I had my last year as an undergrad pretty much all figured out before I even started it. I was to plow through it with my head down and my eyes on my feet, essentially trying to make the year go by as quickly as possible and make it as uneventful as possible. I’m taking 23 hours, writing a thesis, and working as a Resident Advisor all at the same time. I didn’t think I would have time for anything other than school, and I had made peace with that idea over the summer. The year was supposed to be dreadfully boring.
And then he popped up.
With his cuteness and his accent and his multiple commonalities with me.
You see, a few days ago I met a guy named Tom. I heard someone was throwing a Doctor Who watch party and I was totally ready to nerd out. I went to the door of the person throwing the party and knocked. The guy who answered it looked down at me and responded to my knock with “Whot?” If you can’t tell, he said “What”. But in a British accent.
I suddenly found myself thrust into the presence of an international student from England. I hope I looked as composed as I wanted to, but when he spoke my knees went completely weak and I melted inside. And within a matter of hours my entire plan for the year was being demolished. At the moment, however, I was perfectly okay with that.
Fast forward to tonight. Tom and I have created a long list of movies (he calls them films), TV shows, and comedians that we need to watch together, and tonight we decided to cross one of the movies off of our list. While watching the movie, we got a bit snuggly. The movie ended and his arms were still wrapped around me, not wanting to let go. His breathing was steady and oddly melodic. Everything around me was peaceful, but I was internally slowly becoming a wreck.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen.” I would think to myself. I felt silly with him holding me so close and me being completely smitten about it. Silly because I was completely comfortable with him only after a few days of knowing him. Silly because I was allowing a boy to change my plans, something I learned a lesson about long ago. Silly because I kept thinking about how much there is to tell him. And then I felt afraid of telling him, because what if it pushed him away? He doesn’t know me, and I don’t know him, but that did not make it any less difficult to allow him to leave and go back to his place.
I haven’t been in a relationship in two years. I haven’t actively pursued one in two years. And suddenly the prospect of a relationship comes up and my instinct is to run away and have both ourselves to hurt. I want to rebel against this feeling of running away. I want for this to go right, just once. He will be going back in a year, and I will be graduating in a year, and so I want the time between now and then to be absolutely magical with him. And only time will tell.
Dammit, Tom. Look at what you’ve done.