What you imagine she’s thinking as she glances in your direction from across the quad:

“Oh, there he is! So artfully disheveled, he definately doesn’t pay attention to looking that way, it just happens. I would go talk to him, but he’s so enveloped in that book. Gosh, a reader. Everyone else is addicted to their technologies, but not ____. He’s a real Renaissance man, that one. What’s that he’s reading- Being and Time? I would go ask him about it, but I wouldn’t want to bother, and besides, he’d probably just say, ‘oh, it’s complicated’, not because he doesn’t comprehend every word of it, but because he’d be too modest to really spill that wealth of knowledge on me, at least on a first date. Wait- it wouldn’t count as a date, would it? Gosh. I guess I’ll just go home, scan his facebook page to see what he’s up to this weekend, and then run into him at a party when I’m playfully drunk. That way it’ll feel totally natural when we make out. But I won’t go too far, we’ll have plenty of time for that over the course of our relationship. Because I definately want to be in a committed relationship with that endearingly shaggy philosophy major’.

What she’s actually thinking:

“I gotta shit.”