The identities of all parties in the following factual account have been changed and will not be revealed for any reason: don’t ask.
One of the best habits for members of our gullible species to get is skepticism, which is why I was pleased to be challenged about a recent suggestion of mine that some students “hook-up” with professors. After a little digging, I am equally pleased—and amused—to submit the following abridged interview transcript for your base entertainment. Let’s call it “Professors in Love.”
Meeting Steph* on the steps of the Chapel I feel a twinge of jealousy—the curmudgeonly old professor is a lucky man, to touch her, to caress that waist, to trace his hands down the hourglass to her hips, to run his gnarled, ink-stained fingers through her light brown hair. The ache is almost too much to take.
M. Gillum: So somebody is enrolled in a class, goes to lecture and meets with a professor, but how does the relationship get beyond normal student-teacher interaction?
Steph: [earlier in the semester] He sent us this e-mail, inviting us to a party at his house. I didn’t go. But then comes the weekend it all goes down. People [students in the class] invited him out. He’s like, “Yeah, call.” So I go and pre-party with these guys. They call him and he says that he is in Durham and we agree to meet up later.
S: Anyway, we’re getting ready to go out to Shooters. I was like really, really drunk. About 20 minutes after we get to Shooters I am in the bathroom throwing up. Now it’s probably 1:15. He calls me, leaves message asking, “Are you still there?” Around 1:30 I call him back and he’s like, “Is it worth me coming? I’m like: come, whatever.” I hang up the phone and I’m like oh God he’s actually coming. I look for my friends [from the class], but I can’t find them. He gets there at a quarter ’till two. I walk him around Shooters holding his hand.
S: I don’t know how we all decided that he would be taking us [Steph and her other friends] home. He was like, “Where do you guys live?” I’m in the back drunk and out of it. My roommate thinks I’m going to West [where we pre-partied] and so she gets out on Central and shuts the door. We go to West and drop off the other person. Then he’s like “So where do you live?” and I’m like Central. I’m like so wasted. We drive back to Central and I’m still in the back-seat. I had just read He’s Just Not That Into You. I’m like inspired. So I say: you’re not that into me, I’m going to go. Then he says, “No, you don’t get it,” and kisses me. We made out for 15 or 20 minutes, I don’t know. Every once in a while he says, “I shouldn’t be doing this, you’re my student. I have to give you a grade.” I was like whatever. I was saying things like; I know this is what you wanted.
S: So we make out longer in the car. Eventually, he’s like, “You need to go back to your apartment.” We get out of the car and have to walk around the Anderson apartment building. In the middle of the sidewalk I’m like I don’t want you to go and we start making out on the wall there.
S: That went on for a little while I got scared people were going to come by and see me. I say come to my apartment, come to my apartment. He says I want to come to your apartment and when I drive away I’ll wish I had come to your apartment but I can’t. I was like yes you can.
S: We’re like at the door and I’m inside and he’s outside and I’m pulling in and he’s pulling out and I’m pulling back in. I get pulled back out and we make out outside. He’s like I have to go and starts walking away. I start following him. I was like what are you doing. He was like, “I’m going to call you. I just can’t do this now.” And he left.
MG: How was he as a kisser?
S: From what I remember it was good. It must have been good because I kept trying to get him to come in and I wouldn’t have if it were bad.
Author’s Postscript: After the initial “hook-up” the professor contacted the student in and they met at a bar. Unfortunately, it was ’80s night and he kept making creepy comments about how the music was popular before she was born. This fact—coupled with the loss of the power fantasy satisfied by being his student, was sufficient to end their passionate, albeit brief, relationship.
- not her real name
Matt Gillum is a Trinity senior.
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