Hipster Love

Eric and I are both Algonquin students. He’s full-time in the Museum Studies program (which, from his description, is as edifying as library school). I’m part-time, taking computer courses. The first time we met in person was at the Observatory for a coffee. It was our first date, sort of.

Nearly every Monday since then, he would trek in to meet me at 4:30. No matter that I work 6 blocks from his house and we could easily have had coffee downtown. We both liked meeting there, being the old people in a room full of teenagers. I loved the days I could spot him before he spotted me and watch him for a moment - being himself to himself.

We chatted, read the Algonquin paper together, went over our days. We snuggled on the curved couches if we managed to score one, or cast longing looks over the very very wide square tables if we didn’t

I would watch the clock on my iPod, then he’d walk me through the Gonk maze to my class in the swank Tech building.

We had this chat along the way one Monday:

“So I guess we’re college sweethearts.”
“Indeed.” I took his hand. “Does that mean you’re going to pin me?”
“Yeah, to your bed.”
“Right answer.”

He looked down at his pants. At the watch pocket.

“Or how ‘bout this Weapons of Mass Seduction pin. I’ve got an extra one at home.”
“Oh, yeah, we should definitely have matching 1” band buttons.”