"But, you know, maybe Im not cut out for this. I mean, an 85. What kind of professor will I be if I keep making 85s on my exams?"
I stared across the diner table at my boyfriend Roger, willing him to shut up, just for a second. He had been prattling on about his damn 85 - the first B hed received since starting college two years ago - ever since hed received the grade six hours earlier. We had been at this restaurant celebrating the first anniversary of our first date for over an hour and he hadnt even finished his salad, which was now limp and warm.
"Maybe I can take a make-up test," he began reasoning with himself. I heard a small, frustrated moan escape my throat, knowing a whole new rant was beginning.
"Roger," I said quickly, before he could begin again. He looked a bit startled, like had had forgotten I was there. "Could you just relax?" I said, almost pleadingly. I could hear the impatience creeping into my voice and I tried hard to control it. "Were here to celebrate...
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