Good afternoon! I absolutely love this column, I read it often and empathize with the stories. That’s why I decided to write, hoping that someone out there won’t judge me. I don’t think I’ve done anything terrible, but society seems to disagree. Here’s my story!
A year ago, I graduated from university and started working at a school. I’m fairly attractive, so I’ve never had issues with the opposite sex. I teach English, which adds a certain charm to my profession. I constantly catch the gazes of high school boys. But that’s understandable—students have always been drawn to young teachers. When I was in school, I was head over heels for our physics teacher. He never gave us any reason to be, but all the girls couldn’t take their eyes off him. We even studied physics harder just to earn his praise.
There are so many books written and movies made about relationships between students and teachers, yet this topic still captivates everyone.
I got a bit sidetracked. Anyway, in one of the senior classes I teach, there’s a student named Henry. Imagine, not Harry, but Henry. He’s so shy and awkward. I noticed that during lessons, he doesn’t just look at me like the other boys—he devours me with his eyes. It felt like I was standing there without clothes.
He’s very good-looking: tall, well-built, with dimples on his cheeks and a charming smile. And his eyes! If you could see his eyes! To be honest, I was quite taken with him too.
I decided to find his social media profile to see if he had any photos. I searched for him online for a long time and finally found his page. I was hooked. There were plenty of pictures, but only with friends—no photos with a girlfriend in sight.
Henry was a bit older than his classmates; he had just turned 18, officially an adult. That day, when I visited his page, it was his birthday. I decided to seize the moment and write to him—not anything serious, just to wish him a happy birthday. He was surprised, didn’t expect it, but he replied, and things took off from there. We texted back and forth almost until morning. That day, a spark ignited between us.
I never expected this from myself. It was like I’d lost my mind. I suggested we meet up, and he agreed. Don’t think anything scandalous—just a walk in the park. We met, and during that walk, we talked about everything under the sun. He turned out to be incredibly mature, well-read, with excellent manners and the mindset of an adult. I was pleasantly surprised. He wasn’t trying to impress me; he was just himself.
In that moment, I realized I wanted him terribly, like I would an adult man. I barely restrained myself from jumping on him right there. In my defense, I’m not at all promiscuous. I’ve only had two boyfriends before this. Somehow, I held back.
He offered to walk me home. I live alone, renting an apartment. When we got to my building, I invited him up to warm up—it was freezing outside, and he still had to travel across the city. He hesitated, a bit shy, but then agreed. We sat in the kitchen, drank tea, and watched TV.
I don’t even remember how it happened, but it was magical. I’ve never felt so good with anyone as I did with this sweet boy. I don’t understand why. He told me I was his first. Can you imagine? I was flattered to be his first.
Since then, things have spiraled. I try to keep our relationship under wraps so no one suspects anything. I often keep him after class for “extra lessons,” supposedly to help him catch up or prepare for a competition. We lock ourselves in the classroom, and I love it. I’m scared someone might walk in, but that fear is thrilling. I’ve fallen for him like a schoolgirl.
He’s graduating soon, and we plan to go public with our relationship. I know it’s not ideal, but I’m asking for your support.
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