Help: The scary girl has a crush on me!

Devoted FCN fans may remember a post from five months ago in which I bemoaned a young woman in my language class who scared me more than a passel of half-humans in a Will Smith movie. In that post I described "Annie's" neurotic "zone out" behavior and the jarring impact her intense escapism had on my psyche.

Back then, she hurt my ability to focus; now she is interfering with my love life.

With a new semester underway, the unique seating arrangement of my language class got a shuffle. It seemed none of the eleven continuing students retained their old places and familiar neighbors were replaced with new, fresher faces. Even I, a stubborn student and aspiring ornery codger, budged a couple seats.

But no one moved further than Annie. From her old place across the room from my desk, she transplanted herself to the spot immediately to the left of me. And know, faithful FCN few, that this selection was not random. Annie did not enter the room like tumbleweed in the wind and "find" herself sitting next to yours truly after a couple tours of the class. Nor did she respond to the entreaty of a friend and nab a seat to engender amitié. No. Rather she beelined to that spot with a purpose unbecoming her years.

How pretentious, the reader may opine, of FCN to conclude that a girl holds a crush simply because she wants to sit by you! Only an inflated ego "needs to be needed" and FCN is obviously suffering from a bad case of bragadocious navel staring.

Ah, but cool your jets, the evidence is just beginning to stack up. On the second day of class, Annie's new seat was already taken (Melanie be praised!). Instead of choosing a desk closer to last semester's position, she picked the place to my immediate right, thereby maintaining adjacency. This seat has she jealously guarded every class period since.

Further, Annie has sought my attentions for nearly every group exercise our professor assigns, often grabbing my hand before I even have a chance to ask another student. She finds reasons to ask my assistance on petty problems, even those that have no relevance to class material. Another classmate even asked me discretely if "knew how much Annie likes" me, as if my socially inept mind were incapable of comprehending a teenage crush.

While I may be wrong, all the available evidence, albeit circumstantial and based on conjecture, does point to a crush.

The height of irony is finding a girl you derided on FCN seeking your attention mere months after the derision. Help!

Don't misunderstand, I don't mind a crush. Knowing that someone likes you enough to redo their seating plans is an ego boost. But did it have to be the scary girl?

Here I am, one of four males in a class of sixteen. With plenty of beautiful women whose image does not immediately induce a cringe, there is enough estrogen to go around (It could go around four times, actually). But the other females could care less and are as likely to give our professor another glance as their attention starved colleague, leaving me alone with the freaky girl. Help!

Maybe she could reform and learn to stop zoning out - even Rachel Bilson once had a learning disorder - and I will one day utterly regret not responding to her overtures. Perhaps she is the proverbial diamond in the rough, the undiscovered gem that just needs a little cutting to shine. But that's a chance I am going to take.

Zucht. Soupir. Seufzer. Sospiro. Sigh.