Every now and then I’ll have a moment; a breakdown, an
outburst (getting triggered as some would call it) or I’ll just find myself in
a funk. When this happens I’m lucky
enough to have one or two friends who care enough to say a little bit more than
"Pray on it" and are willing to tell me in no uncertain terms “STOP
LIVING IN THE PAST!” I try, but I can’t
always get a handle on my thoughts. More
often than not these walks down memory lane aren’t always pleasant, but once in
a blue moon I find a few roses to smell along the way, experiences that often
make for writing exercises such the one you are about to read.
(For the sake of privacy I’m changing the name of the few
people involved)
Wingate University. Fall 2007:
I met Dina on campus a good week before class—that four or
five days students have to move their shit in, make sure they’ve got their
classes added, dropped, or at least have a portion of their tuition paid. My friend Drew was giving her the 10 cent
tour while I was hurrying along to do whatever was on my to-do list that
day. He introduced me to her as well as two
other young women. As most people tend
to do we spent the first few seconds sizing each other up. Safe to say she was pretty easy on the
eyes: A tall (5’7 to the best of my
recollection), willowy, ebon-hued woman sporting deep brown eyes, a mini-fro
and a rather dignified gait. (I admit to
having a fondness, hell a weakness for this particular look!)
Classes began soon enough and the first week ended with a
movie night in the quad. All the
adjacent dorms were camped out on the lawn to watch a film on a theatre-sized
screen, and I got an opportunity to become better acquainted with Dina and her
suite mates, a happy-go-lucky Asian girl and a shy but cheerful white girl,
both of whom haled from upstate Carolina.
Within a week she had given me a pet name (an inside joke based on a
picture I took that same evening). That
should have been my first clue. The rest
of the semester plodded along; I would spend the day on campus, go home to
sleep, get up and do the whole thing all over again. Dina began to express further interest after
discovering I lived off campus (albeit with my sister). We spent a great deal f time picking one
another’s brain and I found she was a Linkin Park fan much to my elation. She
even let me borrow their most recent album at that time for one of my
workouts. I enjoyed passing the time
with her and it showed plain as day.
Sometime later (coincidently after the death of a family
member) she proved to be a source of comfort.
That same day she invited me to a movie; it was a student group activity
but in hindsight I probably should have read it better: She had taken the time to ask me, sit with
me, and share the Oreo cookies she had snuck into the theatre with me. I can’t remember who asked first but at some
point we had dinner at Tokyo Bistro and came to find out one of her suite mates
(whom I had as also began becoming more acquainted with) was a waitress
there. Throughout the meal and
conversation I had been under the impression that we were on a date—WRONG! As things wound down I was all set to pay her
way (a blatant attempt to impress her further) and to my utter shock she pulls
up right beside me with her card. This
earned her a SOLID 8 on the crush-o-meter.
By the end of the academic term she had made the decision to
transfer to another university. At some
point she opened up about being as attracted to me as I was to her during our
time together and all I could do was shrug and feel some pity her being fearful
of the opportunity we both missed.
Anyone who knows me knows I’ve never been too keen on marriage, but if
given the chance at that time, I’d have surely given this woman my last
name. This is hardly a lovelorn
exaggeration, but a statement of sheer fact.
--Ryan, April 2017
