Earlier this year, I got the LinkedIn Premium free trial, which meant I could see when any premium member viewed my profile. It was a thrilling experience to see all the little freaks checking me out each day. Until one morning, when I woke up to a notification that Suresh Garimella had just viewed my profile. I was flabbergasted! That bitch had the audacity to look at my profile, only to then not send me a connection request? I decided to let this one slide because it’s not like he’s a terrible president. He’s not guilty of sweeping sexual assault under the rug, nor is he culpable for pretending that one in four students aren’t food insecure. Therefore, I locked my phone, and went about my life.
The next day at 11:47pm, I received yet another LinkedIn notification. Suresh had viewed my profile again! Twice in 36-hours? This man just couldn’t seem to get me off his mind. This time, though, he had sent a connection request, with the message “You up?”. This must be some kind of prank… right? There was only one way to find out, so I replied with a “yes” and waited. I watched the three dots go up and down, start, then stop again. The suspense was killing me. Then, a 4K close up of his mustache appeared in the chat with the caption “Do you want to touch it?”. I mean… I wanted to do more than just touch it, but how was I supposed to tell the president that?
SURESH: Good. Give me your address, child.
ME: i live in central
SURESH: No, no, no, no. That simply will not do. Come to 112 S Williams St, Burlington, VT 05401. Climb the vines in the back to the third window on the right.
SURESH: Come alone.
With that, I jumped out of bed, threw on my tevas, and ran across campus. Scaling the vines was harder than expected, but Suresh needed me, so I endured. The window was wide open, so I crawled inside. The room was dimly lit with autumn scented candles and there was a single. Twin. Bed. Suresh was laying on it horizontally in a silk red robe, eying me. “You made it,” he said with a sly grin, then motioned for me to come closer. I was now standing against the bed, Suresh breathing on my lightning blue WE shirt. “Please touch it,” he whispered. So, I reached out and grazed his stache with my index finger. He shuddered in response and started stripping off his four layers of robes while I moved my finger back and forth. In nothing but socks, he told me to touch it with my toes. I obeyed, unstrapped my right teva, lifted my foot, and ran my toes across his fluffy face caterpillar. The second my foot phalanges made contact, Suresh came all over my WE shirt. Loudly he screamed “OH, FUCK STEMS! How hot it is that you buttfuck the classics department…”. In response, I heard a woman’s voice from down the hall. It must’ve been his wife. Out of reflex, Suresh pushed me out the third floor window, and I haven’t seen him since.
I am writing this now from the hospital, longing for the day I am discharged so I can climb to Suresh’s window once more.