As a freshman, you’ll learn that there is a slew of potential boyfriends, hook-ups, ”just friends” prowling this campus. (For a look at a few of the types of men you’ll meet, take a peek at Shannon Ireland’s article “The 8 Guys You’ll Date at IU”) When I met my first college b
oyfriend, however, I made a stop at Stage Five Clinger, took a turn past Workaholc and parked at Grad Student.
For many of us, Grad Students are exotic creatures. They carry books that they actually read; wear suits that they don’t squirm uncomfortably in, and occasionally teach our classes.
I, a virgin to the charms of the grad student, met mine on the bus to the airport. One thing that they don’t tell you about grad students is how well they can speak. I mean, really speak. When he talked, it was like hypnotism. I couldn’t do anything but nod and smile. I knew instantly that this was someone I wanted to continue talking to.
But, alas, the bus ride ended.
We exchanged numbers, I tried to play it cool, replayed in my head everything that I’d said to him and then realized that the entire bus ride, I was wearing a mini-dress with a Walmart sweatshirt over it with my copy of He’s Just Not That Into You glued to my hand, front side up.
I was so mortified that when he called me not six hours later, I was completely taken aback. We made plans to go out when we both returned home after the weekend.
We met for Thai somewhere down on Fourth St. The date was rather standard. We talked, we ate, we walked. Then, at the entrance to my dorm, he kissed me.
Another thing that I didn’t personally anticipate was him being a good kisser. I’d never dated anyone over a year older than me and I’ve grown accustomed to the clumsy fumblings of inexperienced teenage boys.
Throughout the next few weeks, we met a few times every week for coffee, walks, dinner.
“Time heals everything” was never truer for me than when it began to heal the effects he had on me when he spoke. When he came over to my dorm to hang out one night, I began to actually hear and understand what he was saying. From then on I began to notice a few things about our conversations: he was dull, a little strange, and he was way too smart for me.
From that date forward, I avoided talking to him. I’d egged all of this on for so long with all of my smiles and nods and now I had to do the only thing I knew how to do: deflect.
I deflected every text and phone call. I ditched three planned dates, all because I realized that I wasn’t smart enough for him. Something that he hadn’t realized yet, himself.
In the end, I realized that besides the fact that he was a littlepretentious, talkative, and much too intelligent for me – he was also just plain wrong for me. There’s something about too intense of an infatuation and an eight-year age gap that made me feel really insignificant and misplaced.
Oh, well… on to the next one.