The Scammers

Last fall, I found out that the Model and his girlfriend perpetrated a con that lasted for months, fooling literally millions of people. 

The Model stopped texting me not long after I finally confronted him about the fact that he never came to see me after he moved back to the Midwest, despite his promises that he would. I didn't try to contact him either. I had finally decided to wash my hands of him and his b.s. for good. However, a few weeks after we stopped talking, a tabloid headline caught my eye.

I have to admit that despite the fact that I am an English professor who reads and teaches writing and classic literature, I often read tabloids for the celebrity gossip and salacious stories. The British tabloids are particularly interesting because they often have the weirdest stories. I read one story about a woman who came home from the hospital after giving birth, only to find out that the father of her children had run off with her mother. Apparently, they'd been having an affair throughout her pregnancy, and both her boyfriend and her mother were unrepentant, insisting that they'd done nothing wrong because they'd fallen in love, as if that justified their betrayal. It's like, wow, these are the days of their lives.

Anyway, I was reading one of those tabloids when to my surprise, I found a picture of the Model, along with a separate picture of a female influencer. I can't give away too many details about who she is because then it will become clear who the Model is; I've always been careful not to reveal too many identifying details on my blog in order to protect my anonymity, and the Model is open about where he's from, which is College Town (the town I live in). But the article accompanying the pictures proclaimed that the Model and this influencer were in a relationship and were madly in love. 

I checked his Instagram page to see if it was true, and he had already proclaimed on his own page that he was in a relationship with her. Their posts were full of their adoration for each other. What was puzzling, however, is that the Model kept posting pictures of himself in his other girlfriend's apartment (the same girlfriend he'd been on-again, off-again with for years at that point) while he was professing his love for the influencer. I didn't understand. If he was madly in love with this influencer, why would his old girlfriend continue to let him stay at her apartment? He did mention that they'd been in an open relationship, but in the article I read, he stated that he was committed only to the influencer. 

So, I checked out his old girlfriend's Instagram page. They were still following each other on Instagram, but she'd deleted almost all the pictures of them together. She didn't delete all of them, just the ones where his face showed up in the first frame. The few pictures that remained were hidden behind a series of other pictures. Either they really had broken up, or she was hiding evidence of their relationship.

Some of that female influencer's followers accused the Model of using the influencer for her fame because she was more famous than he was; like me, they suspected that this "relationship" was fake. But the Model and the influencer kept defending their relationship, and he gave interviews insisting that he really did love her, even though they had not been "dating" very long. 

I couldn't figure out what was going on, but I also figured that it wasn't my business and set the tabloids aside. If I wasn't reading them, I wouldn't have to see any more articles about this "showmance."

But then a few weeks later, he was trending on social media because he was accused of cheating on the influencer by some anonymous woman who claimed to be a college student who had had a one-night stand with him. In another tabloid article, there was a picture of him in bed with the woman, except she'd hidden most of her face from the picture. But I was startled to realize that the woman was his old girlfriend (and she is not a college student). I recognized the headboard in the picture as hers; I knew it couldn't be his because his headboard was different from hers (and obviously, I've seen the headboard on his bed in person) and he'd photographed himself in her bed on more than one occasion. 

It made me realize that he and his girlfriend staged that picture, and then they leaked it to the media to stir up more drama in his "relationship" with the influencer and get his name back in the headlines. 

This is crazy, I thought. But I just kept reminding myself that it wasn't my business, and I tried to ignore the tabloids again. But I made the mistake of reading them a few months later because I was reading articles about Britney Spears (I've loved her music for more than twenty years, and I felt sorry for her when everyone made fun of her during her nervous breakdown, although now everyone is claiming that they feel sorry for her too. Yeah, right, because apparently they all forgot about all the times they viciously mocked her back in the 2000s.) And that's how I found more headlines about the Model.

Apparently, he and the influencer "broke up", and he moved on to another influencer, who was in talks for her own reality show. He told interviewers that he hoped to get on TV with her so he could show off their love. But when the plans for her show fell through, he quickly dumped her, and a week later, he posted a picture of his girlfriend at the beach without revealing her face (he photographed her from behind), referring to her as his girlfriend. She posted several pictures of yet another luxury resort he took her to, bragging about the umpteenth luxury vacation they had taken together, though she didn't mention his name or post any pictures of him.

That second influencer, however, reportedly had a nervous breakdown after the Model tossed her aside, and she disappeared from social media for a long time. I didn't know her, but I felt sorry for her, and I felt sorry for the first influencer too. 

It's possible that both of those influencers were in on the scam, and that maybe they were just trying to elevate their fame, though they didn't give any interviews to the tabloids, unlike him. But even so, that didn't make the Model or his girlfriend look any better. They took advantage of these women's loneliness so that they could profit from it. The Model did it for fifteen minutes of fame and the opportunity to get on TV, and his girlfriend did it to please him, and to get a fistful of cash and yet another luxury vacation that she did not have to pay for. 

I felt angry that they got away with scamming literally millions of people, including the media (especially the media!). His followers egged him on, praising him for being so "loving" to those women. I was so tempted to expose the lies of the Model and his partner in crime to everyone. I had thought of warning both of those influencers and sending them a DM that said, "He's using you. He has another girlfriend." I thought of contacting the tabloids and giving them a "tip" about what the Model and his girlfriend had done; I actually know a celebrity blogger through a friend, and I thought of messaging the blogger first. I actually sat down at my computer to send them all those messages to expose the truth.

