text: JOURNAL ENTRY FEB. 18TH, 2024 Let me just begin by saying I didn't plan on going out on Valentine’s Day, nor did I intend on dating a complete stranger. Honestly, looking back on it now, I cannot believe I was oblivious to the signs. I should have known that my paternity brothers were setting me up, but I woefully underestimated their mischievous nature. But then again, the only reason I joined Zeta Delta Mu was because they were the most intellectually and mentally mature paternity on campus. They never screamed or acted like wild, untamed brutes. Instead of blasting the speakers with rap or heavy metal, Zeta Delta Mu played calming classical and Zen music. The wildest the paternity gets is during the annual chess tournament which promptly ends at 8 PM. Even so, I chose to avoid the crowds by spending the day at the library. Point being, I had no reason to believe my brothers would have pulled such a prank, and now I’m greatly disappointed in all of them. They mocked me for my blunt and reclusive nature, which I am not ashamed of. As of now, I recall them saying how funny it would be if I went out on a date. They never stopped prodding me to find a girl, even when I batted them away like mosquitoes. My resistance only made them more eager to hook me up with any and every girl on campus. They would recite a list of names and ask which one struck my fancy; the answer was none. Determined to manipulate me to fall in love with someone, they pulled their most deviating prank on me to date. I know this to be a fact, because they confirmed my suspicions to be true once the date was over. I found out later that they took bets on how long we would last, and who would call off the date first. The paternity tricked me with a simple email to my student account. It was from Gagnesh, saying he wanted to meet me at Cafe Crubin at 12:30 PM sharp. I showed up fifteen minutes early and picked a table on the foyer instead of a table inside of the cafe. I chose to sit outside because the inside was decorated for Valentine's Day. I was offended that the staff thought a few hearts and red streamers were enough to manipulate my emotions, but I wasn’t swayed. By 12:35 I grew frustrated. Gagnesh had yet to arrive. It’s not like him to be late, plus he knows my intolerance for tardiness. Just when I was about to get up, a Miss Laura Pilliam sat down. I asked her if she had seen Gagnesh, but she did not. She said Gagnesh told her that he and I were supposed to review her paper for her Science Worldview class. It didn’t take long for me to deduce what was going on, and I informed Miss Pilliam of my conclusion. I explained how my paternity brothers were trying to force me to fall in love with someone, and that she was brought to the cafe under false pretenses. Unfortunately, by the time I finished my explanation the waiter came to take our order. He asked if we wanted to have the Lover’s Special, which forced me to clarify that me and Miss Pilliam were not lovers, not friends, just acquaintances. He apologized for his assumptions and repeated his question if we wanted anything to eat. I told him no, that we were just leaving, but Miss Pilliam ordered two coffees, one for her and one for me, and a few scones. I asked her what she was doing. She explained to me that she really had her essay, and genuinely thought Gagnesh and I would help her. I argued that she could send the paper to my student email, but she brought out a few papers from her bag and said there was no point in wasting precious time. I could not argue with such a practical explanation. I told the server that I wanted my coffee black with two, and only two, drops of milk. He repeated the order back at me and took off with haste. Suddenly, Miss Pilliam plopped her essay on the table. I told her she didn’t need to be dramatic, but she just sat there with her arms crossed and demanded I get on with reading her essay. I won’t write her paper verbatim here, but I can say that her essay’s subject was about the dangers and benefits of oil fracking. The opening paragraph was decent enough, but I started to notice glaring errors when I got into the meat of the paper. The server came with the coffee and the scones, but I was too focused on the essay to take a sip. I snatched the red pen out of my pocket, and started marking every mistake. She asked me what I was doing, but I told her to let me work. The sound of her munching on the scones or taking a sip of her coffee annoyed me to no end. It took all my strength not to strangle her with my bare hands. A violent and ghastly image I know, but that’s what was running through my mind at the time. I told her to stop, which prompted her to ask why. I told her because it broke my concentration, and I couldn’t perform with any distractions. I also added that the noisy environment of the cafe was already testing my limits. With that, she allowed me a few more minutes to work in relative peace. The more I read, the more uneasiness I felt. I’m not saying her mistakes made me ill, but that they looked awfully familiar, like I had seen them before. Then it hit me. The reason why the errors stood out was because I had seen them before in Gagnesh’s writing! I looked up at her and asked point blank if she wrote her own paper. Any other student would refute such an accusation, but, to my surprise and horror, Miss