Valentine’s day

Ten years ago, on February 14th, was the day I first realised my husband was a guy!
I know, that sounds seriously weird. I’ll tell you what I mean. My son will laugh and grim (at the same time) at that one, one day!

I’m a final-year student and for my political communications lecture, the lecturer decides to rub off his bad day on me by assigning me to do a presentation on how presidential campaigns are run in my country. Next lecture, that is – me, running his class. What’s next? Cook for you?

The bitching doesn’t stop there. A few days later while a friend and I are in the library reading corner, discussing the pathetic loser librarian who is snoozing while trying to maintain silence (we were discussing her and giggling), the same lecturer in Political Communications pops out of nowhere and says he wants to talk to me again. Cheery as a kid in a candy store, with a spring in his foot, he swings over my head to tell me that I should also sign up for his next semester class – Mass Media Research. But that’s three months away!!!

“You must!” he insists.

Fine but my friend is coming with me (she hates me for that, of course). Anything else, sir? Shall I also give birth to a couple of kids for you, while you’re at it?

By the end of the school day, my yellow combat boots drag me home to my miserable student apartment where nothing awaits me but a 5 inch TV screen with free Sicilian soaps, only on good weather. And then I get a call. My lecturer. Again? Where on earth did he get my phone from?

“Can we meet up and discuss your presentation for tomorrow?” he says.

I’m still on the first question – about my telephone number – and he is already suggesting time and place. In an hour? Is he serious? At university? Ok, that’s fine.

I slipped back onto my combat boots, semi-destroyed pants, colour – unknown – and sloppy shirt.

I drag my feet back to university and, the moment I see the main gates closed, I realise – the university closes for the public after 6pm. So, where are we supposed to meet then? I see a red old Alfa, the driver – fidgeting with his phone. The driver looks up and recognises me. He comes out and as soon as I get closer, I realise that this is my lecturer. What’s more, I realise this is a guy! There was no suit, no tie, no classroom to create the status, to illusion our senses, to keep the wall thick. This was a tall, very well built, young, blue-eyed, charming (gorgeous – but I never told him), looking dude.

Anyhow, he takes me to a cafe.

He strikes: “What sign are you”?
“None of your business”, I hit.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” He hits back.
“Are we on a date?”, I throw a right punch.
“Yes”, he punches my punch.
“Are you kidding me?”, I lower my guard.
“Wine?” he offers truce.
“Red”. I accept it.
“Happy Valentine’s”, he cheers.
…nock-out – I’m defeated…I thought.

My first date with my husband.

If there’s a lesson for my kids there’s this: if you know what you want, go get it.

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