But all of a sudden, I thought about Miss Havisham, a character from Charles Dickens' novel Great Expectations (if you haven't read the novel, there are spoilers ahead). She is notable because she is jilted on her wedding day, and she continues to wear her wedding dress every day for years. She refuses to throw out her uneaten wedding cake, so it collects dust and cobwebs over the years. She sets all of the clocks in her house so that they are literally stopped at the exact minute that she found out that her groom had jilted her. It's symbolic of how her life stopped after her heart was broken.

Miss Havisham is consumed with anger and a desire for revenge, so she raises her adoptive daughter Estella to be cold towards men. When Estella breaks the protagonist's heart, Miss Havisham is initially delighted; since she was unable to seek vengeance against her former groom, she used Pip as a substitute. But she eventually realizes that her vengeance does not succeed in making her feel better, especially because an innocent person (Pip) got hurt; furthermore, she is still as empty and lonely as she was before.

I told my literature students that Miss Havisham is a cautionary tale. Dickens demonstrated what happens when you not only suffer from unrequited love but refuse to move on with your life. 

When I was tempted to expose the lies that the Model and his girlfriend had told the whole world, I realized that if I did, I would be like Miss Havisham. I mean, what if those two female influencers were not in on the scam and truly believed that the Model really had cared for them? If I exposed the Model and his girlfriend, those women would only get hurt even more, and they would be publicly humiliated as being fooled by those two selfish, deceitful scammers. Also, despite his facade on Instagram as a good guy, the Model can be truly vicious and vindictive when he wants to be. He would strike back by telling everyone about how I was just a jealous ex who was trying to get back at him. And in a way, he'd be right. 

I did not want to be like Miss Havisham. I did not want to spend the rest of my life pining for someone who didn't give a damn about me. I did not want to go out of my way to hurt other people, even if they deserved it. 

For two years, I felt guilty about hooking up with the Model two weeks before he took his girlfriend on a romantic vacation (although I hadn't found out about her until after I spent the night with him) because I didn't know that they were in an open relationship at the time. When I found her Instagram page after becoming suspicious of him and doing some digging online, I thought that based on her pictures she seemed like a good person. But now I know that she is not a good person at all. A good person does not help her boyfriend lie to the whole world. A good person does not help her boyfriend scam other women into thinking that he cares about them. She knew all along that he didn't mean a word that he said about those women, but she didn't care if they got hurt. She didn't care that he was lying to the whole world because she was lying too. She was just as mean as he was.

If I exposed them, there was the danger of sinking to their level and ending up like them. I don't want to be like the Model or his girlfriend. I mean, if being with him means that I have to scam millions of people like she did, then it's just as well that I'm not with him.

If I exposed them, it would be proof that I was refusing to move on with my life. I did not want to suffer and stew in my misery for decades like Miss Havisham did. I wanted a life where I was free of my anger towards the Model and the pain he caused me. It made me think of a scene from a memoir written by the advice columnist Amy Dickinson, where she was sitting with her first husband. She loved him and wanted him to stay, but he was in love with someone else. She realized that by trying to hold on to him, she was only hurting herself in the process. Save yourself, she thought.

Her words echoed in my mind as I sat in front of my computer. I didn't expose the Model or his girlfriend. Instead, I closed my laptop, and I did something that would make members of Generation Z gasp and clutch their cell phones: I walked out the door without my cell phone so that I wouldn't be tempted to look at it, especially not the social media pages of the Model and his girlfriend. Leave them be, I thought. Save yourself. 

I took a walk in the local park. It was a beautiful day outside, and unseasonably warm. I looked around and thought, There is so much more to life than him. It was part of the mindset I'd developed since I was diagnosed with an incurable, life-threatening disease. Life is too short to waste on jerks who aren't worth my time. 

What about you? If someone you knew had conned people, would you expose them, even if there was a risk that they could strike back at you? 

A Life-changing Diagnosis

 Last winter, I went to the doctor for a regular check-up. I ended up in the emergency room that same day. 

When the nurse took my blood pressure, she said it was too high. The doctor took it again to make sure, and she said it was dangerously high. She said that I had to go the ER right away or I might have a stroke. 

I ended up staying in the emergency room for more than ten hours. At first, they put me on a gurney and hooked me up to an IV and an EKG. They gave me blood pressure medication and took my blood pressure every fifteen minutes because they were trying to get it back down. The blood pressure cuff hurt because it kept squeezing my arm. The gurney was left in the hallway so I had to just sit there while nurses and doctors bustled about. 

After a couple hours, they finally put me into a room where several other patients were, but our beds were separated by curtains. I heard an old lady across the room who kept complaining about her bowel movements, and she literally kept yelling, "POOP! POOP! POOP!" over and over again. One of the nurses' cell phones had the Batman theme song as its ringtone, and it kept going off again and again, to the point that if I wasn't still hooked up to the IV and EKG I would have jumped out of bed and thrown the cell phone down the hall, shrieking, "MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP!"

I was scared. I didn't know what was happening. It made me think of the time I ended up in the emergency room six years ago, when I was diagnosed with a neurological disorder and I almost went blind. I have recovered from that, but I suffered from permanent hearing loss in my right ear as a result. I can hear a little bit out of that ear, but I mainly rely on my left one now. I can't watch TV without subtitles (why does everyone on TV sound like they're WHISPERING these days?), and I often ask my students to repeat themselves when I'm teaching. 

