Was it love?

My French grammar teacher from last year wasn’t gay after all; he sent a mail last week telling me that he has become dad! So the mail he sent me last summer telling about the exam results was indeed a love letter (I still show this to my husband when he calls me crazy madwoman; “See, here is a second opinion!”). And when I in the end of summer met him for exam evaluation, was apparently also a love declaration. For one hour he kept telling me how fantastic I was, heavens, I had no idea. I have though repressed the linguistics part which I apparently wasn’t that fantastic at; I just remember the evaluation being so wonderful that I wanted to book a new appointment the week after.

Maybe I should have suspected this when he proposed that we meet AFTER his and my office hours. Stupid me, I insisted meeting him in the morning; daylight isn’t good when meeting young boys.

Maybe I should have suspected this when I found out that he was the only man in the world who actually listened to what I said. He could remember every word I said several weeks after. “But you told me 3 weeks, 2 days and 7 hours ago that…..”.

Maybe I should have suspected this when I 15 minutes before the exam start told him that I needed a joint, and he almost started crying as he could see he had no time to go and get me one.

Gosh, I HAD NO IDEA!