Another fourth-wall warning: if there is the slightest chance that we went to college together, and a chance I liked you, you may want to stay away. Seriously.
IT ALL STARTED WITH a canceled class.
I had signed up for an art class, "Beauty and Ugliness," with a rumored-to-be-fabulous professor who would be on Jeopardy two years later and last for three games. But over the summer, the registrar sent out an email saying that it was canceled for some reason. Thus, my entire schedule was rearranged after I was put into a different class and I'd end up being in class for four or five hours at once, with no lunch break, unless I took action and switched into another class. Which I did.
And that's the class I was waiting for at this moment in time.
We were squished like sardines against the walls, trying to make way for people getting out of other classes and still trying to make room for each other. There were only four guys in the class, and I was standing almost directly across from one of them. He was several inches taller than me and he looked nice and preppy in khakis and a classic navy Hollister shirt. I thought he had cute guy potential, but how often did I look at someone twice and they ended up being not so cute after all? I looked anyway.
Hey...
And thus I had a reason to look forward to art after all.
As usual, though. I had my work cut out for me. And thus began the saga of the next three years where I learned, and broke, rules of college dating.
Rule 1: Make sure they notice you.
We used a band/orchestra room for our class. He sat on the side right of me. So I had a pretty good view unless someone's head was perfectly positioned in the way, which it was sometimes. He sat right with the three other guys, a patriarchal band of solidarity.
Art wasn't very exciting, though it did have a creative writing component, which I appreciated. Soon after I'd noticed him, we had an exercise: fill in the blanks: "My love is like a (color) (color (object)." I wrote, "My love is like a blue blue sky." We were asked to say them aloud, and lo and behold, the cutie came up with the same thing. Destiny! Of course, I had to come up with something new so nobody would think weird thoughts about the obvious coincidence.
I spent class time casually catching glimpses of him; less obvious than the ones I gave Ben in middle school history class. Whenever we went to the campus art gallery, I would try to stand near him. Eventually, maybe I'd find out more about him. When our teacher called on him one day. I eventually learned his name was Tim. Booyah.
But class only met twice a week, and in December it would be over. Would I ever see him again? I was determined to take action. After lots of thinking, and after learning his dorm room was easily accessible on the first floor of the building adjoined to mine, I decided to send him a note to say Happy Thanksgiving. I typed up a note with clipart, then snuck into his dorm one day (I'd noticed him going in one day after class let out, and it was conveniently easy to get to) and taped it to his door.
Nothing happened.
I got in my own way when it came to meeting people in college, as I've gone into previously. I'm still really not sure why. Maybe sort of victim complex came upon me after Jessica rejected me. It's also possible that I wanted Ben, after his rejection, to feel bad for me and come back offering friendship---not that he'd know my situation, but if word ever got out, maybe he could and then---anyway, I also held on to the belief, like the one I had four years prior, that I could make friends any time I wanted, but just didn't feel like it at the given moment. Either way, some weird personality zombie embedded itself into my soul and steered myself away from human contact.
I still can't explain it to you. But here we were, sophomore year, and I had to figure out a way of talking to someone.
So, notes were the way to go.
So I tried again by Christmas break. This time, I made a Christmas-themed note and attached chocolate snowmen. I taped it to his door right after our last class, then left immediately after because of a snowstorm that was on the way. Whatever happened later would happen.
Rule 2: Seek them out, but don't be too obvious.
The end of the semester was devastating. I missed Tim a lot, but I'd soon find out that it may not be as hard to find him as I thought.
I'd once seen him leaving a class at 4:45 in a building where there were seating arrangements right outside the classroom doors. Soon realizing that that class would begin at 3:30, I'd plant myself there in front of my big Shakespeare book and wait for him. Sometimes, in trying not to be obvious, I'd be so absorbed in my reading that I'd miss him going in and would try to peek in through the windows when class started. He was a nursing major, and the number of girls in his classes would infuriate me.
