Are We In Love Or Did You Just Hold Every Door For Me Between O’Neill 3 And The Plex?
It was just like any other Thursday morning when I saw you. Dr. Douglas Comeau had summoned the both of us down to check if we had the 2019-novel Coronavirus (2019-nCoV) in our system. But why us? Why now? Was it BC hoping to avoid another scandal in the Globe? Was it God, looking down from the heavens, knowing that we were meant to be? Was Dr. Doug just sincerely concerned about my well-being? There’s really no way to be sure, but what I do know, is that it led me to you.
We approached the doors of third floor O’Neill at the same time, both expressively examining the exterior of the godforsaken building. As you grasped the handle, you looked at me, saying with your eyes that you thought the Brutalist architecture of the library was unsightly and out of place amidst the Collegiate Gothic buildings that make up the rest of campus. I agreed, rolling my eyes and softly chuckling before proceeding ahead of you down the staircase. We have so much in common.
In a subtle but telling act, you then made the decision to descend the left-most segment of the stairs, a few paces behind me. Given all the options, you chose me. You’ll always choose me.
The feminist that I am, I took a turn and opened the door for you at the bottom of the stairs. You nodded your head, as if to say “the future is female,” and with the tilt of mine I responded, “grab her by the brain.” We share so many of the same values.
Entering the elevator was a big moment for us. You said “going down?” and I nodded my head. Your rugged finger pressed the “1,” activating its luminescent glow. Just as you lit up the button, you will light up my life.
After a long walk shared in the brisk morning air, you held the door open for me to enter the Plex. My heartrate quickened as I braced for the nose reveal that was upon us. Your sniffer exceeded my wildest expectations, and your good manners toward the nurse confirmed that you were the one for me. You will be the father of my children, the Y chromosome to my X, the lime to my coconut.
As I reflect on this moment we shared together, I’m eager to pursue our future as man and wife. I daydream about the memories we’ll create and the life we’ll build. Yet, I’m left wondering why you haven’t sought me out as Prince Charming did Cinderella. I loudly exclaimed my eagle ID number such that you would hear it and have an opportunity to seek me out, why haven’t I received an email? I continuously refresh the Missed Connections BC account, why haven’t they posted a submission in which you describe me in creepy and vaguely disrespectful detail? Could it be that we aren’t actually in love, and that you just held every door open for me between O’Neill and the Plex, and in my socially deprived pandemic state I created a fantasy based on insufficient evidence? For now, I patiently await your correspondence.