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In the fall of 2002, during the fall semester of my sophomore year at UT, I enrolled in an archery class. It didn't count toward my degree, and I would have preferred fencing or ballet, but I couldn't fit the latter two into my schedule. Besides, despite being clumsy, being around flying arrows was arguably safer than being around swords (even rubber tipped ones), plus I already had one ballet injury under my belt. Archery it was. On my first day, I made eye contact with one of my classmates, Archery Class Guy (ACG). We instantly clicked. A returning student, he was about a decade older than I, but no matter. At the first opportunity, we began conversing casually, like old friends. I never got around to mentioning my on-again, off-again relationship with the Republican. I would never have cheated (alas, I was apparently alone in that), but it didn't matter ACG and I never flirted anyway, but I suspected interest based on the way he looked at me. Knowing full well that "he looks like he's interested" is tenuous and frequently wishful thinking, I shrugged it off. The semester ended, and we didn't see each other again. A couple of months later, I ended it for good with the Republican. Rather, he said he wanted a break, which I concluded meant he wanted to fuck somebody else but not break up with me to do it, or, as I discovered much later, he most likely already had. I was pleased to finally be rid of him and told myself never again to pursue a guy after multiple break ups. I took the spring semester of my sophomore year off to work full time at Wendy's so I could afford to return to school in the fall. Throughout most of my junior year, I crushed on and dated other film students, but by the end of my junior year, I was unattached. I thought about ACG from time to time, and I imagined I saw him one morning on campus. I was heading to the basement in CMB (the Radio-TV-Film building) at some offensively early hour of the morning one Saturday to work on audio post production for a grad student's film, and I thought I saw ACG on the Drag. In retrospect, I was quite sure it wasn't him, but what the hell; it gave me an excuse to look him up and say, "Hey, I saw you." Which was exactly what I did. To my delight, he responded with, "Yes, I did stumble across campus this morning after too much tequila last night. How have you been?" I was thrilled that he remembered me, and we began a regular correspondence. Before long, ACG suggested meeting up on campus. We met for drinks in my daily haunt, the Cactus Café, and that turned into more meetings. He still hadn't actually hit on me, and I began wondering whether he were interested. Due to the age difference, I was unsure of my own interest and as such said nothing. I finally got a clue when he replied to an email of mine in which I had rejected every other idea for our next meet up with "That leaves Scrabble and sex. Kidding." Though it was a passing remark, it hit me like a thunderclap. Of course he was interested, at least in one thing. He didn't say anything else for a while, but in another email when I complained about a creepy guy in the Cactus making inappropriate remarks to me, ACG jokingly offered to grab me and kiss me in front of him. I didn't say anything, but I wondered if it would be such a bad idea. I pondered the age difference again. I wondered if he were interested at all or only in one thing. After all, all I had to go on were a couple of joking remarks, and I wasn't interested in a fling, nor was I seriously interested in him. I got more of a clue one night I was giving him a ride. He walked me back to my car, and I dropped him off a little ways from wherever he was going. As we sat in the car just before he got out, he slowly reached forward and brushed a strand of hair out of my face, smiling softly. My heart skipped a beat. That was the answer. I could not bring myself to pursue it further, though, and the night ended uneventfully. That was the last time we hung out in person. Our friendship ended shortly afterward. ACG and I talked on the phone as well as via email and hanging out in person, and one evening shortly after the incident in my car, he called me. During the course of our conversation, he brought up his usage of marijuana. I knew he smoked, which was one of the reasons I wasn't all that interested in him. I disapproved of the use of any drug, which he well knew, and he asked me what I thought about it. I told him. "No," he said. What? Oh. He wasn't satisfied with my disapproval. Unfortunately, he wasn't willing to let it go. He ranted, and I ranted. "Lauren, if we're going to be friends—" he began. No. That was the end of that. I hung up, and we never spoke again. Shortly afterward, I began dating V8, which, while disastrous, at least didn't involve anything more illicit than sex toys. |