Valentine’s Day Fail, Part 1


Author’s note: Ever wondered what today’s college students are like or whether your college experiences are similar, or different, from others? Well, look no further. This column, known as College Student Insider, focuses on all things college, be that relationships, experiences, or feelings. It looks to fill the void missing from today’s Internet: an Asian-American college student perspective.

Valentine’s Day is coming up. I am, of course, speaking the obvious, but there‚Äôs a problem: I’m single. But there is a female classmate I’m interested in. Or there was. (I don’t know anymore, honestly.)

Here’s the story:

I first saw her sitting in a corner in my geography class, and when I looked at her — excuse me if I don’t know how to explain myself — I felt something: this burning desire to talk to her, to get to know her, and, hopefully, go out with her.

I was, as cheesy as this may sound, interested in her. So I went up to her and introduced myself — enthusiastically.

I don’t remember what I said, but I remember the feeling of talking to her the first time. I was nervous. Like, really nervous.

But as our conversation progressed, which led to our walk to the bus stop (I told her I was walking with her because I had to go to Whole Foods), I felt more and more comfortable around her. This nervous feeling became a thing of the past.

I really enjoyed our brief conversation, and in my mind, I was thinking of a myriad of ways I could ask her out. Perhaps I could ask her to lunch, and then pop the question. Or perhaps I could ask her on a date first and then ask her out. I was brainstorming many scenarios in which I could express, to the fullest extent, my confession.

After all, Valentine’s Day is coming up.

So the next day, after class ended, I was ready. Or at least I felt ready, in retrospect, to tell her my feelings.

“This is it, David,” I said to myself. “This is your chance to shine. Have courage.”

I amped myself up, but when I started looking for her — first looking at the place I saw her the first time, her seat — she was gone.

“Gone,” I muttered, astonished.

“What do I do now…?”

To be continued…

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