Ok set the scene: After a HEAVY night of drinking, me, my best friend, and his sister are all walking back from the student ghetto and stop at the Bernhard Center (other colleges call similar buildings the student union , its basically just a place for kids to hang out, do homework, get some food or whatever.) My friend and his sister go get in line for some pizza and I’m left lazily surveying the surroundings I have suddenly found myself in. Either by miracle of chance or subconscious attraction, I find that in the booth next to the one I've chosen, sits an angel. She’s reading.

Now in my experience (and I know this is a horrible generalization,) the inclination, and seemingly the ability to read, is found inversely proportional to physical beauty. At once I feel the scorn of any women who chances upon this arrogant and insensitive blogger. But consider this. Do a search of the "favorite books" of girls on facebook. Three books will constitute the bulk of women's literature: The DaVinci Code, Harry Potter, and Cosmo (despite numerous claims I have seen, Cosmo is not, in fact, a book!) And is there anything wrong with this? Of course not. But to find someone who is reading a large piece of literature for what appears to be nothing more then entertainment, and to find yourself so irresistibly attracted to her by sight alone...well I was blown away

But I was drunk, and any tactful approach I may have been able to compile sober became a hopeless dream. And so I stared across the barrier between her booth and mine, half in hopes she would see me, half in hopes I would never loose sight of her.

She did notice me. I’m sure she thought I was starring at her chest but I wasn’t. I was desperately trying to make out the title of the book she was reading. I don’t remember the conversation that took place between us. I do remember I said I would facebok her. I did, we had a small discourse over the internet from which I discovered that she was reading Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov. Here I must diverge.