What is it about professors?

Usually, I’m not the kind of girl to find much older men attractive. I guess I just like ‘em bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. I know it’s perfectly normal, and even expected, for women to date older men, but I don’t see the appeal of it. I’ll take Zac Efron over George Clooney any day of the week.

I just don’t get it when my friends talk about how hot George Clooney is. Isn’t he, like, 50? I mean, come on. His skin is so leathery I can almost smell it. And when Monica dated Richard on Friends, I cringed every time they kissed. Mostly because Tom Selleck looks like my Uncle Dennis, but still. Am I really supposed to find the bushy mustache sexy?

But then all that changed a couple months ago as I sat taking notes in class…

Maybe it’s his bifocals. Maybe it’s his silver hoop earring, or his penny loafers, or the fact that he bears a striking resemblance to Benjamin Bratt (with wrinkles and gray hair). But I’ve got a serious thing for my over-the-hill film professor. It doesn’t help that his name is Mark Robinson, which has inspired more than a handful of before-bed daydreams featuring myself murmuring the phrase, “Are you trying to seduce me, Professor Robinson?” as he slowly reveals his argyle knee socks.

The way he lectures is just so…passionate. I have honestly learned more in his class than I have in any other one this semester, and it’s not just because I show up to every class and hang on his every word.

The class meets every Tuesday night from 6:00 to 10:00. First we (passionately) discuss readings, and then we watch a film together. So in my deranged and perhaps delusional mind, Professor Robinson and I  have already been on several dates. What? … He turns off the lights, and he sits in the row RIGHT next to me! It counts. It does.

Shut up.

I’m not the type to flirt with professors (young or old) simply because I’m paranoid they will assume I’m trying to suck up for a good grade, so I just hide my love away while other girls talk to him. Although on the last exam, I dotted the ‘i’ in my last name with a heart. Hopefully he’ll get the hint and ask me out. Then we’ll spend an evening caught up in intellectual conversation and laughing about the younger, less civilized college boys in my class as I run my hands through his thinning gray hair.

Until then, though, I’ll be sitting front row at the showing of my imagination’s production of The Undergraduate, starring myself and the Silver Fox. I can’t help it; I’ve fallen head over the hill for this guy.

I know you guys have sexy professors. Are any of you as hopelessly in love as I am?

If so, we need your help!

CollegeCandy is teaming up with Lemondrop to find the hottest professors in the country. Yeah, yeah – they may be a rare breed, but we know there are a few out there!

If you know of any drool-worthy professors, leave us a comment with the professor’s name and school. And if you have a picture (either from your school’s site or if you can sneakily snap one during class), send it to the editors: lauren@collegecandy.com.

We can’t wait to see what you’ve got.

(Note: we make no promises regarding the use of these pictures for our own personal drool-session.)

Don’t get me wrong– I like being single. I’m pretty independent. I can still study and interact with other humans. I function. But when it comes to the menfolk, I get easily distracted. And attempting to stay celibate in college is like asking Whitney Houston to get clean in a crack house. So, thinking that the best offense is a good defense, I’m using a plethora of methods to stay on track and focused.

These are the ones that didn’t work.

Fattening Food I started eating pizza every day. Like, a lot of pizza. There’s this place down the street from my house that serves whole pies for five dollars. (I get the “Oahu,” which is just fancy-pants for Hawaiian. Eating an entire pie in less than three minutes almost helps you forget you’re totally pathetic.) And the first few days I was feeling all blob-like and disgusting, but that’s actually passed. Because after a few weeks I’ve plumped up a bit, and now my skin glows (read: has a greasy sheen) from the extra calories. It kind of makes me want to have a baby. Which is bad. Bad, bad, bad.

Doogie Howser, M.D. Initially, I thought using viewings of Doogie Howser, M.D. on Hulu to stop thinking about dating was a great idea. I mean, the Doogster’s like the definition of innocence and purity. I was so, so wrong. Doogie Howser is really freaking earnest and adorable, and also kind of good looking in an (obviously) boyish way. I don’t care that he’s sixteen, or that our fictional relationship is very, very illegal. I want to be his date to the junior prom, and then I want him to give me an emergency appendectomy. And then I want to scrub myself with a wire brush for being such a perv.

Office Hours “Hey, Dr. McQueen. Can we talk about the upcoming exam for a little bit?” This is how it starts. This is how it ALWAYS starts. Because cute professors are still fun, but they’re off-limits. It’s like having only a bite of a chocolate bar — not harmful, and just enough to hold you over. And then you’re drinking too much and feeling a little restless, and then you’re leaving voicemails on Dr. McQueen’s work extension where you slur, “I’m not wearing any panties,” and then his wife is all “Who is this girl?” and then you’re having meetings with the Dean of Students, and then you’re forced to drop out of British Modern Lit because of the restraining order. It’s all very exhausting.

Knitting I saw this on Grey’s Anatomy. I think somewhere in the second (third?) season, Meredith uses knitting to distract herself from the fact that she can’t keep off McDreamy and every other random dude at Joe’s Bar. Her routine lasts maybe five minutes before she drops the yarn in favor of some loving. I should have learned from her mistakes. This is mostly because knitting is one of those things that only really cool artsy girls do (which I am not), and also because knitting needles are clearly phallic, and therefore unconsciously distracting. Knitting is also super boring. Mer didn’t stand a chance, and nor did I.

New ideas to help me stay off dudes this for this week: buying a cat, raking leaves, learning to juggle. We’ll see which ones work. Wish me luck.