I was just thinking of a boy I met in Zoology Class.

I was at Cerritos Community College, in my second year of General Ed. This meant it was time to get around to that science-type class I’d been putting off taking.

Of all the bullshit in the catalog, Zoology sounded like the most likely to not mean an average grade for a straight A overachiever like me. I always had a problem with math and science courses. Something about numbers and formulas doesn’t click in my head. For the same reason I’m unable to remember names, dates, and useful facts, the methods needed to master these subjects were lost to me. I much preferred and excelled in courses where grades were determined by term papers I could bullshit my way through, as opposed to tests that were comprised of numbers, with scantron answer sheets, whose letters corresponded to answers filled with more numbers.

Zoology seemed like a good compromise. I’d have to learn some terminology, some facts about the workings of a body. But it would be a neat animal body! I signed up. But I learned a lot more than what I'd signed up for.

The first day of class, as usual, I was sizing up the pool of males. Of course, it’s not really worth setting your sights on someone until after the second week, when most anyone who intends to drop the class has dropped it. There's nothing more disappointing than devoting your semester crush to someone during the first few sessions, only to have them stop showing up because they made it into that Psych course they were petitioning.

Despite my efforts to exercise a little self-control, one of my classmates immediately caught my attention and gave me that tingly feel. You know the one. The naughty one.

He had a shaved head, olive skin, a broad smile (with the tiniest gap between his two front teeth) and wore Buddy Holly glasses. A slight but muscular figure, he towered over me at close to six feet. I loved that he always wore Converse, and button-up shirts through which I could tell he had on a white cotton undershirt. I don’t know why, but men wearing undershirts have always been a huge turn-on to me. He was a drummer in a punk band. His arms were toned and firm as a result. And he rode a skateboard to class.

I managed to strategically place myself so that the next time we were asked to break up into groups, I could casually turn to him and act as if we would just have to team up because I was right here. Not because I WANTED to team up with him or anything, but purely a matter of convenience. His name was Tim. I swooned internally. Tim.

Cute boys were the only reason I ever made it to class. If I didn’t find someone to crush on, the semester would be an absolute drag. I’d end up ditching the class, and probably dropping it right before I was out of time to do so without a penalty. It was Tim that made learning about respiratory systems something I looked forward to. Tuesdays and Thursdays were the highlights of my week. I even dressed up. I continued to team with him during class, asking him questions when I was unsure of something. Or even when I wasn’t. Truth be told, he was a great help. An aspiring Marine Biology major, his passion for the subject matter was contagious. When our first exam was announced, Tim offered to be my study buddy.

Oh, yeah.

I gladly accepted the offer, and he was invited to my house the following week for burgers and flash card making.