The Courtship

The Not Liking

“It’s easier to resist at the beginning than at the end.” – Leonardo da Vinci

Please don’t judge me as you read this. I am a completely different person than the one portrayed in this story (for the most part). The truth is, I was an asshole in high school and pretty much most of college. Everyone knows this including me. I had issues. Let’s leave it at that. Celina and I did not have a fairy tale romance story. We were not high school sweethearts. We did not meet at a party and fall deeply in love to spend the rest of our lives together. The truth is, we barely knew each other, and what we did know, we didn’t like. She didn’t like me, and I didn’t like her. And we were both OK with that. Celina was two years behind me in school. We ran with different crowds, had different friends and liked different things. I liked things of the liquid variety and imbibed quite often. Celina preferred things of the plant variety and did the same. We were polar opposites. Now you might understand Celina’s apprehension if you had known me then. I was quick-witted, devilishly handsome, team captain and valedictorian of my Senior class. Truthfully, I was goofy looking, made bad hair choices, was a “C” student at best, didn’t apply myself and was angry. I played football and ran track just to get out of class. I didn’t take life seriously. But I was justified to myself, because back then, the only approval I needed was mine.

The Noticing

“There’s a difference between beauty and charm. A beautiful woman is one I notice. A charming woman is one who notices me.“ – John Erskine

It was a Friday. Everyone at Southeastern Louisiana University (Go Lions!) went home on the weekends. Celina’s friend Melanie asked if they could catch a ride home with me. I had borrowed my cousin Jimmy’s 1970 Pontiac GTO that week because my car was in a perpetual state of being broken down. The air conditioning did not work so we had to ride the 40 miles back to Slidell, LA with the windows down. My “weekday girlfriend”…let’s call her “Charlize Theron” was riding in front passenger seat with her laundry hamper in lap. She was not happy that she had to ride with the hamper in her lap because I had agreed to let two other females ride home with us. The reason Charlize was my “weekday girlfriend” was because she already had a full-time boyfriend she had been dating for the past four years. She went back to him on the weekends. And I was OK with that because I had my weekends free. Remember the first sentence in this blog about not judging me? Celina was riding in back passenger seat wearing blue jean shorts and a white short-sleeved blouse that was apparently missing a button or two. I strategically adjusted my rear view mirror to have a clear view of my not-so-welcome passenger. As we drove with the windows down, I glanced into the rear view to see Celina staring out the window as we drove. “Wow”, I thought…”She’s pretty cute.” Then another thought came into my head. “Wow” I thought…”She has no idea her blouse is blowing wide open and I’m getting a free show.” As the highway matinee continued I almost ran off the road a couple of times because I wasn’t paying attention. “Charlize” would reach over, backhand me in the arm and ask “What the hell is wrong with you?” Every once in awhile Celina would catch me looking. A couple of times I think I caught her glancing back at me in the rear view. I think we might have had an eye make-out session, but I’m not sure. I was too busy looking down her shirt. I know, I’m a pig!

The Encounter

“We come together, cuz opposites attract” – Paula Abdul

Remember the part about me being an asshole? Well it gets better. I actually had an attack of conscience and realized how wrong it was for me to have a weekday girlfriend and more importantly the reasons I was doing it. I knew what I was doing was wrong. God I hate having a conscience! As a result, I broke up with Charlize. When this happened, Charlize was devastated (why wouldn’t she be?) She sent her close friend Celina to convince me that I had made a mistake and that I should return to being Charlize’s weekday boyfriend. The approach took place at the Brown Door, a local bar in Hammond, LA that all the college students frequented. I was there with several of my friends drinking pitchers of beer. Celina was sent as a liaison…an ambassador of love by Charlize to win me back. Celina gave her half-hearted pitch about how much I loved Charlize and blah-blah-blah and that I should reconsider. When I explained the true nature of my relationship with Charlize, Celina looked at me and proceeded to tell me “You’re a fu@&ing asshole!” She then reached down, grabbed our pitcher of beer and started chugging it. I thought “You bitch! No one talks to me like that! And then I thought “That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” It was hot. I was pissed-off and turned-on at the same time! That’s when I devised my diabolical plan. My intentions were not good. In fact they were bad. They were very, very naughty. This girl would pay for her insolence! And I would be the one collecting the naughtiness.

