So, there's this tutor at my university I kind of have a crush on. He teaches the 19th-century module, he's probably in his late thirties, and he's Scottish. For this last reason he will be called The Kilt (he wears trousers in real life, don't worry).
The Kilt is not remarkably handsome, clever (actually, he is very clever because he teaches the course of no comprehension, so forget I said that) or funny, but still, for some strange reason I quite fancy him. One of my friends, Catwoman, pointed out to me that I have a crush on him a few weeks ago and ever since Mr G and I broke up I have decided to just let the crush take over. I joke and sort of flirt with him and my goal is to make him blush in class (without embarrassing myself), which I haven't managed as yet.
Today I was going for a big lunch before the start of classes, on my own, and as I was waiting to be served, The Kilt came up to me to say hi and order his own food. As he was on his own and I had to ask him a question about my essay, I invited him to have lunch with me. We chatted (and ate, of course) for about half an hour, talking about my essay (a little), my old uni (quite a lot) and a tutor from that uni who's a friend of The Kilt's. He then left to do some marking, and I left to get some tea before class started.
When Catwoman found out, she could hardly contain herself. After Theory, which is the last class of the evening and ends at 8, we went to a pub quiz together, and during the walk there I was interrogated about the date, as Catwoman and another woman from the course soon called it. When we got to the pub, I was engaged to be married to The Kilt, and on the way home from the pub, I was pregnant with his babies.
I just hope he'll wear a kilt at the wedding, and that he's prepared to learn Dutch!