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The first day of class you strut in without a care, because you're already *SO DONE.*
And you just want people to leave you alone so you can get through another boring-ass lecture. You're just too fab. AMIRITE???
But then the professor walks in and you're like...
ALERT THE PENTAGON, BECAUSE HE IS HOT.
And all you can think is...
GOD IS REAL AND I BELIEVE IN EDUCATION AND WHAT CLASS IS THIS BECAUSE I THINK I NEED TUTORING.
First, you try to show him your supermodel side. Wha??? How did that industrial-grade fan get there and why is it blowing through my naturally super great and glossy hair?
You decide to drop him a hint or two - you know, flirt a little. BUT BE COY ABOUT IT.
When that doesn't work, you try to impress him by saying something intelligent in class.
Then you try to show him just how emotionally deep and philosophical you are.
But when you try to talk, it comes out all jumbled and you sound like a drunk freshman at a frat party. #slay #callmymom
So you give him an ultimatum, LOVE ME OR DON'T JUST STOP TOYING WITH MY EMOTIONS.
And then you realize he has no idea who you are and calls you Lauren when your name is Emily.
Sorry, girl. Stay in school.
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