So I became hardcore at finding him. As time went on, I'd develop a high-profile system of trial and error in determining what classes he was in and when. I was proud of this system. Nursing majors followed a much more rigid class program than people in my major, so this wasn't always hard to find, minus some electives. I'd go on the website and look up the classes for each semester. Then I'd go into the master schedule and look up each class meeting time per class. Often, there was only one, especially as upperclassmen. Then, I'd strategically place myself near the class building. If he showed up, great! One class down. If he didn't, I'd try again at another time slot. The key was to get there 15 minutes early-30 minutes early for upperclassman courses- and stake out the area. This would begin every semester.
Maybe it worked a little too well. Whenever he took the bus to class, it was extra convenient for me because the bus stop was outside of my dorm one year. So I'd simply go outside and wait for him. Not that I'd ever think to talk to him, no. That was too risky. But I'd watch as he went to class. And he must have noticed me. I didn't feel like going outside one day, so instead, I watched him wait for the bus from my room instead. I watched as he looked all around the area where I usually stood, probably wondering why I wasn't there that day.
Other times, I would go to field hockey games. His sister was on the team. I had also played field hockey before and had been meaning to get to a game, so this was my chance. I ended up going to almost all of them. Tim and his family were at almost every home game as well, so that game me an extra reason to go. Besides, nobody would think you're creepy by going to a school sporting event. We played well that year, but then his sister would quit. End of field hockey sightings.
Was I aware I was being creepy? Sure. Have I matured? I think so. But this ever-present game of hide-and-seek offered a thrill.
Rule 3: Don't assume things.
Tim was a sweet Catholic guy, which I loved.
He even liked a Catholic band that often came to our town, or even our campus, for gigs. Full Armor Band, I found, was pretty talented and I bought some of their songs myself in an effort to bring some God into my life. I'd even considered going to a few of their concerts. It sealed the deal on his sweet-guy persona. He wasn't just another obnoxious frat guy.
One night I was taking an evening walk, which I often did. I let my thoughts go in freefall as I explored the quiet campus. Then I came across his room, and the curtains were open. It was mine for the taking. There was mild activity going on inside, and I saw remnants of a flashing TV screen. Previous evenings told me they liked to watch TV. Sometimes it was The Office, other times it was even Mario Kart. You could always tell they were playing Rainbow Road by the proportional amount of f-bombs being dropped. But tonight's choice was a bit more obscure. It looked like a love story...or perhaps it was Forrest Gump? It was hard to tell. The ending scenes looked like a guy taking a girl in his arms. Definitely not Forrest Gump. Maybe The Notebook? Oh my gosh. Tim was watching a chick flick.
I continued to watch the credits roll. I loved all the stereotypes that were being broken in front of me. Certainly, Tim was my type...sweet, shy, God-loving, and just plain sweet.
Then the credits finished. Big text read: ZACK AND MIRI MAKE A PORNO.
So he was a typical college guy! Were you kidding me? After all this time thinking he was this innocent guy? Wah-wah-wahhhh.
But in the months that followed, he didn't seem all that sex-obsessed or pervy in any way. He seemed normal, in all the best ways, and I still wanted to get to know him.
"You don't know that!" Daniella would tell me as I texted the latest developments, which I usually did. "You have to get to know him to know who he is first." I wished it were that easy, but talking to guys was HARD.
Flash forward to April, in which I still hadn't talked to him and was taking another walk. Hopefully I'd be able to catch some glimpses of him before it was time to go home for the summer. I did see his roommate. A big burly guy on the football team, he wasn't much to look at. On the other hand, the curtains were wide open and the overhead light shining bright. If Tim were there, I'd have a good view.
But why was he in another room?
And that's when I realized, in horror, I'd had the wrong room all year. The pattern of doors in his dorm and windows on the wall did not match up. I stared, then almost started laughing. So Tim wasn't a typical college guy after all. Maybe. And how much time had I wasted spying on random guys...not counting the guy on the same floor who once saw me outside, as he was dancing to his music putting his laundry away, and freaked out, hustling to the side of the room that couldn't be seen.
