Opinion: I Need to Ask You Out to Lunch

It was the first day of class when I saw you, there at the front and center of the classroom like you were a star. Even from the back row, behind my foggy sunglasses and the glare of my laptop screen, I was sure that your eyes glistened like a constellation on a clear night. It was clear to me that they would be my guide on a dark, foggy evening.

You were talkative, yet you never interrupted the class. Confidence oozed from every fiber of your flawless being, and you were always dressed for success, your grand body fitting snugly into your varied gray pantsuits. Each word you spoke invoked awe in my soul unlike anything I had felt prior; so much so that my laptop closed and my sunglasses came off the moment I saw you. You had my undivided attention.

As the days marched on, I watched and admired you from my seat each Monday and Wednesday morning at 8:30. I longed for your words to fall only on me, but admiration had spread far from just myself. Each day I would grip my pencil, hoping to hear you say something that I could understand, but your word was far too complicated for someone like myself to comprehend.

And each day as we filtered out through the door to the lecture hall, I would see you surrounded by my peers. Had they been absent, I can only imagine the wondrous things that you could tell me. On my own, it would take me years to build up the courage to even say a single word to you. The thought of my name crossing your sacred lips was too much for my poor heart to bear. You probably didn’t even know who I was; and if you did, I was surely just a faceless boy no different from the rest of the crowd.

I was starstruck by you. Your youthful skin adorning a mature, wise, well-spoken being. My peers wait with bated breath, yearning for your next action, word, and thought. You are a natural leader, with the beauty and charisma to match. You could tell a joke and be the joke, laughing all the way through and never without a smile on your beautiful face. In short: you were perfect.

My mentors gave me fantastic advice: a mutual visit to a local eatery would be the perfect way to break the ice. I approached you after class today. My lip quivered as I looked you in the eye up close for the first time. I think the world stopped for a while as I let myself drown in your gaze, and I could feel the sweat collecting in the creases of my palms. I think you said something to me, but I was frozen; like Medusa, you had turned me to stone. I knew I had to say something, so I coughed the butterflies from my throat, took a deep breath, and this is what I said:

“Hey professor, for my U101 class, I have to take one of my professors out to lunch. Would you be available to grab a bite to eat somewhere this week? Really? That’s awesome, I’ll get some meal vouchers. See you then!”