For the life of me, I have no idea why I went to these things. I don’t drink, nor did I even plan on it, yet that’s why my friends always went. That’s probably the reason right there. I’m a sucker for peer pressure. There I was, at an ESL Institute party, where the fellas outnumbered the ladies by about 3 to 1. Great odds if you’re a lady, but Johnnie don’t swing that way. I figured this would be another fruitless night (no pun intended). What I didn’t expect was for it to happen. That moment. That…whatever it was. Looking back, I guess I don’t ever forget it because of how I acted. Getting married before you can legally drink isn’t the best idea. It’s not that you’re marriage won’t work out, it’s that hers sure didn’t. This was only the second time I remembered seeing her. She was two years behind me in junior college, and she was just barely two years out of high school. I was in my mid-20s, after seeing the world (also known as Ft. Dix, New Jersey), and I always felt too old. Granted, I was only 5 years older than her, but back then it seemed like more. She still looked good to me, even though she was just coming off a mutually assured divorce.

I was standing there, arms folded, out of the path of the door. Loverboy was getting out his personal stash, and as he opened the door, she did what I did earlier, backed out of the way of the door - and into me.

Yeah, I was sorta petty back then: I was only interested in this mythical perfect woman. Even though I could never “settle” for any girl I knew as a girlfriend, I could always put myself down for not having one. It’s the ability to live in a world of pity that sustained me. Bored in a party - even more than usual - I just happened to be standing by the refrigerator. They were showing off the latest round of Jello shots, this combination of vodka and gelatin, a potent way to get your drunk on, with a quickness. A couple of my friends were over there, admiring the craftsmanship of the latest batch, so I was standing there watching them trying to figure out how to eat as many as they could. Just standing there. That’s when she walked over, getting her stash out of the fridge. Well, it was another one of the seemingly endless supply of guys around that was trying to get somewhere with the newly-single lady. It was an odd convergence, just one of those things… I was standing there, arms folded, out of the path of the door. Loverboy was getting out his personal stash, and as he opened the door, she did what I did earlier, backed out of the way of the door - and into me. She was a little tipsy by then, but she still had the good humor to say, “sorry,” in an apologetic way. The way her back ran into my side, and her loneliness, for whatever reason, when I didn’t move at all, she muttered an almost inaudible, “oh.” She stood still, there, leaning on me, probably the first time in weeks that a guy shared that kind of closeness with her without asking for anything. Thinking about it years later, of course she was vulnerable. Other than not moving, I didn’t really put on any moves. After about a minute, loverboy came back to swoop her warm body away. I’ll be honest, it was an incredible, intimate moment, right in the middle of a room full of people. And it was over. Later, she was sitting on the couch, between two of my friends that were both trying to get their hands on her, literally and figuratively. She looked at me, and since her foot was about two inches from mine, she very subtly kicked my foot. I realized this held out my hand, she took it, and we danced close, slow dances all night. No, that’s a lie. She kicked my foot, and I sort of backed up, then found somebody outside to talk to. We never said anything to each other, ever. Another golden opportunity, wasted. I don’t know what happened to her after that. Like a lot of people in college, she either dropped out or graduated in something in some other place on campus. I never saw her again, but I still have that moment. It still haunts me.

status: published
lastmod: '2006-12-15T02:29:46.000Z'
author: John Stansbury
type: page
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