...i should have been a country singer...

Epiphany: Having the guy you like suddenly become your French TA is definately not a good thing. You would think it would be. You would think it means you see him more aften than the once in a blue moon you saw him before. But you don't realise that now he's become formal-professional and you'll be tongue tied in his presence, and afraid to speak French in fear he will realise you aren't, in fact, perfect.

Also you'll demonstrate your inherent nerdiness subconsciously at every occasion. Like when completing an exercise where you tell the class what object/organism you would be if you could be any, you announce to all and sundry that you would be a page from a book in which is written all our stories. In the bemused silence that follows, your soul plummets into a shattered heap at the bottom of your new black schoolgirl shoes. And even though he liked your answer (though you don't know it yet, and how could you ever believe it?) all you're thinking about is the hot girl in pointy boots and tight blouse and dangly earrings who announced that she would be a cat so she could "lounge, lap up milk, and be stroked every day". Oh. Please. As IF that isn't obvious at all. My schoolgirl shoes and I shot her glares.

"Sanam, Sanam", he says as the class ends and students start packing up, "quelle surprise de vous voir dans ma classe". I nod dumbly. "Eh, c'arrive" he continues. Again, some nodding and the occasional vowel sound. I think he's picking up that I've lost the ability to communicate and decides not to torture me more. "A bientot, a la prochaine fois".

I kicked myself all the way home.