So I let Daniella know of my mistake. Needless to say, I was laughed at.
But at least I had next year. And was it me, or did Tim smile at me as I was packing my car for summer, hours after I'd left him a goodbye note?
Rule 4: Talk to them! But don't bother them!
It was Tim who talked to me first.
I was sitting on a bench outside the dining hall preparing to go to my dorm after dinner. Meanwhile, his group of friends was leaving as well, when they decided to go check their mailboxes. You know how many girls are notorious for going to the school bathroom in groups? Well, at my school, people were notorious for going to their mailboxes in groups. I swear I was the only one to ever go pick up a package by myself.
I thought his feet walking in my direction, but assumed I was imagining things. When did guys ever talk to me?
"Hello."
And there he was, in front of me.
I don't remember exactly how it went, but he asked me about classes and said that junior year was a lot harder. "I know how that is!" I said, thinking of my awful Language Studies class. Eventually, I said that I had to go meet someone, for fear of running out of things to say more than anything. We said goodbye, and that he'd see me later (my favorite part). Then I struggled to walk out the doors without jumping up and down and cheering. So I told Danielle and we had a mini celebration.
He was easy to talk to! This would be simple!
But he didn't talk to me for a week. I didn't understand. He seemed to enjoy it, and insinuated that he wanted to see me again! What was going on? I had seen him before walking around with a little-ish red-haired girl (no, not the one from Charlie Brown). At the school talent show not too long ago, they sat together, whispering into each other's ear. On the night before I left school last year, I'd seen them hanging out together a lot and I was filled with a feeling of dread.
Apparently nothing was going on though, because he sought me out after that week. I was prepared with talking points this time, including the field hockey schedule. It was fun in games, but that day, he decided that he'd be the first to leave the conversation.
We talked a few more times. He would say, "Did you want to tell me something?" I wasn't sure what he meant by this. Surely not a love confession? Heck no.
The truth was---and I didn't even realize this until this writing--- was that I did something truly stupid to possibly ignite that. I left him another note at his dorm rather than go talk to him even though we were now on speaking terms. That one move probably classified me as an idiot who was too afraid to talk to anyone and let him know it.
I was about to leave for fall break when I decided I'd tell him goodbye myself. Unfortunately, my timing was off and I'd missed him again. So I panicked, scribbled down a goodbye note, and left it for him. I spent the break being disgusted with myself.
One day in November, I received a formal-looking email from the dean of students' office. Marked CONFIDENTIAL, I was going to check it before heading to my British Lit class, but it turned out I had to go through a sign-in process to read it. I didn't have time to get the credentials, so I saved it for after class. It was a very long 45 minutes before I could dash to the nearest computer lab, log in, find the email program, log into that, scroll through a bunch of new stuff, get the credentials, and read the letter that I was told would expire in 30 days. It was all very secret-agenty. It read:
I would like to meet with you to discuss some concerns that have been brought to our attention. Please come to our office at 1:30. If that time does not work for you, it is your responsibility to reschedule.
My heart just dropped.
I had always been a "good girl" in school. I'd met with the high school dean once when I left a bad review of their school online, but I didn't get in trouble or anything. What could I have done? Did I accidentally plagiarize a paper? Could I get expelled? My head buzzed with all the warnings from high school teachers of what happened to college students who plagiarized. As tears threatened to fall, I convinced myself that my academic advisor would be in my corner; that she would know I wouldn't intentionally copy someone else's work.
But was it a paper? Could it be to discuss...Tim?
We hadn't talked in a while at that point, so I wasn't really sure. Unfortunately, those were the only two plausible instances that I could come up with, and I didn't recall plagiarizing anything.
The next two hours went slowly. I almost wished the meeting would happen already just so it could be done. Danielle said that she would be with me in spirit, but that didn't really help to take away the thoughts of what could happen. I remember heading to the cafe, trying to nibble on what would normally be delicious chicken tenders and a slushie, but I just couldn't enjoy the taste of anything.
