Days as a Freshman: 140

Mood: Confused

I rolled a pencil back and forth on the smooth plastic-wooden café table. The coffee sitting next to me was still too hot to drink, and I needed to do something with my hands and attention. Even people watching was out of the question; with half the college still tucked away at home or on some exotic island vacation, campus was a dreary ghost town at night. Sometimes I felt like the only one.

But of course I wasn’t. Since I was meeting someone else here.

I looked up at the clock again, squinting my eyes to make out the tiny ticking hand that counted off seconds. Justin was five minutes late. I told myself it was nothing. People are late to things all the time. I was late to things all the time. There was no reason to panic, no reason to think he had decided against coming. No reason to worry.

He had invited me here, after all. He had been the one to mention meeting in the café on Sunday night to “catch-up”. It had been a quick phone call, but he had done most of the talking, and all of the suggesting. Read More »

Days as a Freshman: 50

Mood: Nervous

“Grace! Hey, come here! Have you heard?”

Sitting down next to Crystal and Naima, I set my plate of salad, tuna, and french fries on the table and pretended that I hadn’t eaten the same thing yesterday, the day before, and the day before that.

“I thought maybe you would have heard something…” Naima stirred her bowl of chocolate ice cream and chocolate sprinkles forcefully, whipping the whole thing into a soupy mess. Somehow, Naima could eat ice cream with every meal and never gain a stray pound.

“Heard what?” I looked down at my water glass before taking a swallow. Inspecting before drinking became a habit after finding a stray piece of someone else’s hair a few weeks before.

“The whole soccer team thing, idiot!” Crystal looked at me like I had two heads, and both of them were being stupid. “Last night, at their Thirsy Thursday party? People are saying a girl was assaulted.”

I stopped eating, my fork poised with nowhere to go. “At the soccer house?”

“Who knows what’s really true,” her appetite still in tact, Naima scooped a watery glob of ice cream into her mouth before continuing, “but people are totally talking about how this freshman maybe got rufied and woke up naked in one of the guys’s beds.” Read More »

I’m a sucker for acts of chivalry, however contrived they may be. Opening doors, pulling out chairs, offering his jacket on a cold evening, and yes, paying for dinner—it all makes me swoon.

Though I never agree on first date to a place where I can’t afford to pay my own way, I do firmly believe that whoever does the asking out should pay. Being the introvert that I am, this translates into my date always paying. But of course, not wanting to seem unappreciative, I always end up doing what my friends and I now refer to as “the fake purse-reach.”

As soon as the bill lands on the table, I reach into my purse and dig for my wallet, which is usually lying in a prominent location that requires no digging to reach. At this point, my date will usually offer an ardent “No, no, I’ve got it.” You know how it goes, ladies. I offer a “oh, no, please, let me at least pay my share,” while opening my wallet and casually taking out bills. My date protests once again, and I wrinkle my brow and say “Are you sure? Thank you so much!” Read More »