'Girls' spells 'Trouble'.
by YBLalat

Tomorrow is officially the last day of class for this semester. I was as joyous as a schoolgirl back from her mengaji class when I realized the fact this morning. There is, essentially, no point whatsoever to busy your ass in the morning to come to class tomorrow; the lectures are totally redundant. The professors (only the sane ones) have vowed not to test any material upon which he or she has yet to put it up as a homework assignment (i.e if it's not a homework, it's not in the final exam). Thus, lectures leading to the last few days of the class are strictly for those who has got nothing else to do at home and wish greatly to waste their precious youth listening to a God-knows-what subject lectured entirely in algebraic notation and the lost language of the middle-aged nerds. I am very looking forward to see the demise of this semester's classes. Now, there just stands the final exam in between me and my trip to Malaysia. After that, a long and smooth sailing for me.

Just now, I ended my Organic Chemistry class with the checking out of all the lab equipment used to the lab stockroom. It was such a sad sight to see the beakers and the test tubes being washed cleanly and polished brightly and arranged nicely before handing them over to the stockroom clerk. I went through each item in the desk drawer one by one, taking my time, and trying to reminiscent what that lab apparatus meant to me personally and my chemistry education. "I still remember all the wacky acid-base reactions that we did together, dear test tubes. And that near exploding heating of the peroxide, do you remember that, Bunsen burner? And that hydrogenation reaction, my beloved round-bottomed flask? When we cheated the laws of chemistry by adding an extra milligram of ethyl acetate into the solution? Sigh. I will miss you guys so much."

But the saddest thing is not just that. As I looked up and across my desk drawer, I saw Meenah Mustafa, the sexy-dressing Egyptian girl that sat across me in her light brown blouse and tight black jeans. Oh! How I will miss your fluffy, round ass as you squat down to read the bottom of the thermometer during the Grignard reaction experiment. Oh! And that mesmerizing, bottomless cleavage as you bend over and read the UV-light chamber's screen during the chromatography experiment. All along this semester, through all the enjoyable and crappy experiments, Meenah has always kept me going (in her own way, of course). The sight of her struggling to open the tight cap of the vial using the rubber gloves never fails to lift my spirit when my experiment goes haywire. Her childlike squeal when her ether layer is wrongly separated using the drying reagent has always comforted me when my IR spectra is screwed up by a too diluted specimen. Oh, Mennah! Thank you God! Thank you!

However, all along this semester, I have never been able to collect enough of my guts, and polished enough of my balls, to sum up my courage to walk up to her and establish a nice, civilized conversation between us. (Yes, Natasya dear, not even a pathetic 'Hi'). Only once that this nearly happen, but it was actually the otherwise. She looked at me and started a conversation. We were doing a eugenol oil isolation experiment one day and was sharing the reaction hood with two other people, but Mennah was setting up her distillation equipment just next to mine. Social interaction between was just destined to be unavoidable. Again, thank you God!

"So, how has Ramadan treated you, Mohamad?"
"Sorry?"
"How is your Ramadan? Good?"
"Fairly okay."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, it's the weather."
"I see."
"A-hah."
"How many years have you been here? In the States, I mean."
"Nearly two now."
"And you are from Malaysia too, right?"
"A-hah."
"Same as him?"
"Yes, same as Kamal."
"Oh, I see."

Awkward silence followed as we did our own thing with that day's experiment. I had this weird, strong feeling, probably the great Satan himself, telling me in a gentle whisper to say something, ask something, to her; so that the conversation would not just die that way in the middle. She has initiated the chat, man. Now, it's your turn. Go on, asshole. After a few deep breaths and a few quick glances at her butt, I managed to come up with some hope and courage. This is it, here we go. Just as I was about to comment something nice about her light pink sweater, she turned her head slowly towards my side and waited for me to turn my head in response to hers. Oh, shit, too late already. She's about to say something, change to Plan B: smile!

*Ridiculous smirk*
"So, do you know where I am from?"
"Yes."
"Really...?"
"A-hah."
"...or are you guessing?"
"No, really. I know."
"Okay. Where?"
"Egypt."
"You know! You know!"
*Ridiculous smirk - Part 2*
"How did you know that?"
"Well..."
"Have I mentioned it to you before?"
"Hm, not really."
"Well?"
"Well, weren't you there, in that Muslim Students' dinner event?"
"You came?"
"A-hah."
"And you knew that I am from Egypt from there?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"Well, I asked around, naturally."
"Asked around about me?"
"Yes."
"Oh, how nice! That is so flattering. Thank you."
*Ridiculous smirk - Part 3*

...and then, out of nowhere, my receiving flask at the end of the distillation apparatus was overflowing with eugenol oil because I was too occupied with the Egyptian chick. Soaked with panic, I accidentally spilled my distilled product onto the floor. My experiment that day was fucked up - big time. My reaction yield for that experiment was less than 15% and I utterly humiliated myself in front of my TA and my classmates for fucking up one of the fucking easiest experiments in the syllabus. I became the class clown. From that experiment, I obtained the lowest personal score for an Organic Chemistry lab worksheet: 77 out of a fucking 100 points. From that alone, my average grade for the course was downed by 10 points. All was for the sole sake of some decent chat with a girl. All was for the sole sake of wanting a girl to know you better, to like you better. But instead, all goddamn hell broke loose. Some fucking investment, I'd say. Damn 'em all to hell. Girls are nothing but trouble.