The Hunt

“You will do foolish things, but do them with enthusiasm.” – Colette

Fast forward several weeks, months…shit…I don’t remember. I ran into Celina again at the Brown Door. She was with her best friend Kelly and some other friends playing “quarters” and drinking beer. Being the bad-ass that I was, I approached their table, said hello and gauge Celina’s reaction. Then I asked if I could sit down with them. No one told me to f@&k off and Celina didn’t throw anything at my head so I figured either things were better between us or she was pretty buzzed. We played quarters and made idle conversation as I devised my ingenious scheme on how to be alone with her. When it was time to go home, I asked if I could catch a ride with them. Since Celina owed me a ride, she agreed. I strategically missed the first two drop-offs that were close to my dorm so I could get out at her dorm. The ruse was working. When we got out in front of Lee Hall, I asked Celina if she wanted to drink a few more beers. She of course said “Yes”. The trap was sprung. Could it really be this easy? I’ve never been called the Space Cowboy, Gangster of Love or even Maurice. But damn was I smooth that night. We walked to the convenience store across street and bought and eight-pack of Miller ponies. Tonight was the night my friends. J-Diddy was in the hizzle! The hunter would stalk his prey. The pirate would seize his booty. Did you like the way I incorporated “booty”?

The Kill

“He that breaks a thing to find out what it is, has left the path of wisdom.” – J.R.R. Tolkien

We decided to walk back and sit on the tennis courts to enjoy our beers. I was already planning how I would make my move and what I would do with her bra. We opened our beers and started talking. Talking. The number one thing you never do when you are trying to get laid is start talking. As the great Elvis Presley once sang “A little less conversation, a little more action.” But what did I do? I talked. Celina started talking about her Dad passing away, how much she missed him and then started crying. That was it. The beginning of the end. It was over. I’m was never very good at math but there is one equation I did understand: Crying + Heartache = No Sex. Peg-Legged Pete retreated and the quest to seduce and conquer the Isle of Celina was put on hold. I’m was a pig, but a pig with a conscience. There was no way I was going to take advantage of this beautiful girl who carried so much pain. After she successfully knocked over all eight beers with her flailing “Italian Hands”, I walked her back to her dorm, gave her a hug goodnight and tried to figure out what to do next.

The “L” Word

“And they called it, Puppy Love…” – Paul Anka

I called Celina the next morning and asked her to join me at breakfast. She agreed. At the time, she weighed 91 pounds and didn’t eat. While I gorged myself on pancakes and sausage, she pushed around with two ounces of eggs and a piece of toast. Each day after class, we would meet and hang out together, getting to know each other better. Then one night “IT” happened. No! Not sex! Get your mind out the gutter. Have you ever had an epiphany when you know you’re screwed (and not in a good way). No getting out of a situation. No turning back? That was me. I said “IT”. Seven days into our new relationship, we started calling each other each night after spending most afternoons and evenings together to say goodnight. On the seventh night Celina said “OK, see you tomorrow.” I replied “OK, I love you.” NOOOOOOOOO! What had I done? Why did I say that? What the hell is wrong with me? Am I drunk? What prompted me to say those words? The taste of those three words lingered in my mouth like a bad Italian dinner. I committed the number one guy sin. I said the “L” word. Maybe she didn’t hear it. Maybe she heard it, realized it was a mistake and would let me off the hook. No such luck. Celina said “What did you just say?” I said “What? When? Huh? I said goodnight.” She said “No you didn’t. You KNOW what you said. Did you mean it?” I was now the one who was trapped. The hunter had become the hunted. The pirate ship was approaching. I was doomed! After what seemed like minutes of silence, I managed to get enough saliva back in my mouth to answer her. I said “Yes”.

Joanie Loves Chachi

“The future for me is already a thing of the past -You were my first love and you will be my last” – Bob Dylan

To this day I can’t remember if Celina ever said “I love you” back. In fact, I don’t think she did. It doesn’t matter. For years I have denied the fact that I said the “L” word that night, but there is no more denying it. What guy tells a girl he loves her after seven days? It was embarrassing to lose my man card at such a young age. I have CRS syndrome (Can’t Remember Shit). Celina has a memory like a computer drive with events organized by type, date, people and outcomes. There was no way I could continue to deny the truth according to Celina. You know the rest of the story. For the last 36 years we’ve been together. I tell Celina I love her maybe 20-30 times a day and it never gets old. The lesson I learned is that you just never know who someone really is. We all pass judgement and assumptions about people based on our perceptions but we really never know their true story. One thing we’ve done over the years is to get to know our friends’ stories. It helps us to understand their true person and makes our conversations and relationships so much richer. Make the effort to know people’s stories, or you could end up like us. Two young people, who based on wrong impressions, almost missed the opportunity to spend their lives together.