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Getting Schooled (1/2)

There are many ways to meet people in the man-made valleys of Manhattan or the hipster halls of Brooklyn, but I find that it happens to me when I least expect them to, due, perhaps, to a simple desire to converse with someone who catches my attention, someone who stands out not just in the way she looks but in the way she acts. My favorites are those who conduct themselves with a sort of “quiet extravagance,” seemingly aloof but actually aware and looking for an excuse to grab hold of something interesting.

I love smart women. Even more, I love smart beautiful women. But who doesn’t? The trick—and the problem—is getting them to notice you, and when you’re in college you have the opportunity that just isn’t available later in life: time to make a first impression.

As you get older you grow a little more cynical, a little more guarded. Needless to say, this doesn’t bode well for meeting people of romantic interest, initially. But all of this may be overcome if there were just a longer window within which you get to know a person. Later in life you make first impressions at bars, parties, through online dating profiles, etc. There are some environments more conducive than others (e.g., inter-office dating, although I work in an all-male environment… so unless I switch teams inter-office dating gets me nowhere), but nothing like living in a dorm and attending classes with hundreds of your peers.

I don’t remember all of my collegiate past, but I can tell you the way I remember Maria. Her olive Italian skin and bright green eyes caught my attention on the first day of class. Her poised good looks ignited an overwhelming desire to spend time with her. I quickly learned of her good humor. I’ve always been a bit of a class clown, and she consistently rewarded my jesting wit with smiling eyes and the occasional (and endearing) snorts of laughter under her breath.

I made a point of partnering with her in writing exercises, but I was particularly successful during a trip to the museum. We had time to talk about things unrelated to class and got to know each other better. She was a really great girl. We got along well enough that I worked up the nerve to ask her out to coffee sometime (being under 21, grabbing a drink wasn’t a real possibility without moving straight to the “my place or yours” conversation).

Coffee turned into dinner.

Dinner turned into a goodnight kiss.

The goodnight kiss turned into an extended period of making out.

This was the first sign Maria was less than perfect: she couldn’t kiss.

It was as shocking to me as I’m sure it is to you, Dear Reader.

None of it was passable, not even a basic kiss on the lips. And forget about using tongue. It was a storm of uninformed technique that must have been allowed by her previous boyfriends because… well she was a smart beautiful women, and when you have all that going for you it isn’t often that you get told you’re doing something wrong.

Of course, I wasn’t going to be the first either. I also figured that it might just be some first date awkwardness or something that I might be able to address with time. I had plenty more to distract me between her pretty face, ready laugh, and skill in writing and conversation.

And, Dear Reader, let me tell you… things just went downhill from there, but I will save the rest of the disaster for another day.

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