There was this one girl, in my 2nd year 19th Century literature course, who knocked my socks off. Her name was Roisin (Row-sheen). At first, Roisin was easy to miss in a crowd. She didn’t dress slutty and she didn’t wear make-up but once I spotted her in amongst the Eruro-trash and Ameri-sluts I went to school with, my heart was in lock-down mode.
I remember for the first few weeks in our class together, Roisin would never sit at the same desk twice. Each week I would watch as the different guys she sat near would try and make time with her. The skaters, the punks, the metal-heads, the pot-heads, the slackers, the yuppies, the jocks - everyone wanted to get down with Roisin. I’d watch from the back corner of the lecture hall as the boys made their play for her, but Roisin wasn’t having any of it. She was all business. For the most part she’d ignore whatever advances the guys made and then during break or for the next class she would just change seats. I even remember one time thinking "Oh snap, that was cold", as she changed seats right in the middle of the professor's lecture as some neo-conservative Tucker Carlson looking fag tried to pick her up. Some people were making the arguement that Roisin was kind of a bitch, and maybe she was, but I didn't care cuz she was fucking puuurty.
One morning I arrived a little early for my 19 Century Literature course. I was still a little drunk from the night before so as I made my way to the upper far corner desk and put my head down I was hoping the professor wouldn't notice or wouldn't care that I was on the verge of dying of alcohol poisoning. I closed my eyes and I must have fallen asleep because the next time I opened them everyone was packing up their belongings and getting ready to leave.
"Did I miss anything?" I said half-jokingly.
"Na, not really". I heard someone answer beside me.
I turned to see who it was and I couldn't believe my eyes. It was Roisin. She had sat beside me during the entire lecture while I was asleep. "Quick", I thought, "say something clever or witty or charming that'll make her instantly fall in love with you". I mentally went over my repetoire of fool-proof pick up lines:
"I'm a little hungry. Wanna go for oral?"
"Are you Jamaican? Cuz jamaican' me horny."
"Baby girl, your father must be a thief cuz he stole the stars and placed them in your eyes. Lets bone".
"Sweetness, you must be the fastest thief alive because you stole my heart the second I saw you. Lets bone".
"Honey, lets bone".
Ding ding ding ding ding!!! We have a winner. Alright, Hootch, no use beating around the bush. You know what you're after and she probably wants the same thing. So hit her with that magical one-sylable pick up line that all women find irresistible and prepare yourself for a night of unparalled debauchery.
I turned and faced Roisin. But aww man, as soon as she turned to face me, I was lost. She had set my eyes on fire. That imagine of her looking at me was permanently burning itself into my mind. I stood there frozen. For a second there I even thought I had forgot how to breathe.
"See ya" She said and turned around to leave.
"Mmppffffll" I said back trying to force some sort of meaningful response.
Crash and burn.
For that entire week I was as misable a bastard as there ever was. God had given me this one opportunity to make nice with Roisin and I was too busy sleeping off the vodka and 7s from the night before. I was dreading going back to 19th century literature. I knew seeing Roisin sit beside any other douchebag, besides me, would be tough to endure.
I sat down in my seat in the upper corner of the lecture hall and started flipping through the book I was supposed to have read for the class. It was some bullshit by Honore de Balzac. As I was trying to figure out what the fuck the book was about I was greeted by the person who was pulling up a seat beside me.
I turned around to see who it was.
It was Roisin.
Next: Part II of Roisin, Roisin the melting of the Irish Ice Queen