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In reviewing my dating history, it often strikes me how spectacularly awful timing is. Not mine necessarily, but just life's in general. Of course, "awful" can mean "just plain strange" or even "inappropriately hilarious." For example, I met the Writer the day after a disastrous attempt by a friend to set me up with the Sound Engineer, and I met TCR the day after I dumped the Writer. This story is full of incidents of similarly hysterically awful timing. In the spring of 2002, my freshman year at UT, I was in the middle of my tumultuous, on-again off-again relationship with the Republican. The Republican, hesitant to relinquish his imagined status as a rake, encouraged me to date other guys, but only so he wouldn't feel guilty for seeing other girls, or at least trying to. I wasn't interested in dating anyone else—I only wanted to date one guy at a time, specifically, him. I told him as much one evening, but he still told me to seek out other guys. Not twenty-four hours later, it happened. I was sitting on a bench in Welch Hall, the chemistry building on the UT campus, doing some reading as I waited for a film screening for one of my film classes to begin. The film screening was not in the chemistry building, but it was nearby, and I selected Welch partly because it had more room in which to sit and study without interruption by anyone I knew, and also because I had a thing for chemistry students and was always trying to sneak peeks at cute nerds. Tragically, all the chemistry majors had better things to do with their time than notice pretty girls, and/or they were too shy to talk to them. Big, burly Navy ROTC guys were not. Oh yes. I was sitting on a bench in Welch Hall one evening, reading and waiting for my film screening, when I heard, "Excuse me, can I sit here?" Barely glancing up, I saw a huge guy standing over me. Huge as in, he probably worked out twice a day, and his biceps were the size of my head. Not my type. I hate gym rats. Assuming he just needed a place to sit for a little while before heading off somewhere else (say, the gym), I replied, "Sure," and continued reading. "I'm [the Navy ROTC Guy]," he said. Oh. "I'm Lauren," I said, not wanting to be polite but not wanting to be rude to the biceps. There ensued a brief conversation during which I tried desperately to continue with my reading and get him to leave. I relaxed and enjoyed talking to him for a second—this second. I mentioned a friend of mine who was in Navy ROTC. "Oh, I'm in that," NROTCG said. Aha. "My boyfriend used to be," I said. NROTCG's eye twitched, and he stood up and said, "Well, Lauren, it was nice to meet you, but I have to be getting back now." "Uh, nice to meet you too," I said. I stared blankly at the page in my book for the next ten minutes, gave up, and went to my film screening. I messaged the Republican about it when I got home. We talked on instant messenger most evenings, and tonight I took the opportunity to prove that guys besides him found me attractive. The Republican never indicated that he found me unattractive; on the contrary, he complimented me frequently, but not without creating a definite sense that I was hard up for male company. It was a paradox, yet he managed it. "You should have said yes!" he encouraged me. 'Bull,' I thought. "Really?" I asked skeptically. "Yes, absolutely. He was interested, and you're cute. I think it would be good for you." "Eh, I don't know . . . " "Why not?" "I wasn't really that interested. I don't want to see other people. I've told you this." "Listen, not every date has to lead to something. You don't really do social dating. I get the feeling that you're dating because you're looking for the guy." He was right there. "But a lot of dating, especially when you're younger, is about just going out and having fun. You ought to give it a shot." I changed the subject hastily, but I chewed it over. I wasn't interested in NROTCG, but I was interested in calling the Republican's bluff. I drafted an email to NROTCG that very evening, asking if he'd like to meet for coffee. To my delighted horror, he replied. "I'm really busy with tests this week, but I'll get back to you on that cup of joe, all right?" He never got back to me, to my annoyed relief. I thought it was because he remembered my boyfriend, but perhaps not. I told the Republican that I had emailed NROTCG and asked him out. As I suspected, the Republican was appalled. "What!" "Well, you told me to." "Yes, but I didn't think you'd actually do it!" I roared with derisive laughter. That was, as I expected, the last time any mention was made of an open relationship. The Republican apparently took it quite hard, for, a week or two later, he told me he'd bumped into a friend of his from Navy ROTC. The Republican was no longer in the unit, but he had a friend who still was. The Republican opted to do a little spying through his friend. "Is there a guy in the unit named [NROTCG]?" the Republican asked. "Yeah; he's fucking fast," replied his friend, referring to NROTCG's considerable physical strength. "You're not kidding; he's moving in on my girlfriend," snipped the Republican. "You're dating Marley?" . . . "What? No, my girl's name is Lauren." "Oh . . . that's weird, because he's dating a chick in the unit named Marley." At that point, the Republican made his excuses and left, relaying the conversation to me later. I was disgusted and relieved not to have heard back from NROTCG. Needless to say, the story featured prominently in our relationship for the next week or so. The Republican told me he had actually seen Miss Marley on campus. He saw some girl in an NROTC uniform and saw the last name on her tag and recognized it. He said he wasn't impressed. That wasn't particularly kind, but at least it explained NROTCG's roving eye. I relayed the whole story to a friend of mine in NROTC, who knew her and agreed that it was an unkind, but not wholly inaccurate, comment. He said she had done well at the Ironman competition the previous weekend and changed the subject. The next day, I sat in my government class discussion section and happened to glance at the notebook of the girl sitting beside me. Yup. "Oh, you're Marley?" I blurted out. Oops. "Uh . . . yeah," she said. "Oh . . . uh . . . " Great, nice going, Lauren; let's see how you get out of this one. "My friend ___ mentioned you. Um, he said you did well in the Ironman thing." She stared. "You're dating [NROTCG], right?" "Oh, no . . . just friends," she said, looking a little sad. Apparently the break up was recent. Probably the day before. Christ, what timing I have. "Oh . . . [My friend] mentioned that you two were dating." Judging by the look on her face, she probably thought my friend had a huge crush on her. Oh well, that would be his problem. This was mine. Thank God the TA began speaking at that moment, and I escaped. Neither of us ever mentioned it again. I never heard from NROTCG again, though I learned that he graduated UT, got commissioned, and got married. I wonder how long it will last. |