Hello, World.

My posture became catastrophically rigid as Chris sat two chairs in front of me.

The professor was routinely administering the principles of interpersonal relationships, yet during this particular session, noted that he would focus on romantic associations. He expressed the desire for an analytical discussion on our perceptions regarding the idealist imagery each have conspired throughout personal experiences and observations. Each student had their turn to describe their somewhat fictitious yet hopelessly romantic dreams, leaving a note of forlorn solemnity in the air. Many spoke and spontaneously divulged in their deepest wishes. I let out a sigh, followed by an unintentionally loud,

"You've got to be kidding me."

All eyes instantaneously shot in my direction. I swallowed. My legs suddenly felt the strain from sitting Indian-style in what seemed to be a chair with the dimension of a booster seat. A few were still ahead of me to describe what would constitute a romantic relationship, yet, due to my remark teeming with negativity, the professor turned to me prematurely instead.

"Someone must have never felt the passion or affection of love before."

I grimaced inside. Was this appropriate to publicly accuse a student of an apparent pessimism towards any relational closeness? I looked back at him, and for once, felt no appeal for communication. I pulled my legs out of the awkward position I had first placed them in, and pigheadedly folded my arms across my chest.

"Could you share with us what you want, then?"

The room became silent, the temperature seemed to rise, and humidity set in. I noticed writing on the desk in front of me that read with ironic blatancy, 'L + J,' encircled by a heart. I opened my mouth, then closed it again, thinking of my reply.

"I just want someone to want to be with me, for who I am, and think I'm worth something."

My head dropped in an uncontrollable fashion. I didn't understand why I became so emotional at that second, feeling overwhelmed with a sense of isolation. The rest of the class period seemed to come and go without recollection, as I tried to muster my thoughts and sentiments. Chris looked back at me.

He gets up out of his seat, and picks up his notebook that he placed on the chair that separated us. He breached what little hope I had of a security screen. Class had ended, and I was hastily storing away my paper, lucky pen, and phone when I heard him.

"Court, you know, I just need to tell you a few things."

Chris is a 30-something male who is currently working towards his bachelors degree in Communication. Tall, broad, and blond, he cunningly acquired my phone number off of a private contact list on a previous class we had together. Chris, in all his nature, believes in no discursive filter, and is attracted to females significantly younger than him. Rumors of his 'stalker-traits' have been proven repeatedly, and I courteously try to avoid any foreseen encounters. Needless to say with all cynicism aside, he is a nice guy - just, well, too nice.

I held my breath. I glanced at my watch to see the time, trying to subtlety give note that I had somewhere to be. He bends over and I peripherally notice his face about 4 inches from mine. I hesitantly lift my head from my belongings and stare forward, keeping my eyes on the whiteboard as the professor erases his notes. He places his arm on my shoulder, and begins.

"Just to let you know, I can get you into most clubs on Hollywood boulevard."

I let out a laugh at his gift of throwing inhibition to the wind. He smiles and takes a momentous deep breath, as if preparing himself to jump out of a plane.

"Your response in class today told me a few good things about you that you do not know about yourself."

He paused, waiting for an encrypted non-verbal sign to cue his continuance. I offer a mannerly grin.

"You are very attractive, ambitious, independent, down to earth, and a good listener. Most girls I have met only have 2 of the 5 good qualities you have. Also, you make goals and stand by them. It is true, you like spontaneity. Most girls are envious and 99% of guys are intimidated by this. You live your life by experience, touch, movement, and asking the right questions. This is good because this ensures you will never hook up with a loser. Anybody would be lucky to be with you."

*Editors Note: These are his real words. Chris emailed me a bit after class and reiterated what he had stated previously. Thanks, Chris.

He smiles, pats me generously on the back, and exits the room with a 'see you later' shouted on the way out. Everyone had left, and I was alone. I blinked softly and took in his words. The remaining fluorescent lights that were on cast a glow, as the placid hum of the air conditioner added an ounce of serenity to the under-budgeted and empty chamber I found myself in.

I was alone.

I am alone.

I couldn't help but think of my current relations, and delve into the fact that I am excitedly eager to open up, to let someone see who I am - and want me for it. The truth is, I'm scared. The past experiences of stagnancy and complacency have driven myself to strategically hide, never allotting too many emotions ensue due to the expected 'falling out' and being unwanted. What Chris had said seemed like a foreign language, something that seemed perpendicular to all interactions I have come across. Should this be a trial, his salutatory homily lacked supporting evidence. Chris' speech would normally be seen as a diverted ploy at affection and attention, yet, surprisingly, were uttered with an implication of honesty. As much as I appreciate his warm words, I can only imagine, for now, anyone genuinely echoing them.

However, I'm ready when they are.

Genesis 24:44,
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