Getting Asked Out, Law School Style

So I know this guy since the series of Admit Days after our acceptances arrived. He's one of those tragically awkward guys who you would predict would go to law school. He's pretty damn cute, and if it were not for his horrific expression that blares social cluelessness angst, I might even consider him hot. His natural expression of defense is to appear just slightly angry. An attempt at seriousness ;)

I've seen him throughout the orientation and we've exchanged grunts that are the ritual macho "hey."

Turns out he's in my contracts course and today he sat next to me in class. We shot the shit for a couple of moments, nothing special except the weather, orientation gripes, and a few questions about the reading.

After hearing one to many dumb answers to a simple questions about "what do you think contract law is?", when the professor asked who wants to be the first to dive into the material, I raised my hand and having been called upon, I efficiently rattled off the facts of the case. Wheeeewf... no more having to hear some poor soul struggle through a grilling of what are the RELEVANT facts. Upon the asking of the second question, my new almost cute neighbor surprisingly overcomes his serious shyness and answers the professor's question of "What is the law at issue in this case?"

He brilliantly nails the answer in a single sentence without a stutter or the proverbial "Uhmmm...". Yes, overachievers unite to have a class that proceeds smoothly bereft of any dilitante attempts.

At the break, I said to him, "I'm so glad you answered that question." "Why?" he asked. "Cuz I don't think I had the patience to sit through 3 struggles to wrong answers," I said with a slight smirk. He followed me to the restroom. We chatted about the case. He asked me some question, and then I surprisingly knew the answer.

After class, he followed me out. "So what are you upto this long weekend?" he asked. I honestly didn't know where he was going with this train of questioning. You know, I get stuff in the classroom, but outside, I'm the dilitante.

"Studying every minute of it," I said slightly sarcastically. He replied with a skeptical, "Really? I somehow doubt that." I was almost offended. But then brilliant social dorks do have a tendency to be blunt in their honesty.

I didn't respond and I guess he interpretted that to some extent, I was halfway serious. He flipped. "Well," he said with exasperation, "we don't even have that much work to do for the weekend. I mean the readings for..." and yes, he rattled off every single assignment and describes their contents and how they were not that hard. But who's reading ahead, right?

"Soo...." he began again, "what are you doing this weekend?" Shit. I don't fucken know. Between the gym and the books, I don't get much time to myself. I felt uncomfortable. Why was this guy grilling me????

He kept looking at me as we walked through the front courtyard of the school. "Uhhhhhmmmm....," I struggled for a half-assed answer that would satiate whatever perverse curiosity lay behind him. "Well, I do have to still buy stuff for my apartment. I'm not quite done fixing it up." You know, in retrospect, that was a perfect line.

"Oh!" he said suddenly befuddled, "of course. Right... right..."

"Aaaaaand," I said lowering my voice simultaneously, "I guess I might go out, though I am trying to be a dork this year."

"Clearly," he said. Ouch. Yea, smart, honest, and awkward, oh my.

"Well, you might have picked a law school that was not in one of the biggest cities in the country if that's what you really wanted to do," he said.

"True," I responded.

"Well, I intend to have a life this year," he said triumphantly. "Good for you," I said affirmatively, "I will too, eventually."

"When?" he said with a smirk, "when you're clocking 100 hours a week?" Then he waived as he walked off.

About ten minutes later on the walk to my apartment, I realized, Oh my gawd, did he want to go out with me this weekend???? And then I remembered--I had seen him at an LGBT dinner during one of the admit weekends. Damn. I had forgotten.

There's more to tell... but I'll write more later.