I hate it when my classmates say “such and such law school organization is having free food tonight.” I pay nearly $500 per class day to go to HLS, that shit isn’t free – it’s worse than free. I pay for the food and I only get to enjoy it if I sit through a tedious, propaganda-filled presentation.

I’m not saying I’ve never whored my time for this “free” food, why do you think I went to orientation? It was at that vile event where I met (and promptly forgot about) George. Our relationship was relegated to an occasional, passing “hi” until I crashed a 1L poker/wine event that he attended with his fiancé. I drank the bottle I brought and lost all of my money, but not before charming George and his companion. George and I exchanged phone numbers; he began calling me every weekend to inform of the various activities of his 1L clique. I went out with them a few times, the main draw being George’s fiancé. It would be a misstatement to say that I was attracted to her physically, she’s extremely plain. Pale, dark brown hair, thin, small-frame, slightly larger than A-cup breasts – normal in just about every way.

I was intrigued by the way she treated George, which was better than anyone deserves. I try my damndest to date attractive women, which could just as well read that I try my damndest to date high-maintenance, extremely needy bitches. I’ve never really taken the time to see a caring, compassionate woman in action, it was incredible. Beyond studying her and her relationship with George, I had no intentions.

About a week after going out with them to a bar, on a Monday, George called me, his voice mostly a whimper, and he asked if I wanted to go get a drink.

“Can’t tonight George, I’m tit-deep in contracts.”

The phone rang again. It was the fiancé, she asked a question remarkably similar to the one asked by George. For her, my fake contract studying could wait. We met at a restaurant, the bar was empty. She and George had broken up for complicated, boring reasons; she had moved to Boston to be with him and didn’t know anyone other than myself. Without worrying about the potential consequences, I invited her to stay at my place.

Despite a palpable sexual tension, she slept in my bed alone – I occupied the couch. The next morning, while I was in the shower, she asked if she could come into the bathroom to brush her teeth. I purposely end my shower while she was still in the bathroom, to increase the odds of her seeing me naked.

She stayed at my place while I went to class. George had left a number of messages on my phone, the last of which featured him sobbing. I called him back as I walked into the building; I told him that I hadn’t heard from her. I turned off my phone.

When I turned my phone back on, there were a dozen traditional and text messages, some from George, but more from his fiancé. She had told him where she was, he was going to my place, and she didn’t want to see him.

He was sitting at my door when I walked up. He accused me of various, nefarious acts. I truthfully denied them and offered to take him out for a drink, where he spent three hours detailing their breakup; it was a standard issue grown-apart situation. I told him that I would make sure she got on a plane to her parent’s house and we parted ways amicably.

The fiancé spent that night at my place, our sleeping situation was unchanged, at least until she attempted to join me on the couch. At first, it wasn’t sensual, but things degraded. We wound up making love on my cold, hard floor. We spent the next week together, I stopped going to class, I made stupid promises about our future. My efforts to prevent George from knowing about his former-fiancé’s activities were thwarted by her parents, as she did not show up at their house as planned.

George waited for me to leave the house, there was a confrontation, we fought – as well as two HLS students can fight. After the fight, while we were lying on the ground, we discussed the situation. I again made stupid promises in an attempt to console him. The next day, I convinced her to go spend some time with her parents, “I’ll be here when you get back.” I’ve stopped taking her calls.

I’ve since returned to class, everyone thinks I had h1n1. I promise, my next post is going to be boring and about studying in law school.

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