With the wedding in FIVE DAYS -- HOLYFECKINGSHEETIT'SWEDDINGWEEK -- I've been doing a lot of thinking about everything that has happened in between the night B and I had our first date almost four years ago and today. All the things that have changed, and more importantly, the one thing that has stayed the same. You can catch up on parts 1 - 8 here.
And so it went. B moved to Philly, and spent his weekend down in Baltimore with me. That's when we had our first real fight.
The spring of my senior year, St. Patrick's Day fell on a Saturday. And for a college student, no good can ever come of that. Actually, a lot of good can come of it. And entire day's AND night's worth of good. And gah knows I love me some day drinking.
Beer was served with breakfast. Naturally, beer with breakfast pretty much sets the tone of the entire day. Some time around 4 p.m., I realized I was famished. It felt like the entire senior class was crammed into Ryan's Daughter pub, so I squeezed my way to the front of the bar and ordered two sandwiches.
When I made it back to our table, I slid one over to B.
"Oh awesome, thank you SO much. What is it?"
"Chicken? Oh I don't want this. I don't even LIKE chicken."
"What do you mean you don't like chicken? Yes you do."
"No. I. don't." He pushed the plate back in my direction and folded his arms across his chest. An entire table of heads turned from B back to me.
Oh no he dih'nt.
I shot up from my seat. "I GOT YOU THIS CHICKEN SANDWICH AND YOU'RE GOING TO FUCKING EAT THIS CHICKEN SANDWICH. YOU SHOULD BE GRATEFUL FOR THIS SANDWICH AND YOU DON'T EVEN CARE."
"Fuck ... your chicken sandwich." B stood up too and drunk eyes locked drunk eyes.
So I did what came natural after six hours of drinking green beer. I picked up the chicken sandwich, hurled it at B's face, and stormed off into the bathroom to cry my beer tears out to my girlfriends.
"THIS was your first fight?" Talia laughed as she held my head with one hand and her beer with the other. "THIS fight? This fight over a chicken sandwich? I really hope we all remember this tomorrow, because this is the best first fight I've ever seen in my life."
This fight -- this ridiculous, teary, chicken-throwing fight -- set the tone for how most disagreements between me and B would turn out throughout our relationship (with thrown food and a lot of laughter the next morning).
And for the record, B loves chicken.
Senior year flew by. My friends and I shared so many memories -- good and bad -- that I count that year as one of the most important years of my entire life.
We made it to graduation (still drunk, mind you). And if you're in college now thinking that that sounds like a good idea, I tell you now that it is not. And B, the one who actually dragged all three of us out of bed that morning, will probably agree.
After graduation, I moved in with B in a tiny attic apartment on the shirt collar of Philadelphia. I got a job right down the street as a writer. And B eventually got a job as a tennis pro.
We got a dog. We lost a dog. We got another dog. I was depressed. But eventually I got happy. And it seemed like life was perfect. That's when B asked me to marry him.
I thought I knew everything there was to know about the dynamic between me and B. I figured not much could change since we had already been living together. But in tiny, inexplicable ways, everything changed ...
... To be continued.
Stay tuned this week for the VERY LAST INSTALLMENT of True Lurve on Campus. BECAUSE WE'RE GETTING MARRIED, YA'LL.