I decided to write to you after reading Horny Anglophile’s letter in the November 21 issue of The University Register. His boldness has given me the courage to admit my obsession and to plead for your help. Like Horny Anglophile, I am an anglophile who is horny and obsessed with my TA. Unlike H.A., I do not desire our Gap-shopping, movie-loving TA; rather, my desire, and therefore my obsession, belong to Gap-boy’s co-worker and fellow TA.
My obsession is such that I do not merely fantasize daily about my TA, but I have also made many sacrifices for her. For example, I study. I sacrifice my valuable Tuesday evening television viewing so that I can be prepared to discuss (and impress) on Wednesday/group day. (Unfortunately, whenever my TA joins my group’s discussion, I become too preoccupied to form a coherent thought, much less to discuss the illuminating function of a psychoanalytic reading of Hamlet..) I have also begun to spend all of my spare time in TMC (in one of those booths behind the plants), waiting to spy an enormous green bookbag bringing my TA in for a bit of studying.
My desire has reached such a state of obsessiveness that I have even sacrificed Willie’s for Budig’s, finding it extremely erotic to know that only a wall separates me from what may be her bedchamber. As you can see, I have a serious problem, and the advice you gave H.A. won’t suffice; I already belong to several student oranizations and can’t afford to travel. I know that you believe that a relationship between a TA and a student is inappropriate, but what happens when fall quarter ends and she is no longer my TA? I know she will still be out of my “league”, but I cannot stop wondering: ‘Was ever a woman in this situation wooed?’ ‘Was ever a woman in this situation won?’ ‘Do I dare?’ and ‘How should I begin?’ I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed. I need your help, Reid!
J. Richard Prufrock III
I know how you feel. To desire someone that you seemingly have no chance with is a very tormentuous affair. I’ve been in this situation many a time, and in fact am currently suffering through a similar dilemma. Fortunately, due to the delay between your sending of this letter and its time of publication, your problem is easily solved. Fall quarter is over, go for it.
So, enough about you; let’s get back to me. I am in a state of utter confusion. While the object of my infatuation is not a Teaching Assistant, she is someone whom I encounter frequently in one of my classes. Every time I’m sure that I have to move on, that it’s time to look elsewhere, something happens that makes me say, “Well, maybe…” in a wishful tone of voice.
As you know, Constant Reader, while I may come off as an expert in the affairs of the heart (I do have some damn good ideas, don’t I?), and while I do know all the moves (that yawning thing in the movie theater–a winner every time), and while I do have the best portfolio of pick-up lines in seven counties (See that girl over there? She said that you think I’m cute), and while I am blessed dashing good looks (okay, now I’m exaggerating), I lack one simple thing: guts. I absolutely suck at asking the fairer sex out on dates. In my mind I go through the motions a million times, but when I’m actually with that secret someone, it’s small talk all the way. Man, I would like it so much better if it was the ladies who asked out the men… blast society’s ways.
This week, I have a plea to you, Constant Reader. As Valentine’s Day approaches – somehow misconstrued in American society as a day for sweethearts rather than friends – and as those dateless dorks among us (I am included in this grouping) will be home alone, sucking down Surge and flipping past the commercials for FTD and Jerry Maguire, The University Register will be tabling for our annual Lovelines feature. Send Lovelines. Send lots of Lovelines. Send lots of Lovelines to me. (P.S.: this plea has nothing whatsoever to do with the running contest among UR staffers to see who gets the most Lovelines.)