what sandra thinks

Dear Diary,

His name is Ethan.

I should probably stop calling him Mr. Hottie. If I don’t, I might slip and call him that to his face. That would be humiliating.

I’m fucking twenty years old… I’m not a child anymore. But when I’m sitting in Chem beside Mr. Hottie… oops, I mean Ethan, I feel like I’m thirteen years old again. It’s almost impossible for me to keep from blushing and getting all giggly when he talks to me. Especially with that voice. Even when he whispers it’s sexy as hell. Maybe especially when he whispers. And when he says my name. And when he says chemistry things. Or when he says… anything. God, I need to stop. Fuck… he probably has a girlfriend.

But it’s not just his voice… or his whispers. It’s just him. He’s so sweet. And he’s funny. He makes the same stupid kinds of jokes I make. I love that. We got in a little bit of trouble because of it this morning. He was drawing faces in his notebook during class while Professor Doctor Strange was talking. I think he was bored. But he was adorable… and the expressions on his little faces were funny. And I kind of let a little laugh slip out. And so did he. And we got caught.

Oops.

Totally worth it, though.

• • •
‘Dear Diary’ is fiction based on actual events.
Any similarities to your college life is purely coincidental.
Any similarities to mine is entirely intentional.

©2018 what sandra thinks

Dear Diary,

Tonight we had our first official dorm meeting. Snacks always make it easier to get everyone to show up for these meetings, and being the perfect residents that we are, Randy and I volunteered to go out for donuts.

Randy drives this awesome little old green MG. It’s so much fun riding in that car. I haven’t been able to convince him to let me drive it, though. I think his love for that car is bordering on unhealthy.

Speaking of unhealthy… those donuts were really good. And while eating one, I realized something.

My living situation is way better than I thought it was going to be. Turns out that Randy living next door again is awesome. I don’t think I fully appreciated how good of a friend he’s become.

And the girls… well, at first I thought it sucked that Hannah and Jules weren’t living in my dorm this year, but I think it’s better this way. Well… better without Hannah and the drama she creates… intentionally. She has that irritating center-of-attention thing. If everything isn’t about her, she tries to make it about her. As I sat in the meeting half-listening to head-resident Peter talk about rules and restrictions and other things I already knew, I could imagine every point at which Hannah would have spoken up so everyone would notice her. And I knew just how annoying it would have been.

Hell, I don’t even know why I’m friends with her. She’s kind of a bitch. And kind of a slut. No, not ‘kind of’. She is a slut. And oh God… I just realized that I cannot let her meet Mr. Hottie! She’ll be all over him.

Seriously. Why am I friends with her?

• • •
‘Dear Diary’ is fiction based on actual events.
Any similarities to your college life is purely coincidental.
Any similarities to mine is entirely intentional.

©2018 what sandra thinks

Dear Diary,

I’ve decided that Chemistry is my favorite class. I’ve always been more math than science, but I have a good reason for my newfound love of Chemistry. A few good reasons…

Reason #1: Chem is at 11 am. So I’m actually awake for it.

Reason #2: Professor Doctor Strange is awesome. Of course that’s not his real name. He’s really Dr. Davis… but he has a sexy accent and totally reminds me of Doctor Strange. So I’ve christened him thusly.

Reason #3: I was a few minutes late to the first class (yeah… I suck) so I didn’t get a lab partner. Stupid odd number of students in the class. Dr. Strange said he’d have to be my partner. I was totally fine with that… although I should not be having impure thoughts about my professor. But I’m not going to stop. Fuck… I hope I pass the class! Failing would be embarrassing. Especially with my professor partner.

Reason #4: I lost sexy-accent-professor as my lab partner. That’s not the good part of this reason. This is: We have an even number of students in the class now. Someone transferred in. So I got him for my partner.

Mr. Hottie. Mr. Hottie!!!

I need to chill the fuck out.

• • •
‘Dear Diary’ is fiction based on actual events.
Any similarities to your college life is purely coincidental.
Any similarities to mine is entirely intentional.

©2018 what sandra thinks

Dear Diary,

What is the fascination with beer pong? Fine… it’s fun. But I always need a designated drinker. I can’t stomach beer. It’s vile. Lucky for me, there are plenty of crazies who volunteer to be my ‘dd’ every time I play. I think they look forward to it. Freaks.

Yeah, I know. I’m the freak. Whatever.

I still haven’t seen Mr. Hottie again. Maybe I imagined him. Maybe I was dreaming. No… that can’t be right. If I dreamt him, things would have gone a lot farther than me trying to be subtle as I stared from four tables away at the Preston dining hall. It would have been more like… me walking right up to him, pulling him up out of his seat by his shirt and kissing him like no kiss he could ever possibly have had before. And he’d kiss back. Then in an instant, the room would go dark. Suddenly, we’d be miraculously alone… which would work out perfectly since he’d rip all my clothes off and take me right there on the table.

Yeah. Only in my dreams. Dammit.

I’m going to assume I did not imagine him. Maybe he’ll volunteer to be my ‘dd’ at the next less-than-legal party. Then he’ll be drunk. And I can have my way with him.

On the beer pong table.

Wait… nooo… that would be gross.

I’ll have my way with him somewhere else.

• • •
‘Dear Diary’ is fiction based on actual events.
Any similarities to your college life is purely coincidental.
Any similarities to mine is entirely intentional.

©2018 what sandra thinks

Dear Diary,

Today was arrival day. I still don’t know why I thought it was a good idea to get my own room. No roommate means no built-in friend. Of course, that can totally backfire. My freshman roommate was a total nightmare. And she smelled kind of funny. Yeah, I’m a bitch. Anyway… I’ll be okay once I have Jules and Hannah back. Why the hell did they have to wait until tomorrow to get here? It’s junior year… we only get to live off our parents and embrace college life for two more years… I don’t want to waste any of it. They need to get here now. I’m bored. Dinner sucked. I ended up eating with Randy. What are the chances that he’d live next door to me again? Apparently, quite good.

It’s not that I don’t like Randy. He’s a good guy. He’s kind of a bad influence with his love for plant life, but he’s a good guy. The problem is… I find his taste in music terrible. When I hear some rapper screaming at me at two o’clock in the morning, I have to get my ass out of bed and bang on our shared wall until he turns it down. At least he does turn it down. We have our own wall-language. I guess it is good that he’s my neighbor. Again. Maybe there’s hope for him.

Oh! I almost forgot. How the hell could I forget this?? I saw a hottie on my way back from dinner. I know… people are going to start calling me boy-crazy again. But I can’t help it. Oh, fuck, I don’t even try. I may never see him again anyway. This is a big campus.

Aaaand… there’s the loud horrible rap music. Gotta pound on the wall.

More later… especially if I find Mr. Hottie.

• • •
‘Dear Diary’ is fiction based on actual events.
Any similarities to your college life is purely coincidental.
Any similarities to mine is entirely intentional.

©2018 what sandra thinks