Freshman Week

As I come up to speed on the blogosphere, I'm appreciating the extent to which interesting blogs incorporate some element of Confession (like this one, this one, and especially this one). The physically distributed nature of the medium somehow relieves inhibitions, encouraging cathartic honesty.

So I now reach back into my memory 20 years for a juicy sacrifice to the RSS gods...

It was freshman week at Harvard and I attended my first section meeting of first year Economics. The students sat in a circle, and the teaching assistant passed around a page for us to write our names and numbers on. I noticed an attractive girl across the room, so when the sheet reached me I counted back the entries and memorized her name and number. Walking home from class, she happened to walk my way, and I happily learned that she lived in my freshman dorm. "This economics stuff is SOOO hard," she moaned. So I coolly suggested, "Oh, I think I've got a good handle on it. I'd be happy to study with you if you like." "Really? Would you? That would be great."

At this point I was thinking: Man, I love college! "I can swing by any day after dinner. What day's good for you?" I offered. It got better and better as she very warmly replied, "I'm not sure--let me call you. What's your number?"

Now at this point I was so giddy that I obviously lost control of my cerebral processes. What other explanation is there for what happened next? I remember hearing the telephone number come out of my mouth, realizing only milliseconds too late that I had spoken her telephone number instead of mine. I stood there frozen, not sure what to do, knowing it was only a matter of two or three seconds before--

"But, but... that's MY number!"

She didn't call me.