in those 10 minutes of conversation before the professor looks expectantly toward you to shut the fuck up. As some weeks pass, you notice that your semester-long soulmate seems to dip in and out of class, but it’s ok, they’re probably just working really hard on building their new SoundCloud brand that they casually mentioned to you approximately 2.2 weeks ago.
And do you remember how you gave them your number like four weeks, one day and 16 hours ago in hopes that they would coquettishly text you to go to Suzies at 9:15am on Thursday mornings? Well, things just got better. They are now going through the hassle of searching for your name in their contacts list and typing “Hey, sorry but would you be able to send me the notes from today 🙁 ? I was running on pure inspiration in the studio this morning.” OH MY GOODNESS!! OF COURSE YOU’LL SEND THEM YOUR NOTES EVEN THOUGH YOU KNOW “THE STUDIO” IS JUST A PRACTICE ROOM IN THE BASEMENT OF HANK!!! You would do anything to catch any nugget of their sparkly-eyed thanks.
Now you’re casually texting them “excited for your debut ;)” while boosting their academic passions with sneaky little snippets of your hand-crafted, scholarly supplements. It’s an everyday thing at this point: the attention is overwhelming and delicious, but your eyes are starting to crinkle with specific fear for the future. Will they ever love me? Will my parents only serve me cold pea casserole on Thanksgiving because I am yet to pull a potential spouse? What will I do without a partner to whom I can confide all of my hormonal 8th grade moments? This hot person’s attendance rate is nearly 45 percent at this point while your devotion is just a little under 94 percent. It’s ok, don’t worry. We all know you just really want them for their trust fund. Yolo!
