Meet Robinson (I Was Going to Call You Calvin, But I Thought This Was Nicer)

"So I'm just a prop to you? The good looking, smooth talking gentleman to trot out at dinner parties?"

Robinson is, indeed, the good looking, smooth talking (should that be hyphenated?) gentleman I trot out to dinner parties (well, used to trot out to dinner parties, before I went into comps hibernation and he moved away), but he's also much more.

Robinson's virtues are many: namely, he is from the commonwealth of virtue, liberty and independence. Additionally, his father makes guns. Moreover, he is brilliant. Furthermore, he is kind.

We met, gosh, years and years ago--he was a grade older than I was in college, and, I think, the president of the College Republicans. He never spoke to me, but that was not even remotely due to an absence of kindness, rather, it was more likely due to the fact that if a boy spoke to a girl at our grand old alma mater, it seemed as if they might marry immediately. Alas, our friendship was thwarted for a while (possibly Robinson would deny the fact of our friendship, even now, as I'm not sure he believes in friendship between men and women). It didn't help that he won the "big dog" award in a very competitive class--he never lets me forget (although the professor likes me more!).

But, perhaps in part as a result of his obvious intellectual superiority, Robinson has compensated by bending over backward to be generously kind. Including nagging me until I joined him at Georgetown.