I got a marriage proposal this week.

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Neat, huh?

Yeah, NOPE.

Because it was from the guy in my French class who keeps asking the professor what he can to do get rid of the stretch marks on his inner thighs.

He also gets up in the middle of class, loudly announces he has to pee, and then leaves.

The kid who sits in front of him is going to snap one day because stretch mark guy will reach up out of nowhere and start rubbing the other guy's back.

Stretch mark kid also told me that I need to change my name to Chastity.

And then asked me to marry him.

I thought he was joking because, you know, who does that? So I was all, "Ha ha ha," but he just looked at me, completely serious, and went, "No, really."

I still thought he was joking, so I offered him another half-hearted "Ha ha ha."

He deadpanned, "I mean it."

I just started at him because what the heck am I supposed to say to something like that?

I went, "Um. No, thank you."

He keeps staring at me. The entire class period. He sits and STARES at me and I can feel his eyes boring into my face, which is a remarkable feat in and of itself because his eyes are permanently fixed in two different directions.

The more I get out there, the more I'm starting to realize that I'm flypaper for socially-inept man children.

So I've decided I'm going to play a game next class.

It's called, "I've got pepper spray in my purse and if you ask me to marry you one more time, you're going to get a face full of pain, brother."

And this is why I will die surrounded by books and cats.

Thug life.


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