The doctor and nurses couldn't tell me what was wrong with me, but they told me to go to another doctor the next day. After more than ten hours, one of the nurses told me, "OK! You can go home now!" 

I stood up, but I felt really dizzy and disoriented after lying down that whole time. The nurse looked concerned and asked me, "Are you OK?" 

"Oh, I'm fine. I'm fiiinnne," I mumbled, before I literally passed out on top of her. It was like that scene in the movie Elf, where Will Ferrell fainted on top of a shrieking elf. 

Then the nurse helped me up and said, "Uh, I'm going to put you back in bed for a while." She gave me some graham crackers and apple juice because I hadn't eaten since breakfast. After another hour, I finally got to go home, and fortunately, I didn't faint on top of any other nurses.

Since then, I have been back to the hospital fifteen times. I've had an echocardiogram, a renal artery duplex, and a kidney ultrasound. I have to go back to the hospital several times this summer. I am currently being treated by a team of doctors at the local hospital in College Town, including a cardiologist, a nephrologist, and a primary care provider. 

It turns out that I have polycystic kidney disease, which I inherited from my mother. She had a kidney transplant when she was in her late forties. My nephrologist said that I will most likely need a kidney transplant by the time I'm in my late forties or early fifties (I'm 40 now). But the wait list for a kidney is at least 5-7 years, sometimes more. My kidney function is already low, but when it gets dangerously low, I will have to be on dialysis for years while I wait for a kidney. If I don't get one, I could die before I turn sixty.

I also have to stay on medication for the rest of my life. I am currently taking two different medications to control my blood pressure, and I have to monitor it by taking my blood pressure with a digital monitor twice a day (which is why my arm is perpetually sore now). One of the medications made me cough incessantly, to the point that I kept having to buy cough drops. I couldn't drink cough syrup because it didn't work well with my blood pressure medication. 

The doctor finally took me off the one that made me cough and prescribed a different one, which fortunately does not make me cough. The medication I'm taking causes birth defects, meaning if I get pregnant, my baby will be born with birth defects or it will be born dead. So, I will never be a mother. I don't have the money to hire a surrogate, and no adoption agency is going to give a kid to someone who may die before the age of sixty without a new kidney. I wasn't planning to become a mother, but I sometimes think about what it would be like to have a child. It makes me sad when I see parents leading their small children by the hand because I know that that is a path in life that has now been closed off to me forever. 

The nephrologist recommended Jynarque (have any of you ever heard of this, and if so, do you know anyone who's taken it?) to protect my kidneys. But it can cause liver damage, so I'm like, NO!

I lost my temper with my doctors and nurses because they kept insisting that I come back to the hospital for more treatment or yet another medical procedure. I couldn't afford to take time off from work because of the mounting medical bills (which I had to use my stimulus checks to pay), so I had to stay up late every night to get my work done. The doctor even prescribed me a new blood pressure medication that cost more than sixty dollars for a 30-day prescription, which I couldn't afford, and he only backed down after I proved to him that it kept making my blood pressure shoot way up after several weeks of taking it. I hate my nephrologist because he's been a jerk about this whole thing, but there are only two other nephrologists in College Town, so I don't have a lot of options.

I made the mistake of telling my father about this, and he has not been helpful at all. The other day we got into an argument over the phone because he told me not once but six times not to get so worked up about my health. Then he called back and told me six more times. I should have known better than to think that he would be there for me.

I still haven't told my mother. She screamed at me over the phone and blamed me for my health problems when I ended up in the emergency room six years ago (so did my father), and she always makes everything about herself. She will call to cry, rant and rave every day if I tell her. So, despite pressure from my father, I've refused to tell her unless I get worse.

I just feel really angry, sad, and scared. I've tried to be a good person my entire life, and yet I feel like I'm being punished somehow. Other people like the Model and his girlfriend literally scammed the entire country (which is another post in itself, and I will write about that later), and they not only got away with it but got everything they want. But I never did anything like that, and I'm the one who ended up in the hospital. It's scary because now I know how I will die. I will most likely die of kidney failure. Even if I get a transplant, the new kidney won't last forever. I will most likely not live a long life because of this disease.

I confided in one of my friends about my fear of not living a long life, and they said, "Well, if this is God's plan, you just have to live out the time that you have left." That did not make me feel better; it made me angry. I haven't been very religious in a long time, and I don't want to believe that God's plan is for me to have a short life. 

I don't want someone else's kidney. I don't want to have surgery. I don't want to go on dialysis. I don't want to keep going back to the hospital again and again for the rest of my life. I don't want to die. But none of that is up to me. All I can do now, according to my doctors, is maintain my health so that I can hopefully put off the transplant. I've been exercising 5-6 times a week, and I rarely drink soda anymore. If I buy coffee I get decaf. I rarely eat fast food, except for the sandwiches at Starbucks because they're a lot healthier than burgers at Wendy's or McDonald's. I've lost ten pounds, and my blood pressure has gone down. So I still have hope. Maybe I'll be one of the select few who doesn't have to get a kidney transplant. 

Sorry about the depressing post. This whole situation is partly why I haven't blogged in a long time. 

But this whole situation has made me have a different outlook on life, and it's made me more determined to make some changes. I'm going to write about those too, so stay tuned. 

