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I’m going to start this blog with a disclaimer. I am a 3L, and I remember exactly zero things from Torts. Zero. This entry is about Torts, and so my legalese is likely to be shoddy at best. If you would like to think that makes me stupid or the worst law student ever, please feel free. Also, fuck you. On a somewhat related note, my mother has told me on numerous occasions that because I was the first-born she made a lot of serious errors, out of ignorance, that definitely led to my brain not developing as well as it could have. My sisters generally reply that it’s a good thing she made those mistakes because I’m socially incompetent enough as it is, and more brains would have resulted in me being a full-on pariah. Whatever, bitches.

So moving along to the story, just remember that I’m the law student who one time, 2L year, saw an episode of the ABC Family show “Greek” that mentioned that the standard of proof in Civil Law is “preponderance of the evidence,” as compared to Criminal Law in which it’s, “beyond a reasonable doubt,” and my thought was “Huh. Just learned something.”

My Torts professor was exactly the kind of law professor you would see in a movie. Old as fuck, sarcastic, could not figure out the microphone to save his life, with a vaguely British accent, and basically did not believe that women belonged in law school, which he made clear through his jokes about our gender’s incompetence. HAHAHAHA.

He also had eyebrows that looked like this:

via masterfile.com

So these are my eyebrows.

If I waggle them fast enough, I might fly away.

I made the mistake of sitting smack dab in front of Professor Eyebrows. I can’t remember if that was because I was late the first day, and it was the only seat left (probable) or because I really and truly thought I was going to finally get my shit together in law school, and be a gunner, and win things like As (also somewhat probable). And this goddamned professor LOVED to use me as his female punch line. It was like he was too old to read the seating chart and properly implement the Socratic method, so he’d just look up and think, “Aha! There’s one with tits. I’ll embarrass her.”

One day we were discussing sexually transmitted diseases, and what obligation an individual has to a sexual partner to disclose any diseases they may have or carry. There were cases; I don’t remember their names. As per usually the professor asked for me to explain the facts and holding of one of the last cases, which involved HIV. He then asked for my opinion, which resulted in me saying some things about how the husband was an ass for not telling his wife about his VD, but that the court’s holding made me uncomfortable from a “rights of the person infected” perspective.  Eyebrows pounced. In my memory his eyebrows actually quivered in anticipation of the kill.

I’ve got you ensnared in my pubic-like hairs little woman. You shall never escape me.

The next few minutes involved Eyebrows calling on random people asking them what they thought about what I’d said. Asking if it made sense from the wife’s perspective. If she didn’t deserve to know what she was getting into. If the husband wasn’t truly the worst scum on the face of the Earth. My peers vaguely sided with my professor, but how could you not with the way he was phrasing these questions? I could feel my blood boiling, and Eyebrows knew he had me. The semester was far enough along, and he’d goaded me enough times, to know he could get me defensive enough to say something dumb.

When he finally came back around to me I’d formulated an answer in my head that was generally along the lines of, “I of course agree with my classmates, and of the holding in this particular case. My only objection, or point, was that you have to remember that a person with an illness is still a person with their own liberties and need for privacy, and the rule in this case is very strict and broad. I was just advocating for some kind of a balancing test that takes this into account, and does not take any rule of disclosure to an extreme.”

What came out of my mouth was:

“NO ONE WITH AIDS SHOULD EVER HAVE TO DISCLOSE. EVER!”

Prof Eyebrows smiled insidiously and responded, “Who in this class agrees with Miss Hall?”

No one raised a hand.

Prof Eyebrows, “Anyone?”

A few days later a person from another section told me, “You’re the AIDS girl? Oh man, I heard all about that. I thought it was badass how you stood up for such an unpopular proposition.”

Perfect. Everyone heard, and now I was the AIDS girl. This was not going to do great things for my sex life.

UPDATE: Upon reading this blog, a friend goes, “Oh yea, I heard all about the AIDS girl. That was you?” The shame lives on . . .

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