In order to get out of my funk, I called up a girl I met at a bar a few weekends ago. I was feeling sexually frustrated after being rebuffed by Rebecca. I needed a way to work out my frustration and tension. A quick hookup wouldn’t help me with my fundraiser debacle, but it would temporarily make me feel better.

“Hey,” I said gruffly as the elevator doors opened and Natalie entered my apartment.

“Hey,” she purred, strutting in, wearing tight leggings and a low-cut top. She flipped her shoes off and curled up next to me on the couch. “What happened to your shirt?”

I loosened my tie and tossed it onto the ground. “It’s nothing—a spill.”

“Why don’t you take that off?” she suggested, crawling toward me.

I allowed her to unbutton my shirt, which promptly went on the floor beside my tie. Before long, we were half-dressed, rolling around on my couch. Natalie caressed my torso, arousing me. I stripped her pants off of her and positioned her on top of me. But, when I did, I smelled the lingering fruity cocktail on my chest. I thought about Rebecca walking out on me, and I deflated.

Natalie got to work, trying to prepare me for sex, but no matter how hard I tried to focus on the task at hand, I couldn’t get hard for her. Natalie was beautiful, but something wasn’t quite right. I had never experienced dysfunction before, and I wasn’t about to start now.

“Hold on,” I said, jumping up from the couch, my pants hanging around my knees. I shuffled toward the bathroom and shut the door behind me.

I wasn’t proud of what I was doing in the bathroom, but it had to be done for the sake of the performance. I still wanted to find some relief in Natalie, so I leaned up against the door, thought about Rebecca, and went to town on myself. I simply wanted to sustain an erection long enough to get down to business, but I found myself getting carried away as I thought about Rebecca. I remembered the touch of her hand on my shoulder as she went to introduce herself in class. I imagined taking her right there in the classroom, hoisting her onto the desk at the front of the room. Or, I’d bend her over one of the student desks as she begged for me to give it to her.

Without meaning to, I finished on my own. I cleaned up, tucked my throbbing dick into my pants and went back to the living room.

“Is everything okay?” Natalie asked, still nude on my couch. She eyed the bulge in my pants.

“Actually, it’s not,” I said warily. “I think it’s best if you went home.”

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked, her eyes big with worry.

“No,” I replied. “I’m suddenly not feeling very good. It was nice of you to come over, though. I’ll give you a call another time,” I lied, fully planning on deleting her number from my phone the minute she left.

Confused, she pulled on her clothes and walked to the elevator. I slipped her some money for cab fare and she disappeared into the night. When she was out of sight, I stormed to my bedroom and flopped down on my bed.

Admittedly, I had come off a little too strong on her at the bar, misjudging her intentions. I wasn’t really used to trying too hard to seal a deal, and I got lazy. Usually, I could get a girl to do whatever I wanted if I simply bought her a drink and told her she was beautiful. I wasn’t used to putting in the hard work to woo a girl.

Perhaps I misjudged the subject, too. While I had successfully courted students in the past, Rebecca must have gotten the wrong idea when I asked her to go out with me. Any girl with a lick of wherewithal would have known that professors don’t ask their students to go to bars unless they want something that goes beyond education. What was I supposed to do? When we got to talking after class, was I supposed to tell her that I found her cute and fun to talk with, so we should go on a date and discuss a future hookup? I thought I was doing the professional thing by removing any explicit language from the campus. Then, when we were a safe distance away from academia, I would make my intentions more clear.

I could own up to my mistakes in this particular situation. I should have known better than to be subtle with someone naïve. But, at the same time, I had just met the girl.

She didn’t have to pour her drink on me. It was embarrassing, having to pay my tab, dripping with booze. Everyone stared at me as I walked from the bar. I was used to having people stare at me because they knew about my work and my success. I had never experienced people staring at me because someone made an ass out of me. I didn’t mind having the reputation of someone who got around. What I didn’t want, was the reputation that I was a jerk to women. When it was all said and done, girls could say whatever they wanted about me. But, I didn’t need anyone’s public display of rejection.

What troubled me most was how hung up I was about this rejection. I wasn’t really used to being turned down, but I knew that if a girl ever said no to me, I would be annoyed, but not this upset about it. I also knew that I was left in a difficult spot, since I figured she’d be a lock for the event on Friday, but the drink dumping effectively turned me down. All of those factors aside, I still felt this weird sensation in the pit of my stomach when I thought about her.

It wasn’t as if I had feelings for her. That would be stupid. I didn’t even know the girl. She was cute, but she wasn’t a supermodel that I just had to have. Maybe I was so rattled by her because she was the one who got away. I wanted her and she didn’t want me. That was all the explanation I could think of, anyway.

I let Rebecca stew in my mind for the rest of the evening. I dreaded having to face her in class tomorrow, but I couldn’t show it. I wasn’t about to let her win this one.

