Friday, October 21, 2011

I'm fun. I'm cool.

He didn't call.

How could he not call? I'm fun, I'm cool. I left a note. On a car. That's something someone fun & cool would do, right?

It's fine. It's totally fine. Whatever. Like I said- I'm fun... I'm cool.

I was showered, my work was done, and there was no way that after the dreadful date the day before was I going to sit around my sorority house feeling sorry for myself. There was no box to check in regards to my like-ability. It was not written in Crayola. No love had been confessed and I was surely not a secret admirer.

Nothing to be embarrassed about; it was just a note from a girl who wanted a free beer from a boy.

There is no better time and place to be a co-ed than springtime in Athens. It was springtime & I was a co-ed. Summer was around the corner and I would be moving to Morton Ave- my first time out of the sorority house.

I pull on my sexiest jeans, heels, and halter top. I make a plan that involves shooting pool at the Chi Phi house before heading downtown. I'm running out the door and heading to my Miata with the Nokia cell in my hand calling Miranda.

Back in my room, the phone rings.

He's calling! It's Husband! My purse hits the floor with the Nokia and my shoes. I'm rounding the corner back to my room before the second ring. Miranda is coming through the ear piece, "hello? hello?" from the floor.

Be cool... be cool...oh, geez, why am I too cheap for caller id? 


Hello? (breezy- I can be breezy. This is great. I'm already dressed with plans, so we can meet up later. That shows that this girl does not wait around the house to be called. Fun & cool people make their own plans.)

"Hey, Kid. How'd the date go yesterday?" the boy from his fraternity house a state away asked.

Husband? Husband Who?

"Hey, You. Awful. Just awful. He was miserable. Like 10 kinds of miserable. Who forgets their wallet when they are on a date at the Augusta National? Hell, who forgets their wallet- period? He did not even say thank you. To top off the last two days .... [insert story of the note on Husband's car here]....What really kills me? I have this KKG/Theta date night next week and I am not taking my cousin again. People are starting to talk. Ugh, I might skip it. It's not like I have to be in attendance to get the T-Shirt. But, Woodstick's playing and I hear they're great. Maybe I'll call [my cousin] and see if he is free."

A deep laugh over the long distance call and an unpredicted response, "Hey- take me. I'll be home next week. It'd be fun. I mean, unless you want to call T.D.J. [Terrible Date {Name}] back and see if he can make an even bigger ass out of himself. I'll spring for the drinks."

Wait? What? Was I getting asked out on a date? To my own social? Nope- just friends. Just. Friends. A bottle of those feelings had been corked up pretty tightly the last six months and there was no way I wanted a long distance relationship. Friendships are easier, anyway.

"Really? You'd go?" [what kind of question was that? Of course he'd go. I'm fun & COOL- remember?]

The week came and went. The Boy showed up at the house of a friend. A high five and we were out the door. We made a deal to date for the summer and be done. Long distance relationships are ridiculous and impractical in college. Four years later, we would still be together and making plans.

If you want to make God laugh, make a plan. In my case, God has laughed a lot.

The second greatest summer kicked off with a bang. I was wrapped up in my new girlfriends, making summer friends, working on my tan and putting some cash in my checking account. I had a great boyfriend who was not a terrible date, like all the 862 other terrible first dates I had been on. Frank and I would hang out on the porch when Miranda or The Boy were not around, eating turkey sandwiches and admiring the field in front of us that was growing houses.

The summer was concerts, fireworks, beach trips, running through open grass fields at night and all things mischievous. I learned how to skip stones and took all day fishing trips with my dad in the deep sea. I'd snap more than one fishing line and filet my own catch. I would be debbing in three months and there was dress shopping to be done. My little red Miata flew all over I-20 to the beach, back to Athens, and everywhere in between.

I forgot about the note. I forgot about Husband. There was too much else to do.

It seemed, that he forgot about me, too.

Did I mention that Frank was an SAE with Husband?

3 comments:

BettieBoyd said...

Edge of chair. Worrying.

Family Snodgrass said...

Love reading this story in all its fleshed-out glory. Also love that all the bands you mention are the same ones I danced to through college. Aaaaaand, I really love my Mama's comments!

Anonymous said...

Love the historical perspective--nb