I met him in the weight room at the men’s intramural building. At first he just stared at me. And then one day he approached. He did not introduce himself, he just started bantering. I was cordial but clearly disinterested.
He continued to approach daily. He didn’t ask my name, just called me “Face”.
I was focused on working out and found him annoying.
And then I found him mildly amusing.
Eventually he wore me down. I agreed to dinner.
I was dressed in clean jeans and a cute t-shirt – my college date uniform – when he arrived to pick me up.
“Is that what you’re wearing? I’m taking you somewhere nice.”
Back into my room I huffed to change. The pickings were slim. I was a college student who had to ration her bagels for crying out loud. I should have just gone back out there and told him to take me as is, but I managed to scrape together an outfit.
“Somewhere nice” turned out to be the Playboy Club.
This time it was his turn to try again.
We ended up back near campus at the Pantree.
I looked at the menu for naught – he told me what I could order.
He started talking about how good-looking our children would be because of my “face.”
Then he reached his fork across the table and started EATING FROM MY PLATE.
I was no longer hungry.
Needless to say, the date did not end with a kiss.
We continued to chat in the gym.
He asked me to accompany him to a resort in Colorado Springs for a medical conference.
“Just as a friend,” he promised. “All the other docs are taking a spouse or a date.”
A long weekend at a posh resort in Colorado Springs sounded kinda’ nice (I must admit). I finally agreed. Until I learned we would be sharing a room.
“All the nurses at the hospital say you’re crazy. They say I’m one of the most eligible bachelors in Lansing.”
He was thirty and an established doctor. He knew what his life was going to be. I was a 20 year old college student with possibilities still in front of me. I certainly wasn’t ready to be his good-looking-baby machine.
“Maybe you should date one of them.”