Once I got there, the dean greeted me. And then the dreaded words: "We're here to talk about Tim. Does that name ring a bell?"
I was tempted to lie and say no. But I couldn't do that. I was a good, honest person, or so I thought.
I felt a strange mix of relief that I wasn't about to be expelled and horror/humiliation that I was about to be discussing my affairs with an adult. But the feelings also filled me with truth. It was like someone had given me a truth potion from Harry Potter, and I honestly answered every question she had, without a second thought. The meeting took about an hour, but then she revealed that she wanted us to actually have a meeting together to talk out what happened.
Yikes! Mostly, it was surreal. This shouldn't be happening in college!, I thought to myself. This is a middle school thing. Funny enough, I'd had panicky fantasies in middle school of Ben calling in his mom and the upper school director for a meeting about my harassing him. Thankfully, that never happened. It would have been ugly. But history repeats itself I guess. Or maybe I'm just psychic.
The weekend went in slow motion, a weekend where I hated my whole life. I watched the people around me live normal lives and have fun with themselves while the minutes ticked away towards the most awkward conversation of my entire life. Then, on Monday, November 17 at 10 AM, we arrived for our chat. I arrived first, followed by Tim. What followed were about twenty minutes of the most awkward conversation you could imagine. Here are a few set pieces I remember:
"You can be friends with me. I have no problem with that." No problem? But...you should want to...sigh. Another who just wanted to make me happy instead of actually wanting to get to know me.
"You can say hi to me. I don't bite." (Remember Roger from the early thespian days? Here it was again...the no-bite deal.)
"My friends? Yeah, they're okay with you talking to me." Huh. Try talking to a bazillion of them at once when you're nervous of the prospect of talking to cute guys.
We didn't speak again for months.
I can't accuse Tim of not trying. Days later, we were in the same place at the same time. He had said I could say hi whenever I wanted, and I think he was hoping to make it easier for me. But then his friends arrived. As I was trying to walk out the door, they swarmed me so I had no escape, and I felt like I was drowning in people-yes, that's possible. While I appreciated the effort, I was fiercely uncomfortable. I tried on occasion, too. but just as I thought he was on his own, a friend would pop out. He was never, ever alone.
Eventually I wound up giving up, thinking that after all the time we spent not talking, it would just be weird to start talking to him again. Besides, trying to have a natural conversation after all that had happened was mission impossible.
Rule 5: Don't stalk the girlfriend.
By now it was pretty obvious that Tim and the little red-haired girl were dating. They were always together, and I was always running into them.
In junior year, the year where we started talking and had the infamous meeting, they were officially a thing. It also didn't help that Natalie lived in my building, a floor above me. We were often crossing paths. It sucked.
Curiosity killed the cat, and it just about did the same to me. I would go peek at her window from outside, but that never really worked. At times, she would see me hanging around and I got a few dirty looks.
One night, I didn't have much to do, but I knew that Natalie had been hanging out with Tim at some point. So I crept inside and headed up the stairwell to their floor. I'm pretty sure everyone saw me enter. Rather than have a confrontation, I took a left into the lounge.
But Tim, his friends, and Natalie weren't leaving the hallway. After ten to fifteen minutes of waiting, I took the elevator to my own floor. Unfortunately, trying to go back down the stairwell, they were there again...waiting. Somehow they'd gotten the impression that I'd go back downstairs to the lobby after the recent escapade. So they stood there, whispering to each other, clearly trying to wait for me. I'd had enough and ran back upstairs.
They knew I would often be nearby when they were together, and would sometimes try to make it clear that they were dating...once, I saw them making out in front of me. Natalie was also a dancer, and I'd eventually figure out times on Tuesdays and Thursdays when Tim would accompany her to class. I'd appear there, too.
And as the year began to wind down, something strange happened.
