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…*


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