How I Met My Girlfriend Who Studies Chemistry: Part III

(This is the third part in a four-part series I unveiled in honor of my 100^th blog post. Click here for the first post in the series and here for the second.)

Tiffany became one of my best friends on the team, especially towards the end of my sophomore year. My parents were in the middle of a separation that eventually became a divorce, and, when I couldn’t sleep, Tiffany let me come into her room and talk or fall face first onto her bed and scream or cry, whichever I was in the mood for. When we drove anywhere in her old white Saab — the mirrors of which were constantly getting stolen — she let me sing oldies at the top of my lungs. She just rolled down the windows — and rolled up her eyes — and let me have at it. I even convinced her to sing some oldies too.

The day I helped her move out at the end of that school year, we piled a bunch of the dorm-issued blue plastic mattresses high in her room and jumped on them, sing-shouting:

“THIS MORNING, I WOKE UP WITH THIS FEELING I DIDN’T KNOW HOW TO DEAL WITH AND SO I JUST DECIDED TO MYSELF I’D HIDE IT TO MYSELF AND NEVER TALK ABOUT IT AND DIDN’T I GO AND SHOUT IT WHEN YOU WALKED INTO MY ROOM… I THINK I LOVE YOU, SO WHAT AM I SO AFRAID OF? I’M AFRAID THAT I’M NOT SURE OF A LOVE THERE IS NO CURE FOR… BUM BUM BUM BUM!”

Even then, two years before we came out, I think we both could feel some truth bubbling up in the words. Tiffany made me feel safe and excited at the same time. It just took me a while to realize that combination of feelings was love.

(To be continued... one more post to follow next week!)