As finals approached, I was sitting outside doing my math homework on the amphitheater. That was also the day that the school brought in local rescue dogs that you could rent for 15 minutes or an hour, depending on the price. Tim and Natalie often liked to rent a dog on these occasions, and I saw them walking around with one that afternoon. I envied them. What I would give to bond over dog walking with Tim! But they were headed in my direction...and not turning around...ten feet away...almost five....I jammed my notes in my bag and retreated to a bench fifty yards away. I just couldn't deal.
Once I'd assumed my new place, I saw Tim and Natalie standing in my exact former spot at the amphitheater. Trying not to notice, I went back to my math. Then they started getting closer....and closer....I packed up yet again and headed to a second bench. Once again, the two arrived at my old bench and stood there for a moment before continuing on. I left for my dorm room and locked the door behind me.
I assumed they were trying to get back at me, for all the following I'd been doing. At least at the time. I had no clue what was going on. But Natalie was about to one-up me yet again.
Later that evening, I was walking place the main cafe. You could often get a good view from outside, particularly if it was getting darker out. But it was Natalie who saw me first, sitting with Tim. She smiled and waved.
Oh, good grief.
I was never good at playing games. Including now. Was Natalie teasing me by rubbing her relationship in my face? Was she just trying to make nice with me, or get me to be nice to her?
I had a strange feeling of having a weight lifted off my shoulders. Maybe I could be nice to her. It could get me brownie points with Tim, who seemed to be ignoring me even harder after the fact. Tonight, I could put the kibosh on our silent feud once and for all!
But when to do it? While watching my nightly episode of The Office (I still remember the episode...everyone was at a pool party splashing away and having fun, not exactly the anxious mood I was in), a feeling gnawed away in my stomach, urging me to get the apology over with. Finals were approaching and I didn't know when I'd see Natalie again. So when it was over, I headed to the third floor, the very hallway in which I'd tried to stalk them weeks ago.
I stood in the hall for ten minutes, sometimes pacing back and forth and other times standing in between doors so nobody would notice me out their peepholes. My heart was pounding and I knew I'd just end up going back to my room. Finally, I surprised myself by knocking.
Gulp. No turning back now.
I swore I heard the faintest of whispers behind the door, but nobody answered. Trying to position myself away from the peephole, I tried again. and again. Just as I was about to give up, Natalie opened the door ever so slightly. I could see her roommate, Caitlin, watching from the side.
She seemed somewhat surprised, and pretty tentative, but here I went. Focusing on her ballet slipper necklace, I began, "Hey. I just wanted to say...." Er. How DO I put this? 'I'm sorry for following you everywhere and being a jealous prick?' "I just wanted to say I know things have been weird between us, and I'm sorry. I won't do it again."
"Oh. Well, thank you for apologizing!"
Crap. Now I have to END it??
But sometimes overthinking doesn't pay off, because the words found me again. "Anyway. I'm sorry. Good luck on finals!" The good thing about finals was that you had an automatic sendoff to whoever you were talking to, and I couldn't be more grateful for their timing. She said something in return, and I was off. I was flooded with relief and fist-bumped the air. You might not think this was a big deal, but for a girl who had ridiculous anxiety about talking to people, I was proud of myself. College was, indeed, much more than a place to learn academic stuff. You learned a lot about yourself, like that you might be a giant bully and not even realize it. Add that to the Serena email-thing from the Ben saga, and...was I ever truly the school "good girl?"
I even talked to Tim one more time. He'd been noticeably warmer toward me even though we didn't talk, giving me a wave the day after my apology. But it was on the day of my last final that I would get the courage to initiate the conversation for the first time.
We were both leaving lunch around the same time, and hung around to wait for him...sadly, he was chatting with his sister. I followed them as they walked into the cafe, and I followed. Besides, I had been planning to use the rest of my leftover meal points to stock up on my favorite snacks before the summer. I made my purchases, and noticed afterward that he was standing right next to me.
"Hey," I said, a bit put-off by how tall he really was in front of me, which still wasn't that tall. And then I don't remember what else I said other than telling him to have a good summer and that I'd see him next year.
When we were finished, he nodded and said, "That sounds good!" And so I left for the year, feeling just like I had done last year while leaving, but having accomplished a lot more.
