You is One Lucky Bastard


Shmemistry Teacher was definitely interested, y’all. She cleared up any doubts I had one night when I was out with some friends. It was midnight, and we were at the dollar theatre in our college town watching a movie when I received a very drunk, nearly incoherent, but super flirty text message from her. I don’t remember the details of what that message said but I do remember whisper-yelling down the row of seats at my friends, “Shmemistry Teacher just drunk texted me!” This was neither the time nor the place to share this hot gossip, but we aren’t always in charge of when we receive drunk texts from our teachers.

She ended up asking me to come meet her outside of a bar later that night… outside of the bar because I was still a baby and couldn’t get INSIDE the bar. Hot, I know. She asked me to bring her a snack (Ritz peanut butter cracker sandwiches), which I went to 3 gas stations before finding because I’m that much of a kiss ass. When I walked up she was on the patio with her friends, but she came out to meet me on the other side of the fence outside the bar. The fence provided us with a little bit of privacy, but I was pretty sure that her friends were spying on this romantic Ritz cracker rendezvous the whole time.

*Theme music and opening credits play*

She was all smiles when I showed up, leaning into my neck, touching my arms, and she smelled like tequila. I’m not the type to take advantage of a situation like that, but before I knew it she had stood on her tiptoes to kiss me lightly on the lips. I pulled back and raised my eyebrows at her, “I thought…”

“Oh shut up.” She said before leaning back in. That’s all the convincing I needed before grabbing her by the hips and pushing her against the fence and making out with her like the horny not-really-teenager that I was. After a quick but hot make out sesh she thanked me for the peanut butter crackers and made her way back to her friends. I left feeling on top of the world, not knowing that my night out at the dollar theatre watching The Help was going to end this way. Chris, You is kind. You is smart. You is important. You is one lucky bastard.

When I told Courtney (and then Shmermione the next week in class) they were both completely astounded… I mean, not even I knew I had this much game. Shmemistry Teacher played it totally cool in class, because this clearly wasn’t her first rodeo, but she would text me on and off during the week. She made sure to never explicitly talk about us doing anything inappropriate however, for fear of what could happen if someone got ahold of that paper trail of our misbehavior. Pics or it didn’t happen, amiright?

I ended up inviting Shmemistry Teacher to Shmellen’s birthday party at our house, a few weeks later. Shmellen is a total nerd so we decided to throw a nerd/science themed party and I thought this would be right up Shmemistry Teacher’s alley. When I invited her she immediately told me she couldn’t be seen at a party with a bunch of undergrads, but come the night of the party she was texting me asking for the address. This girl was 125% mixed signals and I was 125% into it.

When she showed up she asked to speak with me outside. I was rocking a short-sleeve button up, bow tie, and glasses plus tousled hair, and I had already had a few drinks when I sat out on our balcony with her. Tonight was going to be a good night, I could feel it.

“Look, this is fun and all, but I can’t keep kissing you. It’s not allowed, and no offense but this isn’t worth losing my job over.” …uh, so maybe tonight wasn’t going to be a good night.

I didn’t take offense to this one bit but I also wasn’t going to make her leave the party, so I told her I understood and made my way back into the apartment, found the birthday girl and proceeded to do some jell-o shots. I didn’t waste any time trying to assure her that I wasn’t hurt, because I was young, drunk, and honestly this romantic storyline had already exceeded my expectations. I went off to do shots of plastic-bottle-vodka like the mature adult I was when I saw that Shmemistry Teacher had followed me into the crowded party. I was glad that she stayed because this party was made for her (hello, actual science nerd teacher person in a science nerd themed party??) and because it gave me the opportunity to show her just how unfazed I was by her ending things with me. If there’s something I’m good at it’s looking hot while flirting with people in front of someone who has turned me down. In later years I would perfect this skill into a real art form.

Not twenty minutes into my cool act, drinking with girls, dancing, and generally just giving Shmemistry Teacher the cold shoulder she pulled me by my hand into my bedroom.

“Wow there sure are a lot of women on your walls.” She said as we closed the door, gesturing to the posters of mostly athletes but also celebrities who I crushed on. I shrugged and sat down on my bed, not really sure why my room decor was significant. “Don’t you think it’s a little bit objectifying to just hang women up like decoration?” The tone of her voice was getting higher and I could tell she was upset.

