Oh how the utter bliss from classes seems to have faded since the transition online!
No, I’m not talking about the increased difficulty in communication, nor am I talking about the increased workloads and expectations piled on by my professors in the wake of a global pandemic. I’m not even talking about the constant devitalizing anxiety plaguing me day after day that this may be our new reality for the indefinite future.
I’m just left yearning for the joy brought on by finding love at first sight within Saywell’s walls.
No longer do I feel the thrill of meeting eyes with the hottest member of my class, hopelessly pining after the mysterious, unattainable scholar despite not knowing the first thing about them. Why do I even bother looking good for class anymore? My love life is as hopeless as the prospect of having an eventful 2020.
Or so I thought. Then, it happened. On the first day of my class, I locked eyes with them.
I could hardly believe my luck! How was it possible for someone to be that perfect? I urgently click off of gallery mode and fill my screen with their face carved by the Zoom gods. I have no hope focusing on my prof’s words at a time like this.
And I just know they feel the same way.
I can feel our heartbeats synchronize as our eyes meet pixel by pixel. I can feel it through each breath they take, through each nod of acknowledgment to the lecture material neither of us care about, each adjustment to their AirPods. I watch obsessively each time they turn a page, each time their adorable nose scrunches up at a tricky topic. I drink it all up like a nitro cold brew before an 8:30 lecture.
I sigh wistfully each time we end a lecture, longing to see my Zoom muse once more.
I pine endlessly for them. I get ready each morning for them. Each smile and each bat of the eyelash I dedicate solely to them.
Today, however, I search for their beautiful face in gallery mode and come up empty.
I wail! I cry! How ever will I find true love now?
Oh.I turn on my webcam, and there I am in all my glory. I admire my jawline, each perfected curl, and I smile. My true love.
