Last weekend I was at a friend's place for an impromptu party. It was me, Tom, a bunch of law students and a Cranium game. Also there was root beer and ice cream and Sunchips. One of my law school friends, we'll call her Penny, has been single for a while and is enjoying her singlishness by a little casual dating. One of the ways she has been meeting boys is via the internet. She has signed up with one of the many free services where people put a profile up in hopes that someone will see it and feel all lustful and it will be magic!
Anyway, periodically the system she signed up for mails profiles of potential matches to her so she can look them over and hopefully feel all lustful and it will be magic! It is presumed that the computer goes through some sort of calculus and after crunching the numbers comes up with a potential match that will make people feel all lustful and it will be magic!
This friend took a few moments to check her email and one of these profiles had been mailed to her. I was in the kitchen and I heard a caterwauling that was, well it was impressive. Now keep in mind this was a girl party. Two gay boys and about 2,987,539,478,253 girls. I went to go see what was going on and there on the screen for everyone to see was a photo of one of our professors playing baseball with a couple of children. That's right, he'd taken out a personal ad and it had been mailed to one of his former students. And not just any student, but a student that hates him. She sat in his class day after day, her resentment growing, her impatience palpable, her hatred burning.
Let me just say here that this particular professor teaches a very difficult subject and as a result there is a wide variety of opinions about him. Some people love him. Some hate him. Some resent him for bad grades. Some are grateful for the opportunities he's provided them. The only constant is that everyone has an opinion about him. Everyone knows who he is. He is really instantly recognizable.
To better set the scene here's a bunch of screaming fags and girls jumping up and down and trying to get a hold of the situation. What do we do with this? Do we torture him? What did he put under turn-ons? What kind of girl is he looking for? Is he looking for a girl? Does he have an x rated picture that we can pay the site to show us?
We got control of ourselves and conferenced in the living room. We sat around exhausted from our screaming fit, nursing our sides from the extreme laughter we had been caught up in. Now we had to decide what to do with this information. There were a number of possibilities. One suggestion was to set up a meeting. Penny flatly ruled that out. Another suggestion was to drop personal details we had learned from the personal ad when we passed him in the halls.
Now, I can't tell you what we decided to do with the information because that would ruin our secret surprise. What I can tell you is that I hope to never come across something quite so interesting again. Knowing that one of my professors prefers walks on the beach to picnics in the park and is looking for a vixen with a heart of gold is a little like walking in on my parents having sex.
These professor people are supposed to be asexual amorphous beings that live on a hill and never have to wipe their asses because they don't ever do anything which would require a clean up. They live over there. We live in the real world down here. Down here. Not over there.
Posted at 12:28 a.m.
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