“In all honesty, half those women are people I idolize. That’s Becky Hammon, she holds the world record for most free throws in a minute…of any man or woman! That’s Abby Wambach, arguably the best female soccer player ever. That’s Kristen Stewart… okay, yeah, she’s just up there cause she’s a total babe.” I was drunk and a little offended that I was in trouble for thinking these women were hot, I wasn’t the first person to hang posters on their wall. I was 19, what decorations was I supposed to hang up? I wasn’t into dudes so of course there were female celebrities instead of Justin Bieber or Taylor Lautner or whoever was cool back in 2012. Why couldn’t we be talking about the photographs I had hung up around my window or the art I had made hanging above my head board. Hell, we could even be talking about my extensive shoe collection, anything but this.

“I’ve just heard you talk about how gross the guys in your class are and here you are, just like them.” She said in quite a judgey tone.

“Okay so this is where I cut you off. You may be my teacher, but you don’t know a damn thing about me, and you’re making a lot of assumptions based on shallow observations of what, my college bedroom?” On that note I left the bedroom, I wasn’t there to be lectured, I had done nothing wrong to Shmemistry Teacher in this situation and she was clearly projecting her feelings of insecurity or fear or whatever onto me however she could. Plus, the guys in my Shmemistry class were gross. They were frat dudes who wore visors for God’s sake.

I made it to the kitchen before I felt her grabbing my hand again. “I’m leaving, walk me to my car?” This woman was all over the place, she thought I was a pig but also the gentleman you want to walk you to your car? Maybe 125% was too low of a number for the level of mixed signals this girl sent.

When we got to her small black Mazda she grabbed me and started kissing me and then she was putting my hand down her pants. Yeah, you heard me right, 10 minutes ago she was lecturing me about objectifying women and 30 minutes before that she was telling me how we couldn’t kiss anymore — but there we were. She opened the back door of her car and pulled me inside on top of her and I was thankful (for once) that I was a pretty small person because this was not a roomy vehicle. I was confused but also excited, this was what I had been hoping for the whole time, and it was definitely hot, despite her weird vibes toward me all night.

She informed me that she wouldn’t get off unless oral was involved so, like the champ I am, I somehow got my head between her legs in that tiny sedan. Having sex in small cars was how I started out hooking up with the ladies and those lessons I learned as a teenager would serve me well on this night and many nights to come. I got her off several times before she pulled my face back up to hers and then said in true mixed-signal fashion, “Oh no don’t kiss me.” AKA you smell like my vagina which you just ate out for twenty minutes and gave me a handful of orgasms, but that’s gross. And then, as if that wasn’t the cherry on top of this convoluted sundae, she told me she couldn’t reciprocate because she “wasn’t gay.”

You think maybe she could have mentioned that before… like, “oh hey heads up I’m a total pillow princess.” One way sex is totally a thing, like, yes you can have sex and only one person participate but it helps when there’s a mutual understanding before going into the act, and the way she said it was just so… rude. I disentangled myself from her petite frame and exited her car, closing her in the back seat like the southern gentleman I am.

She proceeded to text me the rest of the summer but I’m gonna say I dodged a bullet on that one because she was hot, but she really wasn’t all that fun, and I’m not about that judgey-not-kissing-after-oral-can’t-appreciate-a-woman’s-beauty-doesn’t-give-and-only-takes-sorta-relationship. No thank you.

*Next time on Nobody Scissors old habits die hard…*


Teacher’s Pet


It was sophomore year still, second semester, and I had a smoking hot chemistry teacher who was young (but still 9 years older than me, SCORE), questionably gay, and let us call her by her first name in class. She was very petite, tan-skinned, dark haired, with gauged ears and a lip ring. For the sake of privacy, I will refer to her from now on as Shmemistry Teacher (in all honesty, in real life we always called her this as well because it was funny).

I sat at our lab table with Courtney and another lesbian friend of ours, let’s call her Shmermione, from the rugby team, who both thought I was ridiculous for constantly flirting with our teacher. But I was single and hooking up with a teacher is a total fantasy that everyone has, right?

