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By Adina Bernstein


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            My name is Jimmy and I know who my perfect girl is. Her name is Samantha and her friends call her Sammy. How do I know that? I love her from afar. We enrolled in the same Literature class last fall.  She walked in on the first day of class and I thought that she was beautiful. As the semester progressed, I fell in love with her. She is eloquent, intelligent and passionate. I can see us in ten years happily married with two children. Sounds perfect, right? But it’s not, because of one major problem. She doesn’t know that I exist.

            Samantha and I run in different social circles.  I am what you would call studious and quiet, while Samantha is the opposite. Plus, we have never really talked. Oh yeah, we did once. In Literature last year; she asked me if I knew the time because there was no clock in the room. I told her the time, she thanked me, and then she turned around. After class I gathered up the nerve to talk to her, but she disappeared in the crowd.

Last night, out of sheer boredom because I finished reading Dante’s Inferno for the third time, I went to Banna’s, a local bar. Samantha was there with her friends. Through the crowd, noise and smoke, I recognized her.  I grabbed a beer to boost my confidence as I made my way through the crowd. My mind was unraveling with ways to open the conversation. “Sup, sweet thing?” No, that was not right. “Hi, my name is Jimmy”. No, that wasn’t right either. Finally I settled on the right one.

            “Read any good books lately?” I asked as I stood behind her. “I have, actually. I just finished reading the newest Stephen King novel,” Samantha replied. “Really, I just got it. My name is Jimmy,” I told her. “It’s nice to meet you, Jimmy. My name is Samantha,” she said as we shook hands. “Sammy, he is a geek, the Beta Gamma guys just got here,” her friend who was obviously drunk said.

“Jess, you want one, go get one,” Samantha told her friend. We walked and found an area that we could talk and not have to yell or repeat ourselves.  Next thing I knew; it was 12:30. I had to get home because I had work in the morning. I didn’t want to go, but I need to pay my rent. I thanked her for her time and got up. “Jimmy, wait!” She called to me and handed me a paper with her phone number on it. “Call me sometime” she said as she walked away.