Rodney and I have been in a relationship for almost half of our lives. That's hard to believe. It's been a journey that has taught me a lot and I'm still learning. I love all of the memories, even the fights. And believe me, there have been plenty of fights. We spent a lot of our early relationship at school, at NSU in Tahleuquah, OK. We were one of those staple couples that could be seen all over campus either playing or fighting. We hung out between classes in the game room, playing pool or air hockey. We flirted childishly, teasing or rough housing. Or, just as often, we were mad at each other, stomping all over the campus arguing, either storming off or chasing the other down to make our point.
One particular semester, there was this guy. He was in my Algebra class and he sat behind me. He was always dressed up in a sweater or collared shirt. He had gel in his hair and had very rosey cheeks. He was always talking to me and following me out of class. He was nice enough, but I hated having him around me because Rodney would sometimes see him with me and be annoyed. Who was this guy? Rodney had a class after my Algebra class, so that was usually my time to get a few assignments done or do some studying...if it weren't for this guy. I mentioned to him that I had a boyfriend, but he wouldn't shake. It didn't seem to matter.
He treated me like I was his new friend. He wasn't overtly hitting on me; he was just very friendly... and he talked and talked. He was, however, very forward about the fact that he was looking for a wife. And he was always telling me how much money his family had. It seems like the story he told me about the money had something to do with toilet paper which I found a little amusing. I thought it was very tacky how he was always gloating about "being a millionaire." I thought he was a jerk for telling me he was looking for a wife, like he was the most eligible bachelor in the state and was accepting applications and interviewing random and worthy young ladies in his classes. I remember thinking he was probably a big liar because he talked so much. It seemed to me that the more a person talked, the more full of crap they were. I found myself tuning him out and wishing he would go away. One day, I said, "I have to study, so I'm going to the library. See you later." And he still kept following me. I am not well-practiced at being rude or blunt with people like him. Was he deaf?
So I sat in a chair at the library and he sat right next to me. I buried my face in my notebook and he still kept talking. I finally said, "Hey, I have a speech I have to prepare for and you're disturbing me."
"Well, I'll help you," he offered. I rolled my eyes and let out a big breath of air.
Oh my God, this guy! He was just looking at me so nicely, smiling and appearing to be helpful. So I didn't have the heart to be rude to him. I figured I didn't have much of a choice in the matter, so I started to practice my speech on him, doing my very best to look at him and not my page, appear conversational...and remember my next point. And he was eating it up. He had this huge grin on his face the whole time.
Enter Rodney. Perfect timing. All of a sudden, a rush of air blew past me and I saw him. He stormed past me while shooting me the meanest look I had ever seen. Oh, no, this was terrible. I am not about to lose him. Not over this guy. I loaded up my back pack as fast as I could and left This Guy sitting there with his grin. I chased Rodney all the way across campus, trying to explain to him what had happened, how I didn't really want to talk to This Guy...."It isn't what it looks like," was the worst cliche I could think of and Rodney wasn't listening anyway.
The next day I finally got the courage to tell This Guy how I felt after class. "You're really nice, but you're bothering me. You won't find a wife if you're busy following me around. Plus, you're causing problems for me and my boyfriend." He only seemed a little upset and said he understood.
As I turned to walk away, I saw Rodney standing there with a forgiving smile on his face.