Teachers Are the New Essential Workers

 Me to Student #1: Um, tell your roommate that everyone can see him right now, or at least tell him to put on a shirt. And pants. 

Student's roommate: Nah, it's cool! I'm wearing boxers. Hellooo, ladies. (Several female students in my class giggle.)

Student #1: I'm turning off my webcam now.

Student #2: I can't come to class today. My roommate just got infected with the virus and now I have it too.

Student #3: I can't turn in my paper tomorrow. I just tested positive for the virus. I don't know what happened. I mean, I did go to a party last weekend, but there were only, like, thirty people there.

Student #4: I don't have the virus, but this whole pandemic has made me really stressed out. I can't come to the live class sessions on Zoom anymore, but can you just email me everything I missed? 

Me: Excuse me for a moment. (Turns off webcam, mutes microphone, screams into pillow, and then turns everything back on.) No.

Before the fall semester started, I sent my syllabi for the classes I was teaching to my bosses. It was the same syllabi that I'd used last year, and they'd approved it. But since I am teaching my classes on Zoom this semester, my syllabi came back with many "suggestions" (translation: change this or we will point at you during the next faculty meeting on Zoom and yell, "SHAME"). They said that I shouldn't have every class be a live class; they told all the faculty that at least one class a week should be "asynchronous", meaning instead of teaching it on Zoom, we should provide recordings of ourselves teaching, post notes online, assign short writing assignments or group activities, etc.

On the one hand, I understand why they wanted us to make these changes. But when I revised my syllabus, I looked at my syllabus and realized that I was basically teaching THEIR class, not mine. One thing I always liked about college teaching was that although all the faculty had basic requirements to meet, such as assigning a certain number of pages or revisions for the students to write, teaching them certain skills, and so forth, it was up to us to decide what to include in our classes and how to teach them. But this time, it was all up to my bosses, and I couldn't help resenting that.

Also, the problem with all that asynchronous content is that it creates a lot more work for me to do and grade. I've been spending so much time at my computer that sometimes I have to take a break and lie down on my bed for a few minutes to rest my eyes. 

At the college where I teach, the students are allowed to live on campus (although some of them chose to remain at home and attend classes online), but most of their classes are online. They get tested regularly and the college keeps a close watch on their movements. The campus police has been patrolling the dorms to make sure they don't have parties, but trying to prevent undergrads from partying is like trying to prevent Donald Trump from Tweeting (and can I just say, "HALLELUJAH!" that he was not reelected! I was so nervous while I was watching for results of the election. It was like watching the end of a horror movie, where you're on the edge of your seat wondering if the villain will win and destroy everyone.).

At a faculty meeting on Zoom before classes started, one of my bosses said, "We need to be more lenient with the students this semester. They've been going through a hard time, so they should not be penalized as much for late work or absences."

The problem is that when the students turn in their work late, I end up staying up late to grade all the late work that are turned in several days after I finish grading all the other assignments. When students don't show up for the live sessions (and it's not always due to the virus because a lot of them will email me and say they overslept or that they "forgot" what time the class started), they bombard my inbox with emails or request extra appointments outside of the regular office hours that I hold on Zoom. And since they know I'm working from home, they expect me to be available to talk to them online whenever they need help.

Student #5: Do you have any office hours on Saturday? 

Me: I don't hold office hours on Saturday. 

Student #5: Oh. How about Sunday then? 

Me: No. 

Student: Well, do you have any openings for tonight, like at 11 P.M.? 

Me: Excuse me for a minute. (Turns off camera, mutes microphone, and takes an aspirin. Seriously considers giving up my stance as a teetotaler because I could really use a drink right now. Turns camera back on.) No. 

It's also been harder to track down the students who don't turn in their work at all. When I taught on campus, I could talk to them after class. But when they don't turn in their work, I can try to send them a private DM asking them to stay after the Zoom session ends so I can talk to them, or I can email them. What usually happens is that they ignore my emails and log out before I can talk to them. My boss conceded that if these students try to dump all their work on me at the end of the semester, I can at least say no to that.

My bosses also told me not to make the students turn on their webcams, which means that during many of the live sessions, I'm often the only one with a webcam turned on and I'm literally speaking to a bunch of black boxes with students' names on them. It's disheartening, to say the least. It's also hard to tell if the students are actually paying attention or if they're just surfing the Internet or napping during my class. Based on the emails I've gotten where they repeatedly ask questions about things I already covered during my lectures, I'd say it's the latter a lot of the time.

I understand that the students are going through a difficult time. This is not the college experience they signed up for. And that's why I've set aside extra office hours (but NOT on weekends or at night) and given out many extensions to help them. 

But teachers are going through a hard time too, and we don't get extensions or extra accommodations. The government has deemed us "essential workers" now, so we're expected to basically suck it up and do our jobs. I might be required to teach on campus again in the near future, and I'm afraid to do that unless my department is willing to give me the money to buy a Hazmat suit. It's bad enough that the students used to give me the flu every year, partly because some of them would accidentally sneeze on their papers and then hand it to me. (That's one of the reasons that I now require them to submit their work online instead.)

I know it could be worse. My college professor friends in Small Town said that they have to teach on Zoom and in person at the same time, meaning they teach on campus but have to stay within sight of their webcams so that other students can attend class online. They also have to wear masks the whole time. 

