The first class: finding your target
There’s no disputing that the most important thing to do during syllabus week is to identify the hottest guy in each of your classes. You’ve learned (more than likely from experience) that it’s never a good idea to hook up with someone who you share a 9:00am class with. They’ll see you when you show up, unshowered, and still drunk from a night out. They’ll hear you ask your teacher for extra credit at the end of the semester. Worst of all, they may even try to sit beside you. Yet, class would seem meaningless if it wasn’t turned into your own personal dating pool, and honestly, you can’t think of a better way to motivate yourself to go to lecture.
It’s never hard to find your prey on the first day. First, you eliminate all of the guys who are sitting, chained, next to their girlfriends, who thought that it would be fun if they spent more time together inside of a classroom. Next, you can rule out the guys that you won’t see again until the midterm. There’s no point in crushing on the guy who’s already figuring out how he can sneak out of the lecture fifteen minutes into it. By the time you also eliminate the ones who are watching porny things while the professor is talking, the ones you’ve already establish are annoying from previous classes and the ones wearing man sandals, it’s quite easy to find the one.
The second class: getting in proximity
You want a guy who participates a bit, but isn’t annoying. Does well on all of the assignments, but is still willing to go for a drink the night before the final exam. You’re over back-row slackers, the whole idea of them is very high school. There’s a good chance that your dream guy sits close to the front of the room, since he’s so self assured and confident that he knows it won’t make him seem like a keener.
“Do you mind if I sit here? My eyesight is so bad, that I need to be close to the front to be able to see,” you say, slipping on your glasses that may or may not be fake, but definitely give the appearance of college dream girl.
“Go ahead, that’s why I sit up here too.”
Well, our kids may be blind, but at least they’ll be gorgeous.
The third class: missing in action
You consciously don’t show up for class. As much as you wanted to sit through a three-hour lecture on theory while being painfully hungover, your absence was a strategic move. Not only will your new desk-buddy notice that he wasn’t graced with your presence today, but it’s the perfect opportunity to get his number… I mean notes. If missing class is the sacrifice that you need to take to accomplish your goals, then so be it. What can you say, you work hard to get the things that you want.
The fourth class: putting your plan into action
You took an hour to get ready in the morning, and your roommate called you out for wearing a padded pushup bra to a 9am lecture; however, you purposely arrive to class one minute late so that you’re able to whisper that you can’t believe you slept in and “just woke up twenty minutes ago.” You professor might not be your biggest fan, however it seems like this guy is starting to be.
You wait for an appropriate amount of time before mentioning that you weren’t around last class. To be honest, you’re a bit disappointed that he didn’t bring it up first. He asks if you’re alright, and you respond back that you were just really hungover last week; however he doesn’t seem impressed that you’re able to outdrink a frat guy. You decided to expand, saying “I think that going out after was just a bad idea after I had spent the entire day volunteering with kids, I just didn’t want to let my friends down. I think that the kids were sick. I volunteer with sick kids.” A Mother Theresa who also loves a good vodka cran? How could you be any more perfect?
“Wow, that’s so cool, do you want my notes?” he offers kindly. Honestly, you’re such a genius, you’re unsure why you even need school. “Let me give you my number,” you respond. “And make sure to text me if you ever need notes… or anything.”
The fifth class: bonding over education
Just when you were starting to think that your professor didn’t like you for not showing up to class, showing up to class late, and spending the entire time flirting with the guy who sits beside you instead of actually paying attention, they went and proved you wrong by assigning a group project. You try to act casual as you look over at him and say “partners?”
That was too easy. You grab two other fillers, who will neither bring nothing, nor distract your man, into your group to solidify your position as the center of attention.
The sixth class: going outside the classroom walls
“We really need to start working on this group project, I hate leaving things till the last minute,” you remind the group, a statement that was necessary to wear the fake glasses while saying. “I live really close to campus,” you continue, “we could meet at my place to work on it?” Filler #2 starts to protest, “I can even make cookies,” you say with a smile. Pretending to be nice can be exhausting.
You conveniently have night class, and offer to meet later on in the evening. You skip your night class and spend the entire time getting ready. Not only do you curl your hair and bake the stupid cookies, but you crank up the heat in the house, so that you can use the rising temperature as an excuse to take off your sweater and reveal the barely-there shirt that you conveniently have on underneath. When your crush knocks on the door you momentarily forget that he’s here to actually study.
A couple of hours in, he abruptly gets up and starts packing away his things. “Sorry guys, I have early morning class tomorrow, I’ll finish the rest from home.” You pretend not to be crushed as you sadly put your sweater back on.
The final class: the project
“Great job,” your professor says, trying to hide their surprise. You still feel like a failure; after all, the point of this whole group project was to seduce your classmate, not get a good grade. You decide to give it one final attempt. “We’ve worked so hard guys, let’s go out and celebrate!” you say, staring directly at him. Fillers one and two mumble some excuse, and slowly back away from you, obviously happy to have escaped you and the crazy.
“Looks like it’s just you and me then?” he said, not playing dumb for the first time the entire semester.
“Perfect,” you reply, silently hoping that he didn’t have any classes with you next semester.
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