|Thomas and Me, in the first picture we took together. P.S. his sister made me that ring!|
It was the beginning of May, exactly one week before I would leave school for my hometown three hours away. The last day of classes is a huge party night, and because of my recent "being free and not caring" epitome, I was going to enjoy it. The next day was a free day, called study day, and finals didn't begin until the day after that.
My angle of the night:
I first went to a newspaper staff party, and stayed there until about 9. After that I thought my night was complete. I truly had zero expectations for the evening. I thought I'd curl up with a blanket and a chick flick and get some well-deserved rest. But some of my friends wanted to continue the night, and so I went for it. I was wearing an old tanktop and jeans and my hair was HUGE so I put in a ponytail. Let me just say...not my best look.
First we went to an event here called Late Night BU at the gym. There's food and music and things, so it's worth a stop. We went and hung out for awhile, I ran into some people I knew, and then we left to go to a frat party. (Late Night BU becomes important later.)
When we arrived at the frat house, it was packed. Crawling with people. I was loving having a good time and being out with my friends, but I didn't want to dance with anyone. (i.e. guys.) I wanted to dance with my friends and not have to worry about anything. One boy even politely asked if he could share a dance with me (he said it in those words!) and I turned him down. I felt bad about it, but I really, truly did not want anyone up in my space, getting in the way of my fabulous dance moves. (Awful. I have no rhythm.)
But then, I saw someone out of the corner of my eye, kind of watching me. My friend told me he was watching me, so I glanced back and recognized him as Tom. Then I continued my dancing. Then he was talking to his friend about something, and I saw him come toward me. I got very nervous. He asked me to dance, and I said...sure!
When you attend a frat party, or most parties for that matter, you know the kind of dancing that happens. Straight up booty grinding, pop, lock and droppin' dirty moves. (Sorry, I'm really not hip enough to know the right lingo.) But not Tom and me. I vividly remember the moment I decided that he, and therefore we, were different. So we danced seventh-grade, arms around the neck style.
We danced for awhile, yelling into each others' ears over the music. "How are you?" "What have you been up to?" "Where do you work?" "What's your major again?"
My drunk friends kept interrupting, but it was still a special moment. And a critical one. He said "We should hang out sometime, if you're not too busy." He said it as we were parting, and I knew I had to make a choice. I would be leaving in one week. I could have walked away, said something offhand like "yeah, sure," and possibly never talk to him again. Instead, I asked if he wanted my number. We ended up texting more that night, the next day and the day after that. We went mini golfing on friday, stargazing Saturday, and by the time I left Tuesday, he asked me to be his girlfriend. I spent most of the summer away from him, but it still worked out. We've been together ever since.
The story gets more interesting, however.
Tom's angle of the night, as told to me:
Turns out, Tom had been jonesing for me since our speech class. (That's a word right? Like 'crushing'? I seriously hope that's what it means.)
While I assumed he thought I was just weird, he was too shy to talk to me. But two years can make a big difference. Over the course of those semesters, he became confident. And the night we danced, he decided he should finally approach me.
He was out with his friends at Late Night BU, and he saw me there with my friends. He also saw me leave. But he didn't know where exactly I was going. The party we ended up at was a good guess, because that's where most people were. See, Tom is shy. His friends, for the most part, are not. Two of them made a pact with each other to get phone numbers that night. So they entered the party and were on a mission.
But they failed, and after a short while, they left the party. Meanwhile, Tom had seen me there. He didn't want to leave.
They were walking back to a friend's apartment, and on the way there, he was talking to one of his best friends, convincing him (I don't know how) that they needed to go back to the party. So they did. And then he asked me to dance.
And guess who was the only one to get a phone number that night?