The significance of being an idiot

Waiting for acknowledgement of first love is a very challenging experience. You keep on hoping for a sign throughout the long drawn out drudgery of lectures, surreptitiously stealing glances at her in the vain belief that a simple return gaze from her means “yes”.  Expectations soar when her head turns around. Could it be that from amongst the sea of bored and hopelessly clueless visages staring up at the lectern, she is searching for yours, in a bid to confer meaning to your existence and ego by risking the professor’s wrath and smiling at you? Will she mouth the words you were wishing for?  Would those lips open slowly, a thin string of glistening saliva forming an ethereal bridge between them even as she parts them to mouth “Me too!” ?

Sunk in thoughts, you get pulled up to the nasty bite of reality in the form of an authority figure who interrupts this most significant moment of your 20 year old existence to ask you what Metcalfe law means. Naturally you don’t have the faintest idea, and go through the motions of confession and penitence. When you sit back down after forgiveness, your phone buzzes with the insistent tone of a sms. “You are an idiot :-)” the message reads. “Pay attention in class 🙂 ”.

The phrase says it all, and you sink back into your seat in reverie. Your brain happily suspends operations for the moment, curls up into a ball and goes into a comatose state.

“You are an idiot :-)” is way more definitive than “Me too”.