*Theme music and opening credits play*

I decided the most fool-proof way to decide if she was gay was to wear the gayest shirt I owned at the time (an “I enjoy vagina” tee from Spencers), and see if I could get a rise out of her. Honestly I think the shirt was less to blame than this face *bats eyelashes* as I asked her to come over and help me with the lab we were working on.

Shmermione and Courtney rolled their eyes as I playfully touched our teacher’s hand, asked her to review my work, and winked as she leaned across me in my seat. While they both told me that I had a -0% chance of actually hooking up with Shmemistry teacher, they did place bets on how long they thought it would take for me to crash and burn. We had to find some way to make learning about compound solutions and molecules interesting after all.

“I love that tattoo.” She said, gesturing to a compass I have on my forearm. She went on to ask me about my other tattoos and I resisted the urge to pull my shirt up in the middle of our classroom to show her the quote on my ribs, but told her the song it was from and she told me she was going to go home and look it up.

“I’m in y’all.” I said to my friends, and we did our secret lesbian hand shake (spoiler alert, it’s a low five).

Before the day was even over I received an email from Shmemistry Teacher.

Hi Chris,

I know I could have waited until our next class but I wanted to tell you I listened to that song and I loved it, so I listened to the rest of his album and have to admit you have great taste. We should get together for coffee sometime and talk music some more.

xo Shmemistry Teacher 

“HOLY FUCK! SHMEMISTRY TEACHER ASKED ME TO COFFEE, THIS IS NOT REAL LIFE.” I told Courtney way too loudly in the middle of our painting class, and our teacher shot me a look. Sor-ry! Jeez. I was about to go on a maybe-date with our hot teacher, I was a little pumped, don’t be jealous shmainting teacher.

We planned to meet the next day in between two of her labs. We showed up and sat on the patio of a small coffee shop just off campus, she ordered a Matcha something or other and some pita bread and hummus, I ordered a latte and sat opposite her.

We discussed music, school, our pets, relationships (she wasn’t gay, bummmmmmmer), her affinity for snakes and my lack of affinity for body parts that looked like snakes, and so on. We talked until she realized she was late for her next class, but she asked me come by her office later that week if I wanted to talk more. I mean I’m totally not reading into anything here. I know I’m only a 19-year-old inexperienced baby lesbian but she was giving me some positive vibes. Plus when we discussed our favorite foods we both professed our love of tacos and everyone knows that being a food taco lover is a gateway to being a lady taco lover.

When I went to visit her office later that week after my typography class that was in an adjacent building she told me she had to run to her house which was in the town south of us and asked if I wanted to join her. THIS IS ABOUT THE TIME MY INSIDES WERE FREAKING OUT. DID SHE JUST INVITE ME OVER? IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY? COULD I REALLY SKIP CLASS? Okay, I skipped class. Thankfully I had a twin to take notes for me — shoutout to Courtney for being the best wingman EVER.

I rode with her and we listened to music, she made fun of me for not knowing some of the songs that came on, I promptly informed her that I was born in 1992 which made me an infant at the time of some of these songs’ release dates. It’s always a huge turn on to tell an older woman that you were born in the nineties, that’s a tip from me to you.

When we got to her house we walked her dog, she showed me some nature photography she had done, she grabbed a snack and then we left. That’s it. The L word had led me to believe that anytime a girl invites you over you are gonna rock paper scissor your way into said girl’s pants, but things didn’t quite work out that way this time. Damn that show for giving me false expectations.

When we were in the car on the way back to school, she turned to me and asked, “Why do lesbians always like straight girls?” I guess my attraction to her wasn’t as subtle as I had tried to make it.
“You know, I’m not sure, but then again I’m not sure why ‘straight’ girls always like me so much either.” I said with a smirk and she nodded in response. Well played self, way to turn that one around.

Though the trip we had made was uneventful, it resulted in her asking for my number, which felt like a step in a direction that might lead to a taco party. I was looking forward to where this less than appropriate student-teacher relationship was headed.

Mostly I was hoping to find out if we had any Shmexual Shmemistry, ya feel?

*Next time on nobody scissors, we definitely have a little shmemistry…*