Oops.

A few weeks ago, a very hot, indie-looking boy came into my classroom to do observations. I tried to stay professional, ignore his presence, and generally not act like a google-eyed girl with a crush. At the end of the observation, I "encouraged" him to come back to visit my other classes, and he was very enthusiastic about the prospect.

Last week, my department head told me he was coming back, but she did not tell me when.

So what happens this morning? Yep, he walked into my classroom just minutes before the first bell. I felt kind of bad because all I had on the agenda was a quiz and reading. Oh well. I guess it was OK though, because he said he was happy to see how we read and discussed literature. Then during nutrition, we sat in my room and talked. I played it cool (or at least thought I did), as we talked about Paris and teaching and music. Then. He mentioned. His. wife.

I must have looked like a squished tomato when he dropped that reference into the conversation. I felt so incredibly stupid. I have to pay more attention to those ring fingers.

Actually, he told me some crazy stories about his family and his wife's family, and we decided he needed to start writing his first short story collection. Stories of denied alcoholism, bulimia, crashed airplanes, life in a van on Hawaii, all came out as he spoke of the various members of his family. As my eyes grew wide with each new tale, he asked me if I had a normal family. Hardly, I said, but I don't have any ex-marines or scandalous uncles.

In the end, I stayed composed, and he said he wanted to come back again. Yay. I have a new friend, which is always good. Seriously, it's good. I hope to meet his wife too, she seems like a cool chick from his descriptions.

The whole thing made me realize how easily I jump at people who have the right look. If he had been clean cut, wearing a plaid, button down abercrombie shirt and khakis, I probably would not have given him a second look. And how superficial is that?

A while ago, I was having a conversation with a friend, we'll call him Toilet Paper, and he gave me some great advice. 'Amy,' he said. 'I think you and I fall into traps. We go after people in the scene, because we think, based on their look, that they will be what we expect them to be. You need to stop looking for people in the scene to date.'

And he is completely right. It's just really hard. The people in the 'scene' often like the same music as I do, read the same books I like, and are generally liberal. But they can also be very shallow, or just not the right person for me. So why force it? Boy #2 is so indie (whatever that means), it is almost painful. He is tragic, always tragic. He's a musician and an artist and reads like a fiend. But I still haven't heard from him, so he is over, gone, done.

Maybe this time for good.