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I used to really hate Math until I met Mr. Lambert, a teacher from my kid’s school.

Two nights ago I attended a meeting for parents about upcoming changes in curriculum.  Of course I went alone, Eric was out with one of his new “gal pals” as he affectionately referred to them before I left, you know, because he wanted to, “reassure me he and these women were just friends”.  Like I care.

Anyway, after the meeting there were teachers available to answer questions.  Mr. Lambert was the go to guy for Math questions.  I had seen him before.  There are only a few male teachers in the school and he is incredibly handsome and single so there’s always some desperate housewife type swooning around him.I approached him with a question, I  swear, I really had a valid question.  I can’t remember what the hell it was because as soon as I looked into his eyes I was dumbstruck.  I must have asked it because he was giving me some kind of answer.  His eyes were drawing me in, like magnets.  I felt like a cartoon character, eyeballs spinning, tongue hanging out, little hearts and birds flying around my head.  I wonder how I really looked as I yessed and uh huh’ed him to death.

Mr. Lambert…or ‘Lamby’, as I will now refer to him, wanted to know if I’d be interested in helping put together next year’s senior math packet.

I said, “gloobedy fordle monte doobie”.  I think.  That’s how it sounded in my head.  I meant yes, which is what I assume came out of my mouth since we exchanged cell numbers and made tentative plans to meet later in the week.  We shook hands before I walked away and he held on, just  a couple seconds longer than necessary.  He looked at me and smiled….something was behind it.  I don’t think I imagined it.

This morning, he texted me.  “Would Friday night be okay?   I understand if you have plans, I know it’s the weekend”.

Oh yes Lamby…Friday night will be juuuuust fine.  “Works for me”, is what I texted back.

“Could you meet me at the library, at 7.  They close at 9.  That should be enough time”.  He texted.

“Sure.  Anything you need me to bring”?  Some wine, a lace teddy, whipped cream?

His response, “I have it all.  Just bring yourself.  See you at 7”.

Hurry up Friday!!


About Marnie

Writer, photographer, crafter & crappy chef

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