And there are a few perks to working from home. I don't have to wear the mask. I can wear jeans and forgo uncomfortable dress shoes when I'm teaching because my students can only see me from the waist up when I'm sitting in front of the computer. 

And I am grateful to still have my college teaching job and my website job, especially since so many people have lost theirs. But sometimes, I find myself reverting back to the full-fledged workaholic that I used to be, where I do little else but work, eat, sleep, and scream into my pillow. I find myself feeling easily irritated more often now, and I've been stress eating again (I just can't say no to you, doughnuts.). That's also why I haven't been blogging; I literally have not had time.

I know that this is my job, and I really do have to suck it up, at least for now. And I am willing to help the students, and I have. But I can't help wishing that teachers could get more than just a "We appreciate teachers" Tweet, or at least that more people (like our bosses, for example) would acknowledge that by forcing us to accommodate the students in practically every way, we're being forced to work so many more hours with no accommodations of our own.

Sorry. I have to order some new pillows. I may or may not have ripped my old one to shreds.

What about you? Are you an essential worker? Even if you're not an essential worker, what has it been like for you at work now that things have been reopening? 

My Life Is Not a Lifetime Movie

A few years ago, when I was still teaching at a college in Small Town, one of my students asked me out. I was coming out of my office on campus and was on my way to the library, when one of my students approached me. "Hey, Professor, could I ask you something?" he asked. 

"Is it about the grades?" I asked. "I told everyone that I'll post the grades online later this month." 

"Uh no, actually, my friends are having a party, and I was wondering if you'd like to go with me." 

Startled, I said, "No, I can't do that. Sorry, but I have to go." And then I turned and hurried off to the library, moving so rapidly that I might have left a trail of dust behind me.

This happened on the last day of the semester, so I didn't see the student again after that. That's probably why he waited until then to ask. 

If this were a Lifetime movie, I would have said yes, and then, in typical Lifetime movie fashion, either he would have turned out to be a menacing stalker, or I would have.

But my life is not a Lifetime movie. Was I tempted to say yes? NO, not even a little bit. I don't view the guys in my class as people I could date. I just think of them as students, who, along with my female students, are the reason that my hair is turning white. (I have to get it dyed every few months.)

Even though I instantly knew that I had no interest in dating the student who asked me out (or ANY of the students at the colleges that have employed me, for that matter), I tried to picture myself at the college party he invited me to. What if some of my other students were there? What would I even say to them? "Oh, yes, I'm here with your classmate. We're dating now. And by the way, let me know if you have any questions about your final grades. Okay, everybody DRINK!"

There have been other instances. RateYourProfessors.com used to have a chili pepper rating, where students could "award" their professors with a chili pepper if they thought the professors were hot. I was one of the faculty who was rated in that way. The chili pepper rating was eventually removed after a female professor (not me) complained that it was offensive and degrading. 

Another student at one of the other colleges where I used to teach had a crush on me. He never asked me out, but I could tell because he often lingered after class. He'd say things like, "Do you want me to erase the chalkboard for you, Professor? Do you need any other help with anything?" I always said no, but one time, I turned around after packing up my bag and he was literally right there behind me, which freaked me out. He said, "I just wanted to tell you that you did a really good job teaching today." 

I said, "Um, thanks, gotta go." And then I took off, leaving a trail of dust behind me.

I did tell my program director about the student who made me uncomfortable, but there wasn't anything the director could do at that point because technically, nothing he had done was against the rules, even though it was weird and seriously creeped me out. But the director did tell me to let her know if the student tried to go any further than that.

And I've never been inappropriate with any of my students. I never flirted with them or anything like that, so I don't know why they thought it was okay to make advances towards me, because it WASN'T. I thought maybe it was partly because I am a woman; it's often harder for women in academia to get respect from students than it is from men. For example, now that I have my doctorate, I use the title of "Doctor" in class. But every year, there are always a few students who disregard the title I earned and call me Miss ____, and I correct them every time. Almost every time, the students who disregard my title are guys. My male colleagues have not reported having this problem, but several of my female colleagues have.

Most colleges, including the one I currently work for, have strict rules against faculty dating students. A lot of colleges don't allow faculty to date students at all, at least not until after the students graduate. Others do allow it, but only if the student is not currently enrolled in the professor's class. 

Some schools won't even allow graduate students who work as teaching assistants to date the undergrads, even though technically, the T.A.s are still students. They say that it's a conflict of interest. For example, what if you were dating someone who is doing poorly in your class? Would you be able to remain objective and still give that student the grade he or she earned? 

Despite the strict rules that prohibit faculty from dating students, that obviously hasn't stopped some professors at colleges everywhere from dating them anyway, and I personally know a few of the ones who have. Most of them are middle-aged men pursuing students young enough to be their granddaughters. They typically get away with it because they either keep it a secret, or they are A-list scholars who bring in tons of money and recognition to their departments, so they get away with a lot of stuff that the rest of us academic plebeians would get fired for.

But I also know a female professor in Small Town who was several years younger than me who dated one of her students; she said that they didn't start dating until he was no longer in her class, but he was still enrolled in the college as a senior. They eventually broke up after a few months, and she started dating someone (not a student) who was significantly older than her.

Those young people often think that the professors are so smart, sensitive and romantic because they can do things like quote Shakespeare and poetry, but hello, all English professors can do that. It's like Puck said in A Midsummer Night's Dream: "Lord, what fools these mortals be."