The next day, I spent a little extra time getting ready. I knew that she would be in class and I wanted her to know what she was missing out on. I strode into the classroom with my head held high and pretended not to notice her in the back of the room.

“Good morning, class,” I announced at the beginning of the session. “I’ve got some exciting news. We are going to hold a little essay contest. Because most of you will have interviews coming up in the next few weeks, I thought it would be a good idea to get a little practice. But, because I know you have a lot on your plate at the moment, I figured I’d give you a few choices as to what you write about, so you don’t feel limited. So, the first option is to create an argument as to how the hedge fund industry caused or did not cause the financial crisis. I’m interested to hear what you guys have to say on this one because I was still in high school when it happened. A potential interviewer will want you to know a lot about the industry you’re going into, so it’s good to have fact-based answers to these types of questions.”

I looked up to see the students furiously scribbling notes in their notebooks.

“The next topic is surprisingly hard to answer and it’s too easy to give a lame and cliché answer. Tell me where you want to be in ten years. If you don’t bore me to death, I think I’ll automatically give you an A. At the same time, you have to make the answer exactly what I want to hear. It’s not an easy task.”

Before I continued, I looked straight at Rebecca. She was quietly writing notes, her head lowered toward the desk.

“The last one will prepare you for the kind of anecdotal proof that employers want when deciding if you’re a competent candidate. I want you to describe a time where you made a professional mistake. We’re all human, and your employer will want to know that you’re willing to fess up when you’ve screwed up. They also want to know how you went about fixing your mistake and ensuring that it didn’t happen again. There are lots of ways you can go with this one. You might even recall a meeting with someone that ended poorly. You guys won’t believe this, but one time, I was about to offer a promising young professional an in that would change her career forever. But, she took my offer as a ploy to get into her pants and threw a drink in my face.”

The class reacted exactly how I hoped they would. Shocked gasps and giggles erupted throughout the room. Rebecca continued to look at her notepad, as if she were too busy to hear my fun stories.

“So, if you’ve ever done anything like that, you may choose to write about that experience and show why you did the thing you did, and how you corrected your error. Choose just one of these topics and write two pages on it by next week.”

“Did you say this was a contest?” a student asked.

I smiled. “Yes, it is. The best essay will not only get top marks on their paper, but the unique opportunity to accept an internship at the very office where I am gainfully employed!”

I waited for the excited murmurs and whispers to quiet down before continuing.

“Everyone in the class, given the fact that you have conducted yourself professionally within this class, has the opportunity to win the prize. Play your cards right, and you’ll be able to set your career on the fast track. Now, for the rest of the time today, we’re going to talk about interviews. Split up into your small groups and talk about ways to be successful while interviewing for a job. I’ll be coming around to see what you’re discussing and hopefully provide insight.”

I stood over my classroom as chairs shuffled around and light conversation developed. I tried not to stare at Rebecca and study her expressions, trying to figure out what she was thinking about. I think my point landed, though. At least I had the decency to keep her identity private, instead of humiliating her in front of her peers.

As I began to make my rounds, I stood near her group, not necessarily looking her direction, and listened for a little bit.

“A few years ago, I was interviewing at a small accounting firm and the owner said a few things that were straight-up not factual. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to correct him or not. I pretended he was correct about the things he was talking about, because it was inconsequential, but I felt so awkward and didn’t know what to do,” a student said.

“I probably would have corrected him,” Rebecca said. “I think it shows that I think that details matter and I’m not afraid to be right about something.”

“Ah, I don’t know if that is a wise move,” I interjected, turning to face the group. “If it’s something truly inconsequential, you might come off as a know it all. No one in a place of authority wants to feel attacked by a lowly interviewee, especially if it’s a head honcho. No, I think you were probably right in not correcting the owner. You have to be careful with how you come off, too. You’re not only being evaluated on your ability to regurgitate facts. You also have to present yourself well and be able to go with the flow.”

I gave Rebecca a curt smile and continued throughout the class. I could just see her seething in her chair and it felt good. In fact, it was almost enough payback to allow me to forgive her for the ludicrous display at the bar. In the end, I wasn’t absolutely sure that I wouldn’t give her the internship if she deserved it. After all, I knew that she would be a hard worker. But, I wasn’t going to shortlist her, because she hadn’t done me any favors. In fact, she received a tiny demotion for being such a pain in my ass.

“Class dismissed,” I said, with five minutes until the end of the time slot. “I’m giving you a little extra time to start thinking about your paper. Also, I’m required to tell you that I’m hosting my office hour today from three to four this afternoon. You are allowed to come by if you need to discuss anything in person. However, I am swamped and would prefer you to just email me any questions so I can sit in here and work on my own stuff in peace. See you next time.”

I began to pack up as students flooded out of the classroom. Unsurprisingly, one student remained, waiting to speak with me. My stomach fluttered. I wanted to know what she had to say for herself.