Here’s to You, Professor Robinson

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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?

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