Rule 6: Make your time together count.
College is only four years, unless you continue your education. But if you do, it's usually a lot more about the work than the social life. Tim and I only had nine months until graduation. He would have heaping amounts of work in a notoriously hard major, and he was still dating Natalie. I still had to fight the occasional urge to make a snip at her fake highlights (she was more like the little brown-haired girl now), but an apology was an apology and I had locked myself into civility last spring.
And me being the nervous Nellie I was, I barely spoke to him. I wasn't used to talking to him. I hadn't done it in over 3 months.
The first time I truly encountered him was walking into the library. He was going in, I was coming out, and I ignored him. As I walked past, I heard an audible sigh. He was right. Why wasn't I talking to him? Was I supposed to have DONE SOMETHING?
That year, Tim's room was facing the pavement path on the route I took to get back to my own dorm. On a dark night, it was very easy to fall back into temptation and look inside, and sometimes I did. I usually didn't see much happening, though.
I had little to no chance, and maybe that's why I didn't talk to him. Seeing them leave for the senior fall ball together, me in my loungewear returning from a basketball game with no plans for the evening, left me in a rage of tears later that evening. He was so my type, and now nothing would happen. And they were older college students. What if they were each other's last relationship?
It was awful, so I guess I thought it best to ignore him, although seeing him with Natalie everywhere really hurt. I did get a few smiles from him on occasion, and I tried to position myself in places where I thought he might be, though in a less obvious way.
Still no luck by the time the spring barbecue came around. We had maybe three weeks left and they were still hand-in-hand. I was sad at the prospect of never seeing him again, but I also felt emotionally numb to it at this point. Stuff with guys never worked out.
In May, I had to do something. If I didn't talk to him soon, we never would again. It would be too weird for me to show up in his life after graduation. So when the posters appeared advertising the senior research poster day, I knew I had to take the chance.
Once again, it was the last day of my being at school for the year, at least until graduation. I guess I'd been making a tradition of this.
There were about two weeks between then and graduation. It used to be that there would be a "senior week" where there would be many festivities, but after hearing stories of boys and flaming arrows it was obvious that this tradition was no longer happening. Life returned, shortly, to normal. I hung out at home. I visited my grandma who recently had a knee replacement. I went to see the USA field hockey team play a game. Still, I was hungry for more. I had a taste of Tim's friendship and I wanted to get it to the full extent.
That's when I bit the bullet and friend-requested him.
I had considered it for a long time. Now that we were finally on good terms for once, it seemed like a good time to do so. And a day passed. Two days. Then three. I watched as under his name, text would read, "Became friends with *insert name here* and *insert name here*. Meanwhile, I was doomed to friend purgatory, where I seemed doomed to stay. Why was it always me? I was sad, but resigned to it at the same time.
The day before graduation rehearsal, one week later, he accepted. And when we left the stage at graduation, he gave me a hug and congratulated me. Wheeeeeeeeee!
And we all lived happily ever after, for once.
Because it's my life (I suppose), he didn't actually decide to become best friends with me. We did exchange a few "Happy Birthday" messages and he seemed really excited to get mine...basically meaning that he tacked on an exclamation point in his reply. And then life happened, which you'll hear about later, and for various reasons, Tim went to the side. It's still funny how we spend so much time wanting something, and then something happens, and they get pushed aside. Low and behold, he broke up with Natalie around graduation. I suppose the distance would become too much.
Still, Tim gave me a great gift: patience and a chance. He also taught me that it's good to get to know someone before deciding you like them.
Yep. Danielle was right. Years later, I found out he was a Trump supporter, who thought that low-effort memes insulting anyone he didn't agree with were funny. End of any possible interest. Bam. Kaput. Just like that.
However, this is not to say that even the alt-right can't be good people in some respects. Not many people were willing to know me as a friend, but for that time, I was grateful. When I look back on college, I still remember the good times we had, however few.
In the end, it's like many things in life. It may not go anywhere, but at least I have a story.