Several Weeks Later, ‘23 Still Thinking about Shaking Phil Hanlon’s Hand at Matriculation

Below is an excerpt from a blog from a ‘23 titled “Live, Love, Pine”:

I gasped as soon as I saw him from across the room. There he was, a hunk of pure, masculine, raw academia. I looked into his deep brown, slightly-crossed eyes, and in them I saw eternity. I saw universes expanding like interest on my student loans, and panties dropping harder and faster than my GPA. As my eyes drifted, I couldn’t help but imagine what he has hidden away inside that thick, throbbing, brain of his. All those dirty, dirty secrets he’s accumulated over his many years of life. Secrets like “why the fuck would he take away access to the Cube?” 

What a naughty boy.

And when he shook my hand? Every nerve fiber on my body tingled with untamed, nay, unbridled ecstasy as he spoke in that sweet, sultry, baritone Kermit-the-Frog voice that only he could pull off, those three sensual words: 

“What’s your name?”

I told him. And when he repeated it back to me? Sweet GOD did I want to melt right there. As he stared into my eyes for a seemingly very long amount of time, all I thought of was gently stroking that caterpillar moustache of his. But, alas, fate had other plans. Our handshake ended, and I had no choice but to leave. Parting truly is such sweet sorrow.

And thus ended my short, forbidden, but still oh-so-sweet relationship with my dear Phil.

That is… until graduation.

-NS ’23