The Freshman Experiment

Music: Collective Soul – Run

Mr.NG newly christened Wishy-Washy

Two days into winter session he called me to come over and I sat on his bed, messing up his folded clothes while he told me:

“Christine, I feel like we’re progressing towards a serious, committed relationship. The crazy thing is that I want that to happen but I also think I should be alone. If we’re together for a long time we’ll eventually break-up and then we’ll both have to nurse broken hearts and it’ll just suck. I think we’d have an awesome time together — it’d be great! I can’t see you anymore though.”

I gave him my biggest What the fuck are you talking about? face and went to my room. The last time I cried over a boy was a year ago when The Ex didn’t send a stampede over just my heart but my entire body. When we had broken up I had gotten physically ill. Wishy’s half-assed break up didn’t warrant the same dramatic response but I did cry a little into my pillow. The following days I talked TK’s ear off about the situation. Whenever I shut the fuck up about it for more than a minute he filled the silence with unwavering support for me and I realized that if I had TK I didn’t really need WW. Before he had ever come, before he had ran down my hallway, caught me on my way to the bathroom and kissed me I had been living well without a boy. My friends here have made me smile and love who I am; and if I’m missing a warm body, well, I can just snuggle up with one of the Denise Girls.

In just four days I had recovered and was ready to be out of the Gray Area that Wishy and I were trying to function in. Then in true romantic comedy fashion I opened my door one night and he was standing there, leaning against the wall with his dirty blonde hair tickling his eyelashes. I crossed my arms while he told me:

“All those uncertain feelings are still here, Christine, but you outweigh all of that. You’re amazing, you’re beautiful. You make me feel amazing. I don’t care what happens; in fact, I wish for all those things to happen.”

He then kissed me without really kissing me because my lips did nothing. I told him I had to think and that’s where things are. Part of me wants to drag him along and then another wants to run upstairs to his bed and finish counting his freckles. I’m a big believer in simplicity. I like him, he likes me, and so we should spend as much time as we can with each other. But he went and mucked things up and now…I just don’t know.

TK
If I could write TK’s Match.com profile it would be something like this.

Will make you smile even when you don’t feel like it, especially when you don’t feel like it. Doesn’t mind telling you if your shirt doesn’t match those jeans but will then wait fifteen minutes while you try on every single top in your closet. Dances to all types of music, including bad rap but his iPod is the only one that can be played at a party. He will let you sleep in his bed if the heat doesn’t work in your room; will stop talking to his mom or sister to give you a hug. Bring a box of Quaker Oats oatmeal to get to his heart. Tends to fall for the closet gays or boys who scream GAY GAY GAY but won’t admit to it themselves. So you must have all ready accepted the fact that men are your preference before courting my dear, old TK. DISCLAIMER: While I’m only 5’2 I will seriously maim you if you hurt him.

Wishy’s indecisiveness has momentarily steered me away from my one mission which is Operation Get TK Laid. At a party he will scout out the potentials and I will either approve or disapprove. Man, we’re creepy.

Christine

I’ve decided to get training for the Sexual Assault and Rape Hotline (SARH) at LAC. Training sessions are intense – twice a week for two hours. I’ve also volunteered at the local homeless shelter and I’ve decided to work with the children. On Saturday I have seven hours of training to go through (!!!) but I’m excited. I’m finally filling up my schedule, so hopefully you readers won’t think I’m a lazy ass who sits around and complains about boys all day.

Music: Cat Power – The Greatest

1. Some days I will put you, Lightblue, in the most obvious places: as a bookmark, in the fold of my sock, or the right pocket of my favorite jeans. It’s the crumpled yearbook photo that I found on our living room floor a year ago. It was taken two months before your face was framed by hospital sheets. I hide you so loosely that with every move there’s the threat and the hope you will flutter out of these places. And you do sometimes. You stare up at me from the rain puddle or the front steps of the student center, and I will bend down and I will pick you up and I will remember you all day, all day.

2. I do this thing where I open my window and lean out into the night, the darkness covering the scars on my dangling legs. Then I will think about TK and how he “gets me” and has changed me. I will think about my tiny dorm room that has turned into a home. I will think about the lighted house miles in front of me, sandwiched between the shedding trees, wondering who lives there. Then I’ll smile and marvel at the fact that I am not lonely here in these woods.

3. Mr. NG, you have twenty-three freckles on your left arm. You turn seven times in the night – I know because you wake me every time. You kiss my bottom lip. You leave me alone when I need it, and you know when to stay. I’ve lost my battle with reason and caution. I slip into your bed and let you cover me with warmth. And last night when I looked up at you in your sweatpants and t-shirt, when I grabbed your face and asked “Why are you so nice?” I wanted to say something more meaningful. Not “I love you” because I don’t but I think I wanted to say that I could.

Music: The Archies – Sugar, Sugar

All the klutzes of the world have congregated to LAC; safely stowed away in the woods so they can’t cause any harm to those blessed with excellent vestibular systems.

There have been trips, spills, and crashes about three times a week in the dining halls. At this point, no on even looks up from his meal when the familiar sound of a plate breaking rings through the building. I also have an embarrassing lack of balance and I’m making it my mission to get through freshman year without having a major disaster in one the D-halls. So I’ve taken these preventive measures:

1. Hold my tray obnoxiously close to my body.
2. Stand and look for an open table instead of mindlessly circling around, trying to find an empty seat.
3. Don’t ever wear heels to meals.

I’m crossing my fingers for a good, spill-free year.