My wife. My wife. It doesn’t even feel real to call her that. She’s never really been my wife. After dating, she was more caretaker than soul-mate. My wife hardly knew me before the new me that she would grow to know and become far too comfortable with over the years.
We met in college. We were both studying physical training. The program was tiny, and we’d had a few classes together, so we got to know each other pretty well early on. I always joked in class - we had half the team in the program and acted like we were the only ones in it. She knew who I was.
I noticed her noticing me a few times, but my head was high, so I tried to pretend I’d never seen her.
She started coming to matches about halfway through the season - with Sandra and Ellen. Football was over, basketball was two months away - so our wrestling matches became the weekly rock concerts of the campus. The coach made usually made us sit with the team before our turns, but I was co-captain so I made my own rules. I’d walk around, sit in the bleachers - basically be the team’s publicity rep.
Every time she came in, I’d rush over to the group and lead them to their “assigned seats” like a sweaty maitre’d. Her friends thought I was cute, so she stayed pretty quiet most of the time - sticking to the back of the group to observe all of us playing our flirty games.
Then I’d hear -
BRIAN!
and rush over to the mat for my match against another nobody. I won every time. (I was en route to a perfect season that year). Then I’d rush back over to the girls and gloat until it was tally-up time.
We went on our first date in November - I’d been around her and her friends long enough to sneak her aside every so often and flirt with her. I asked her to Friendly’s after practice, and picked her up in Jeff’s (he was out of town for the weekend) Pontiac.
She looked better that night than she ever had, with her hair in a tight bun, and dressed head-to-toe in this crimson sweat-suit.
The date went as usual - I’d been single and dispensing the college girls. After all, I had my ritual perfected by now. And I knew the motions. I was going to have her in bed by weekend’s end, I thought. But she threw a curveball about halfway through our burgers.
“I’ve got a lot on my plate,” she said. “I’ve been taking care of my dad for the last three years. I work part time. And I don’t really…mess around.”
I rolled my eyes - it was just another disclaimer. I’d heard enough of these.
She continued - “I heard about you.” She was playing the game now, and I never even offered.
“Oh yeah? What’d you hear?” I shot back through a grin.
“I heard that you — that you leave girls behind.”
I shook my head in disbelief, and lied right into her eyes. “No way.They leave me behind.”
She looked down, and we drank our milkshakes in a satisfied silence.