Some people might argue that as long as the student is of a legal age to consent, then both the student and the professor are consenting adults. Others might say that there are professors and students who ended up getting married after the students graduated, and the relationships lasted. And ultimately, it's true that it's their choice whether or not to date, not mine.

But in my opinion, professors who date students while the latter is still enrolled at the college, even if the students are no longer in the professors' classes, are taking a huge risk. I heard about a professor (not in College Town) who hooked up with one of his students, and then he moved on to another student. The first student reported him to the university, and he was fired. (The playwright William Congreve wrote, "Heav'n has no rage, like love to hatred turn'd, nor hell a fury, like a woman scorn'd.") He successfully sued his department and was reinstated in his job, but even the judge admonished him for his behavior. 

As a workaholic who has sacrificed almost everything else in my life that mattered for my work, I can't imagine risking everything I've worked for and everything I'm still working for. I may never get tenure, but there are still a lot of things that I want to do. At the very least, I want my contract to be renewed at the college I am currently teaching at, and a relationship with a student might negatively affect my chances of renewal. There are also opportunities for promotion at this school, or if I eventually have enough publications and awards, I could possibly move on to a more prestigious school in the future. I'm also interested in teaching at a military college (they occasionally hire civilians to teach the core subjects like English, math, and science) because the pay and benefits are typically better than at civilian schools. I want to publish scholarly books that are related to the research I did for my dissertation and master's thesis. I want to do so many things that would be very difficult (or in some cases, impossible) to do if I were to do just one thing, which is date a student.

One's professional reputation is very important in any workplace, but it's especially important in academia where almost any time a full-time college teaching job becomes available, even if it's not on the tenure track, there are literally hundreds of people applying for it. I want to have a reputation where I'm known for being a good scholar, teacher, and writer. I don't want to be known as the professor who hooks up with her students, which is why I have never done it and will never do it.

There's also the fact that I am a lot older than my students. Many people have told me that I look young for my age, but that doesn't change the fact that at 39, I am an entire drinking age older than most of my students, which makes ME want to drink. That's why even if those guys weren't my students, I still wouldn't want to date any of them. Legally, they may be adults, but in every other sense of the word, most of them still have a lot of growing up to do. I don't mean that as an insult. I still had a lot of growing up to do when I was that age. When I was eighteen, I scheduled my college classes around episodes of All My Children, and I wanted to marry Ricky Martin (insert facepalm here).

When I first started teaching, I was still in my twenties, and several of my students were older than me. One of them invited me to go out for drinks, but I said no back then, too. If one of my older students were to ask me out today, I would still say no. 

The men I know who date younger women claim that they want women who can have kids more easily than middle-aged women can. That may be true, but I think they also want women whose bodies have not yet been affected by giving birth. 

I'm not totally opposed to May-December relationships. I think there are some instances where it can work, and it can lead to lasting, loving connections. But I think that when one person is a student and the other person is a teacher, it blurs the lines that are supposed to be in place between the faculty and the students. The teacher is in a position of authority, and in my opinion, he or she should remain professional and adhere to ethical standards.

What about you? What do you think of teachers who date their students? What is your opinion of May-December relationships?

What I Learned from Matthew Hussey

Last year, I found out that Matthew Hussey, a well-known relationship and lifestyle coach, was visiting major cities across the U.S. and giving women advice about dating. He and his brother Stephen wrote a book called How to Get the Guy.

The nearest major city where Matthew was giving a talk was an hours-long train ride away from College Town, but I made the trip anyway because I was still hurting after seeing the Model profess his love for his girlfriend on social media just a few days after he hooked up with me last summer.

Tickets to Matthew's talk only cost about thirty dollars, but he also promoted a biannual, week-long retreat that he and his team host in Florida where they provide in-depth coaching. I couldn't afford the retreat, but I was seriously tempted to dip into my savings to sign up for it because by the end of his talk, I thought, Wow, this guy really knows what he's talking about. I kind of want to give him all my money now.

My reaction to him was similar to the initial reaction that I imagine cult members may have to their "leader". Matthew Hussey is handsome and charismatic and knows exactly what to say to get people to agree with him. Except unlike cult leaders, Matthew is not trying to scam or hurt anyone; he genuinely wants to help people make genuine, loving connections. He provides an insightful, frank perspective on the dating life.

Here is an example of what he teaches women about unrequited love:

At the end of his talk, he did a Q&A where he answered questions from a few people that he picked from the audience. I was one of the people he chose. I briefly described what happened with the Model, and then I asked, "How do I let go of all this anger and pain over what he did? How do I resist the desire to publicly expose him for what he did? How do I let go of my feelings for him?"

Matthew answered, "You're hurting right now, but you deserve better. Why are you letting him star in the story of your life, when it's ultimately your story and he's really just a chapter in it?"

He also said, "The most important thing a man can give a woman is security, the feeling that he will always be there for her. Good men don't leave women feeling insecure, uncertain, and anxious all the time." 

Although being with the Model was thrilling and fun, I was in a constant state of anxiety and uncertainty because I was never sure when or if I would see him again. He snapped his fingers, and I came running.

I wish I could say that I took Matthew's advice and didn't contact the Model ever again. But as I admitted in a recent post, I did contact the Model again, several months later (last spring), and he texted back. For about three months, we texted back and forth several days a week, sometimes all day long. I always felt a rush every time I received a notification on my phone and saw that it was a message from him. 

