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Something came over Professor Evans’s face then, and it was as if his kind, goofy smile had transitioned into something a lot colder, sinister even. It was easy to see that he was not one for cheating.
“So, there’s two people in a relationship. And it can be any romantic relationship, not just marriage. They’ve committed to each other. One cheats on the other without their explicit knowledge. It could be through words, emotions, or sex. Think for a minute. What’s the common point between that pot of milk and adultery?”
I opened and closed my mouth, trying to wonder what I’d landed myself into. For a hot minute, I felt like I’d ignited a fire up my own bum by trying to be too smart.
And then, in classic Rory fashion, I mumbled what came to my mind.
“The added milk is like the extra thing.” I swished and flicked my hands like I was a little magician trying to do a magic trick. “And the third person is also the extra thing.”
The class had begun laughing once more, but Evans gave an excited little prance like a forest deer and flourished his hands. “Very good! Continue, go on!”
“So,” I continued, my confidence bolstered, “You’re adding something extra to something that you promised was already complete. The other stuff—the milk in the pot and the partner who was cheated on—they already lived under the impression that they were enough. And suddenly, they find out they’re not.”
“GOOD!” He jumped excitedly, reminding me of a grasshopper I’d seen in my yard when I was a kid. “So—think and answer, now—what is the analogy? What are you hurting? Is it just the act of cheating, or are you messing around with . . .?”
“Their expectations.” I finished the line for him, a glow in my eyes. “You met someone who was never on the same page as you and who viewed relationships as a one-way street. And you allowed them to feel that way. You fucked with their expectations. I mean, sorry, I—”
“No, no, it’s quite alright.” Professor Evans had calmed down once more, and he was now pacing around the room like a cool cat. “That was brilliant, Rory.”
I blushed at what sounded like a genuine compliment.
"You see, intimacy is not just about sex," he continued. "It's about emotional connection, vulnerability, and trust. And it's not something that should be confined to a monogamous relationship."
I looked around the room and saw some raised eyebrows and surprised expressions. This was not the kind of lecture we were used to.
"Wait, are you saying that we should all just go out and have multiple partners?" one student asked, a mischievous smile on his face.
The professor chuckled. "No, no, that's not what I'm saying. What I'm saying is that we need to broaden our definitions and be honest with ourselves and those around us along the road. We need to recognize that there are different types of intimacy and that they can all be valuable and fulfilling in their own way.”
I found myself nodding along with the professor's words. It was a refreshing take on a topic that is often seen as black and white.
"But isn't there something special about being intimate with just one person?" another student asked, looking a bit skeptical.
The professor leaned forward, his eyes sparkling. "Of course there is! But there's also something special about being intimate with different people in different ways. It's like having different flavors of ice cream. They're all delicious, but they're all different."
There were some chuckles and nods of agreement around the room. I couldn't help but feel a bit envious of Evans’s ability to make such a sensitive topic seem so interesting.
We were interrupted by the bell. But Professor Evans had one last bit of wisdom to share with the class.
"Thought for the day, folks—intimacy is not something that should be limited or judged by societal norms. It's a personal choice, and it's up to each of us to decide what works best for us. And I want a two-thousand-word essay—no, no, don’t do that." He scrunched his face comically as the classroom let out a collective groan. “We need those credits! So, essay on your views, either for or against the scandalous subject of today’s conversation. Class dismissed!”
This had been a most interesting day. Every single class I’d taken, and especially English and Psychology, had left me with a lot of food for thought.
Besides, the afternoon was so perfect. It was as if life itself had paused to give me twenty-four hours for the books.
The sun was setting, casting a warm golden glow over the bustling streets of New York City. I couldn't help but feel like I was in a movie as I strolled along the sidewalks, taking in the sights and sounds of the city that never sleeps.
My small studio apartment was just a short walk from campus, and I loved the convenience of being able to stroll home after a long day of classes.
As I walked, I couldn't help but notice the way the light was hitting the buildings, making everything look like it was bathed in honey. It was one of those moments that made me feel grateful to be alive.
But my moment of Zen was quickly interrupted when I spotted a bakery on the corner. I did have a bit of a sweet tooth.
Okay, fine, I had a huge sweet tooth.
So, I couldn't resist the temptation to pop in and see what they had to offer.
As I walked into a world of buttery cinnamon and sugar dust, the scent of freshly baked goods hit me like a ton of bricks.
