When I was in college, I belonged to an organization that was comprised of a large group of girls. For a year, I listened to these girls talk about English 154 and how everyone had to take it. It was Victorian Lit…you know, the Bronte sisters and all. Who hadn’t read at least some of that in high school? I didn’t really understand why I had to take that class. I mean, I probably would have anyway, but they made it sound like I’d be banished if I didn’t sign up. They kept going on and on about this Professor and how hot he was. I’d taken enough English courses by then to be slightly skeptical of their assessment. I’d seen a lot of bow-tied grandpas and a very effeminate Chaucer grad student and a lot of corduroy elbow pads. A lot. So I wasn’t holding my breath, but I signed up anyway.
It took me all of 5 seconds to understand that these girls were right. He was good-looking, but not in a Brad Pitt kind of way. He had a buzz cut, but somehow this managed to make his five o’clock receding-hairline shadow seem sexy. Professor Aguirre also wore glasses and had the requisite elbow pads sewn onto his corduroy jackets. He wasn’t exactly dressed to be People Magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive, so I still had my breath after my first sight of him as he entered the room. That is, until he spoke. As soon as he started speaking about how he liked to read Jane Eyre on rainy days, I went into cartoon swoon mode. Hot doesn’t even begin to describe it. To listen to him talk about Victorian literature was like being in a heavenly dream world that I’d never want to leave. I can’t believe I even took any notes that quarter. I swear I spent four hours every week drooling.
By far the best moment–the moment when I fell head-over-heels in love with him–was after the final exam. He’d said to us at the start that it was a “fucker of an exam”. We all laughed nervously. When I was finished, I lingered a bit in my seat, not wanting my quarter with Professor Adonis to be over. Finally, I had no choice but to turn in my paper. As I walked up and placed it in his box, he looked up at me and said, “That was a fucker of an exam, wasn’t it Mrs. Darcy?” He knew my name! He talked to me! I’ve died and gone to heaven! I think I said something witty like, “Yeah” and then stumbled over a desk as I backed my way out of the room.
Damn, that guy was hot.