Pilliman confirmed my suspicions. What was worse was that she was smiling about it. She showed no signs of shame of any kind. I warned her that having Gagnesh write her paper for her went against the Student Handbook, and she could get tried for academic fraud. I didn’t get very far with my warning, because she started to laugh. I demanded to know what was so funny, but she went on apologizing for her behavior. Despite her apologies, I could tell she was not taking her crime with the seriousness it deserved. Since she refused to listen, I said my farewell and got up to take my leave. She then had the audacity to beg me to stay. I demanded for her to give me one good reason to stay. She actually did. I hadn’t finished my coffee. I stood there dumbfounded with a tinge of guilt. It felt wrong to force her to pay for something I had ordered but didn’t finish. I agreed to sit back down on the condition that our interaction would end once every ounce of my coffee was gone. She found my terms acceptable. But little did I know that this was her plan from the start. As I took my first sip, she told me the truth. She revealed that she wasn’t taking the Science Worldview class. I asked her why commit fraud in a class she wasn’t a part of, and what she said next froze me to my core. She did it because she had feelings for me, affectionate ones. I nearly choked on my coffee, which was something I never experienced. I always made sure to drink at a slow, steady pace to avoid that very thing. She was insistent that I allowed her to finish before I said anything further. She admitted that she felt affection towards me since the previous semester. According to her, she wanted to ask me out for months, but she could never get my attention because I was buried in my studies. She apologized profusely for her deception, and begged for my understanding. That was just the problem, I couldn’t understand. I asked her what she could possibly see that made her fall for a guy like me. She blushed and avoided making eye contact. Apparently she found my maturity attractive. She said that I acted like an eighty year-old man in a twenty-year-old’s body. I did pride myself on controlling my mannerisms and that I did not partake in idiotic frivolities. She then went on saying how I was kind to people in need. At this point, I had no idea what she was referring to, so I asked her to provide some examples. She giggled and complimented me for being so modest, only for her to gasp seconds later when she realized I was being in earnest. Without wasting another second, she went into a few examples. She brought up the one time I gave a sophomore a few nickels so he could use the vending machine in the library. She brought up multiple occasions where I held the door for both classmates and faculty members alike. Finally, her last example was how I ran a service proofreading student papers. Once she was finished, I responded by saying that all of the things she mentioned were of no consequence to me. I gave the sophomore spare change because he gave me his word to pay me back, which he did. Next, I was taught it was a common courtesy to open the door for others. And last but not least, my editing service was far from charity, I didn’t offer my service for free after all. But none of that mattered to her. She claimed that I had a positive impact on everyone around me, and that was something to be admired. I sat there completely baffled. I never had a conversation like this before with anyone. I thanked her for her flattery before telling her that I could not pursue a relationship at the moment. I had my studies to worry about. There was no room for friendships or romance when I had tests and assignments due every week. She looked devastated, but she accepted my answer with grace and understanding. She offered me her phone number, just in case I got second thoughts, but I refused. I said there was no need since I could send an email or look up her number in the student directory. In a way, I felt sorry for her as she wiped a tear from her eye, but there was nothing more to say. I thanked her for the coffee, wished her luck and left, not even taking a moment to give her a second glance. I’m writing all this down now because I’ve started to experience something I’ve never felt before. For some reason my mind keeps going back to that cafe, and I’m noticing things about her I didn’t pick up during the initial encounter. The first thing I remember clearly was her giggle, how it was short and soft, unlike the loud and obnoxious variety that poured out of the mouths of the airheaded girls that wander the college’s grounds. Second, even though her plan failed, I appreciated how intricate it was and how much courage she had to have in order to pull it off. Finally, I respected her attempt to show a side of myself I didn’t think possible. I guess from a certain point of view, I was actually a helping hand by showing kindness to strangers. No one has made me aware of this, and no one has since. I could go on, but those were the three that stood out to me. I know I might sound paranoid, but I think I’ve grown quite fond of her. I’m tempted to contact her and see if these feelings are real or just in my head. But for now I must get back to my studies. Perhaps I’ll contact her once I’m not so busy. We’ll see. END JOURNAL ENTRY