We could've fucked, but you got hit by a car - w4m
All of your bumbling characteristics were so endearing; every time you stammered or spaced out during discussions, every time you got chalk all over the front of your shirt and didn't notice, every time you dropped your cell phone or spilled papers and then knocked over more things as you bent over to try and pick up the aforementioned papers. Once, you were wearing two pairs of socks. You were the worst dresser ever! You're so skinny but you wear XL button down shirts and roll up your sleeves so that it creates a puffy pirate effect. And you'd always tuck your ridiculously oversized shirt in your pants, topping the ensemble with high top Chuck Taylors. You always wore that blue baseball hat and would stick pens in your hat. Then you'd forget about them and look very startled when they clattered to the ground as you took off your hat. You absentmindedly would tuck two cigarettes behind your ear sometimes. And with every clumsy move, I melted a little more.
I was about to ask you out. I had been patiently waiting until the end of the quarter so that it would not violate the student-T.A. relationship. I had readied myself for rejection because you never really quite learned my name even though we'd had a couple of short, awkward conversations and I was a talker during class. Sure, you knew me by face, but my heart sank each time you asked me my name (4 times!!).
The end of the quarter was drawing nearer and I was determined to have that closure. Let's go for coffee or a drink sometime, how easy is that? But you got hit by a car. That's right, you were hit by a car while on your bike and had a concussion. And that fucker didn't even stop to make sure you weren't dead or to make sure that some poor girl wasn't pining over you while studiously doing her sociology reading. That fucker didn't stop to make sure that he was not ruining the Greatest Love that Never Was.
You came back a few days later, but passed out during lecture. And then the professor announced that you were not doing well and will not be returning. EVER. Your loan check had been stolen earlier that week, too. It just wasn't your week.
Well, my constantly disoriented TA, we could've fucked. In your cubicle between office hours, at my place where I could've made you breakfast before you rushed off to teach another section, really anywhere if you hadn't been hit by a car. And during all that wonderful fucking, we could've developed a nice relationship. We could've sucked down our nicotine together while discussing the logistics of tearooms and the ramifications of highly visible tattoos. We could've watched mafia movies on lazy weekends (because in my mind, you love the Godfather as much as I do) and incessantly made fun of that dumb bitchy sorority girl from our section that every hated. We could've been meant for each other and become one of those couples who have farting contests.
But you got hit by a car and last I heard, you took a leave of absence from school and was back with your parents. If you are not dead, I would love to go get a drink with you.