Having an older sister who is eight years my senior meant I had big dreams about high school. My sister was – and still is – beautiful, popular, athletic, smart and cool. Always with a boyfriend and a perm, she was everything I wanted to be. High school was going to be amazing, because her high school experience was going to be my high school experience.
I’d meet my first real boyfriend. We’d fall in love, talk on the phone, drive around in his car, have sex and breakup before college. I would accomplish this all while attending classes, sporting events and prom. High school was when it was all going to happen for me.
Then I was in high school and I woke up.
I started at a new school my freshman year of high school and, as if that wasn’t hard enough, it was an all-girls Catholic high school. I’m sorry but how was I ever going to meet my boyfriend at an ALL GIRLS CATHOLIC high school. We didn’t even have the cute uniforms. Think poly-blend jumpers sitting at the top of the knee and not super short kilts, a la Britney.
All of my high school dreams were shattered. I would never make out at school, you know, in the secret make out room where my not boyfriend Boyfriend would hide me away from his friends and then publicly declare us a couple once I had finally written him off. My So-Called Life taught me that this was romantic. I now know, it’s mental abuse, and just a real dick thing to do.
I quickly realized that I was screwed and would not be getting screwed anytime soon.
After the sweet, old-as-dirt nuns finished our two-day orientation, I finally got to meet my homeroom and Algebra 1 teacher, Mr. Lorenz.
Forgive me Father; I was hot for teacher.
It was Mr. Lorenzʼs first year teaching and God Bless him all the same. This fine young thing had no idea what he was in for. He was a man of average height, great posture, and confidence exuded off of him. Mr. Lorenz had the most perfect ass I have ever seen a man have. In fact, I had never even noticed a man’s ass until I laid eyes on his fine derriere. Even to this very day, his butt is the butt I measure all boys’ butts against. Like a little perfectly sculpted shelf that thing was. He also had perfectly kept dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, and arms that could probably hold you forever and never get tired.
I knew he knew. He knew that he was crazy hot.
That first day he was nervous and it showed. Actually, he was probably more scared to be standing in a room with twenty 15-year-old girls who were ready to devour him. He would pace back and forth in front of the chalkboard, his brown shoes clicking against the yellow vinyl tiles. He was stuttering and sweating. It was adorable. He sat us alphabetically, which placed me right in front of his desk.
Thank you Jesus.
The year was looking up, since I literally had to look up at Mr. Lorenz every day. I found myself back in his room for Algebra 1. He again sat us in alphabetical order, but started at the other side of the room, putting me as far as humanly possible from his desk.
Obviously he was playing hard to get.
He still paced in front of the board and wrote so hard on the chalkboard that broke about five pieces of chalk every two minutes. He would wipe his chalk-covered hand on his pants. The ass of his pants was always covered in chalk handprints. It was really sexy. I longed for the day when, my hand would be one of those chalky prints.
Don’t get me wrong, I learned a lot during that year. For instance, Mr. Lorenz loved the band Barenaked Ladies, and so did I. We even had tickets to the same concert. Before the show, while the lights were still up in the stadium, we could see the people sitting on the floor level. He was there with a group of his friends and his beautiful petite fiancée. We started screaming, the way only teenage girls can. He looked up and we began waving our arms like crazy, he nodded and waved back. Clearly he wanted to see us while he was off the clock and drinking. He also liked to watch Dawson’s Creek and would talk to us about it the morning after. Mr. Lorenz played lacrosse in college; my sister played lacrosse high school! So, yeah basically, we had a lot of things in common.
One thing I didn’t have in common with him was his passion for math. No thank you. But I still had to pass math in order to become a sophomore, and I was failing. And, so, my mom went to a parent teacher conference; she came home and said “Okay, I get it, he’s really handsome, but you have to start seeing him after school to get your grades up.” My mother kept referencing how cute he was even the next morning. I mean, enough. Thank you. I ended up passing math that year with the help of Mr. Lorenz’s after school study sessions.
That summer, I went on a school trip to Ireland and England with a few girls and Mr. Lorenz was our chaperone.
Someone had been listening to my prayers during homeroom.
Everyone knows that Ireland is well known for being super romantic. For ten days, my summer nights were spent trying to impress a twenty-something man with my, parent waiver approved, drinking of Budweiser bottles. He would make fun of me because I chose an American beer instead of one of the far superior foreign beers. I reminded Mr. Lorenz that Budweiser was actually imported in Ireland so it was fancy. We saw so many sights that summer. I mean, we both kissed the Blarney Stone so, basically, we made out. That’s just science. He put his arm around me when we got our picture taken at Stonehenge. This trip was the stuff that dreams were made of.
The rest of the summer went on as most high school summers do, working a dirty job for a few hours, going to the mall or the movies with friends, and sleeping. I framed the picture from my trip, not because his arm was around me. I framed it for the memories, and for his super hot bod and beautiful smile.
When sophomore year came around I was excited. I had friends, I didn’t miss boys in the classroom anymore and Mr. Lorenz was my homeroom teacher again.
I was truly #blessed, even before being #blessed was a thing.
Mr. Lorenz was sporting a silver band on his left ring finger; he had gotten married over the summer. I mourned the future thoughts that I had with Mr. Lorenz. I would not be the other woman. I wouldn’t covet Mrs. Lorenz’s husband. He told us all about the wedding, after I asked what song they had their first dance to. Obviously, it was “You’re Still the One” by Shania Twain. And, just like that, my crush on Mr. Lorenz was over, because I really cannot stand that song.
However, I still liked to watch him work that ass around the classroom. Amen.
Rebecca Edwards is a writer and improviser. She has trained at The Improv Asylum, Second City Chicago, iO Chicago and The Nerdist. She loves dogs, drinks and napping. She is also probably in love with you. Follow her @becsbecrebec
datingandhookup.com is a website that explores modern romance in the Millennial era – which, let’s be honest, looks nothing like we were taught to expect. We feature essays, advice and social commentary with humor, compassion and brains, and we vow never, ever to publish a piece called “The 10 Best Ways to Satisfy Your Man in Bed”. Do click to submit your work to us. We love you.
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