Although he had moved out West two years ago, he was now living in a small Midwestern town. He said that the next time he was in College Town, he would come and see me. But his Instagram posts (he unblocked me once we started talking again) showed that he kept going to the city where the woman he claimed was no longer his girlfriend lived, and that city was much farther away from where he lived than College Town was. He was going out of his way to be with her.  His posts also showed a few pictures of himself in College Town. When I asked him to stop by and see me, he always had an excuse for why he couldn't. That was when I finally stopped texting him.

When the gyms closed down because of the pandemic, I took long walks around a local park instead. I took my iPod and listened to the Love Life with Matthew Hussey podcast that was run by Matthew and Stephen. One of the episodes was called "Why Men 'Love Bomb' and What You Can Do about It". "Love bombing" means that the guy lavishes a woman with a lot of attention for a while, pulls a disappearing act, and will then pop up again weeks or months later. 

Matthew said, "Men do this because they're insecure and need the validation." They get validation from knowing that the women are still interested. This describes the Model to a T. For more than two years, he love bombed me again and again, and I let him get away with it because I thought that the worst thing was a life without him. But I finally realized that the worst thing is a life where I continue to let him push me around while I cling to the vain hope that eventually he will feel as strongly about me as I do about him. 

Recently, he texted me out of the blue, after months of no contact. He claimed that he'd been busy with his work, but I didn't feel that same thrill when I heard from him. Instead, I felt irritated and angry that he thought it was okay to do this.

I responded, "Well, I figured you hadn't texted or come to see me because you were back with your girlfriend."

When we started texting each other again last spring, I avoided mentioning her because I was afraid that he would tell me what I already knew: that she was back in his life. As long as I avoided it, I could cling to this hopeless fantasy that I would get to be with him again. I told myself that since he had his own place in a town far away from where she lived, then that meant that what he told me last summer about how they were no longer dating was true. Also, I was afraid before that if I mentioned her, he would get mad at me and ghost me again. I was angry at him for lying to me, but I had been lying to him too. I'd pretended to be okay with our "casual situationship" this whole time, even though I really wanted more. But at that point, I was done pretending.

He didn't admit the truth at first. He said, "I haven't come to College Town because I rarely go there in the first place." He accused me of overreacting and over-analyzing the situation.

He finally admitted that he and his girlfriend were in an open relationship for years and were now very "close". I wanted to ask him, Why didn't you just SAY that before? I once went on a date with a guy who was also in an open relationship, although he specifically stated in his dating profile that he was polyamorous.

But before I could ask, the Model stated that who he dated was his business, and who I dated was my business. "I don't want drama," he said. 

I told him, "I don't want drama either, which is why I want you to promise that you won't follow through on your threats." 

He said he only said that because I threatened him. But I didn't. Two years ago, after I found out that he took her to Mexico for her birthday two weeks after he spent the night with me (I didn't know about her back then, and I only found out after I got suspicious and started digging around on social media), I told him how much he hurt me because I was still hurting. The Model responded not with an apology but with threats. The Hussey brothers said on their podcast that toxic people see any kind of criticism or questions about their behavior as threatening, and they respond with personal attacks. 

The Model said that he didn't want to talk about it anymore, and then he changed the subject. He continued texting me after that, but I kept thinking, Even after all this time, he still thinks he didn't do anything wrong. He will never change. And whether they're "close friends" or still together, it doesn't change the fact that he treats her better than he ever treated me.

On the one hand, we were never exclusive. But it's one thing if he's hooking up with random women that he doesn't care about. When he's in a loving relationship with someone that he treats like a queen, and then treats me like crap while also stringing me along with just enough "affection" to keep me around, it's something else altogether. She can tolerate his on-again, off-again behavior because he treats her much better, and by that I mean he's treated her to not one but ten lavish vacations in two years, based on what I've seen from her Instagram page. But unlike her, I never cared about his money. I just wanted to be with him. But like I said in my previous post, I just can't do this anymore. 

Do I still have feelings for the Model? Yes. Will it be hard for me to say no to him if he moves back to College Town (he said he might move back here soon) and says he wants to see me again? Yes. But do I want to be free of his control, and do I fantasize about trapping him and his hard-partying, gold-digging girlfriend in a haunted castle with all of the worst villains from Game of Thrones? Also yes.

I didn't block him because if I do, I might run into him in College Town and he'll confront me to ask why. Instead I changed his name in my phone to "DON'T TEXT HIM BACK". Anyone who's been reading this blog since I met him will know that my posts about him over the past three years could basically be summed up like this: "I'm head over heels for him!" to "He left, and now I'm sad," to "I'm moving on with my life, and I'm over him," to "Now he's back, and I'm so happy" to "OK, this time, I'm TOTALLY over him." 

But Matthew and Stephen Hussey have definitely helped me realize that sometimes, it's not just about finding the right guy. It's about letting go of the wrong one. 

What I've Been Doing During My Summer Vacation, Or, Why I Named Squirrels and Argued with a Goose

Before the pandemic gripped the world, I was already counting the weeks to summer.  Since I have a full-time college teaching job and a part-time job for a website, I work seven days a week with no time off for months at a time during the school year. One of the perks of being a teacher is that you get summers off, although I still technically work at my website job and do scholarly research during the summer.

