Dear Scott,

I know you’ve only been my section leader for a couple of weeks, but you’re the only one I feel comfortable talking to about this. Something happened last night, in the wet darkness of my dorm room while my roommate slept, blissfully unaware. I was writing code in Eclipse, naked as I often am when programming, when something happened. I started looking at Karel in a different way: those smooth feet, that slanting, geometric body, and that mouth—my God, that sliver of pixels whose coy, flat smile promises such mystery, such sensual pleasure! Karel deflowered me that night, Scott, and I think I’m falling in love.

I’m sorry if this seems like a lot coming from someone you barely know, but I knew you would understand. The way you talked about computer science during section, and the passion and erotic intensity with which you traced curly braces – I know that you also first dipped your toes in the silvery pool of sexual awakening with a sequence of bits and bytes. Don’t worry! It’ll be our little secret.

Was it Karel for you, too? Was it the way her buxom vertical inner-rectangle twirled around and around in the throes of carnal ecstasy as she turned left over and over and over again on your dimly lit laptop screen deep in the bowels of Gates? Was it the way she tiptoed around the grid, innocently bending over to pick up those pesky little beepers? For me, it will always be that smile, that goddamn smile, that quixotically mysterious little grin that plays ever-so sensuously along the base of her perfectly symmetrical form.

I’ve decided to marry Karel. It won’t be anything extravagant: just me, my Asus VivoBook Max, and a few close friends and relatives. Scott, this may seem forward, but I want you to be my best man. You understand Karel better than anyone, maybe even better than I do. I want you there with me when I fuse my fleshy being with the ineffable intimacy of Karel’s ones and zeroes. Please. Be my best man.

Yours in computational rapture,

Bradley

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