Chicago, which will always be home to me, is very far away from College Town. I usually take a train there and stay at a relative's apartment for a few days during the summer so that I can attend neighborhood festivals, go to museums, eat Chicago-style hot dogs, and yell, "If you try to touch me again, you're going to LOSE that hand, freak show!" at creeps on the El.

However, due to the pandemic, all the Chicago festivals have been cancelled, and the museums have been closed for months. Since it's a big city where the majority of people rely on public transportation, and the streets are typically crowded, I'd basically have to wear a face mask all day. And even though I'd never be one of those people who throw food and scream at workers in grocery stores because they don't want to wear masks, I dislike wearing the masks too. (I still wear a face mask when I'm out in public though because literally every business in College Town prevents people from entering unless their faces are covered.) Also, the relative whose Chicago apartment I stay in while I'm there is a medical professional who treats coronavirus patients on a regular basis, so I don't feel safe going there right now.

I planned to at least get some scholarly research done so that I could finish an article that I've been working on and then try to get it published in a scholarly journal. Academia operates on the "publish or perish" motto, meaning if you don't publish scholarly articles and books, you won't be able to advance in your career. But the library at the college where I teach is still closed for the foreseeable future.

I feel like I've been cheated out of fully enjoying my summer break, but I try not to let it get to me too much. Therefore, I've had to come up with some other ways to fill up my time in College Town. Other than my website job, here is what I've been doing:

1. My gym has been closed for months, so I've been taking long walks outside for exercise almost every day. I usually walk around and around a park near my apartment, keeping track of the number of steps I take on my pedometer, until I get to at least 10,000 steps. I like to listen to music, podcasts, and audiobooks (I'm currently listening to Great Expectations by Charles Dickens) on my iPod as I walk. If no one's around, I like to sing along to the music on my headphones. I've been listening to a lot of rap and hip hop lately, so if you see a thirtysomething college professor rapping  "Bad and Boujee" by Migos during an early morning walk in the park, that's probably me.


Whenever someone jogs, bikes, or walks by, I quickly step six feet away from them or put my face mask on. I'm not the only one who does this; most of the people in College Town have been careful about social distancing, and some of them will even cross the street to avoid walking on the same sidewalk as others.

But one guy in the park got mad and screamed insults at me when I stepped away from him as he approached in the opposite direction; he must have taken it as a personal rejection. I responded, "I'm social distancing, B--H!" And then I walked backwards for a while so that I could glare at him while holding up a certain finger because you can take the girl out of Chicago, but you can't take the Chicago out of the girl. He didn't bother me again after that.

2. I belong to three different Meetup groups, but they haven't organized any events this summer because of social distancing. Anyway, there are few places we would have been able to go; most of the restaurants and coffee shops in College Town still won't allow indoor dining, even though it's technically allowed now in my state.

Other than using Zoom and texts to communicate with friends, I haven't had any social interaction in months, which is why I've started talking to the animals I see during my walks. I even named the squirrels I saw climbing trees; I gave them names like Lucy, Jimmy, and Thor. There are also geese swimming in a small pond in the park, and I named them too. One of them hissed at me when I got too close, and I responded, "Oh yeah? Well, I don't like you either, Maleficent!" I also now fully understand why Tom Hanks had conversations with the volleyball that he named Wilson when he played that guy who was stranded on a deserted island in the movie Cast Away. 

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3. I make up stories about the people I see at the park. I often see the same small group of elderly women sitting together at the park, although they sit far away from each other and wear masks while they're talking. I think to myself that maybe they're old friends who've known each other since childhood, a book club, a group of semiretired bank robbers planning one last heist, or a coven of elderly witches who've been inspired by the movie Hocus Pocus to steal the youth of the children at the park.

4. I still can't write in my favorite coffee shops, but I can at least buy coffee and doughnuts to go and bring them home to enjoy as I write at my desk. I've been steadily plugging away at my manuscript, Obsessions of a Workaholic. I'm in the editing stage right now, and I also outlined the structure of my book on note cards that I hung up on the wall next to my desk.

5. My writing space is set up in front of my windows, which face the courtyard down below. My neighbors work out down there sometimes, but two of them like to blast death metal for hours as they work out. The music sounds like howler monkeys screeching at each other while playing the guitar. I opened my windows, put my speakers on the windowsill, and then started blasting "Oops! I Did It Again" by Britney Spears on repeat. The death metal lovers looked up and cringed, and I looked down at them defiantly as if to say, "I've got a lot more Britney where THAT came from!" And then I started doing the "Oops! I Did It Again" dance that Britney did in her video in front of my windows.


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For some unknown reason, they no longer work out down there, and I've been able to go back to working in peace (I only listen to Britney on my headphones now. But I WILL blast all of my Britney playlists - yes, I have more than one - if the death metal lovers come back).

6. Although the college library is closed, the public library in College Town is now providing curbside pickup, which has been a godsend because I spent too much time reading toxic b.s. on social media that made me want to throw away my phone and move into the cave that Tom Hanks' Cast Away character lived in so that I don't have to read all the reasons that people hate each other on the Internet. I've read many books since the library reopened for curbside pickup, and it feels good to read something that isn't for work for once.

So, other than reading library books, working at my website job, writing, and walking  in the park, it's been a pretty uneventful summer. What about you? What have you been up to this summer?