Winter semester, 1986. Yep, I was smitten. Smote. Pole-axed. Twitterpated. I was lovesick and stupid.
But remember, I was also certain that I would never qualify for her attentions. So I took refuge in that course action available to hopeless romantic doofs for time immemorial.
I followed her around.
This part, I kind of worry about. Stalking is a real, violent, pathological behavior. I can make jokes (hey, it’s all very romantic until someone calls the cops), but I want to make it clear that what I was doing was silly, not scary.
Back then, students’ schedules were public. You could go look up your friends on a microfiche reader, and see where they were. She was taking fencing. I took fencing!
I was on her staff again at The Leading Edge. This semester, a science fiction convention was being held on campus, and staff from The Leading Edge featured prominently in its production. I did everything she asked me to do.
Once, there was a glimmer of hope; she invited me to her house for breakfast to discuss some of the marketing for the upcoming issue and the con.
Oh, whoops, she had something more important to do. She cancelled. This was actually an important moment; it was the first time she ever broke my heart. I knew it was too good to be true!
But I doted on her, if only from a safe and somewhat anonymous distance. OK, I guess you can’t really call it “doting” if I had no interaction with her. I certainly thought about her a lot!
At the convention, there was a small ceremony where the staff gathered to congratulate one another on our success. Jenni had been instrumental in the success that year, so she was awarded a dozen red roses for her hard work. I had conspired to sit at her table.
Whoops. People being recognized moved up front to sit with the authors and staff. So I sat at the table with her Dad.
Here again, a spectacular strategic failure on my part. He knew everything about her; I could have asked him about her life at home, about their family. Nope. I just stared at Jenni, and clapped when they gave her the roses. I did manage to say a number of complimentary things about her, one that her Dad has since mentioned remembering; that Jennilyn would make a great Relief Society President someday.
Boys, pay attention; it’s important to love and respect the girl in a way that reassures her Dad that you might someday come to treasure her as much as he does.
I upped my game, and started leaving her anonymous notes on her door. Yep, you could get every student’s address, too. I recall in particular, commenting on the horseshoe that was hanging on the post of her door, that it was upside down.
She never knew it was me.
Boys, pay attention. Don’t be coy, your intent will be lost.
The Fencing Tournament! Remember, I said she had fencing? She was in the advanced class. I was a beginner. I think by now she was beginning to glean from the litter of my haphazard behavior that I had a crush on her. She was polite, but she was pretty clearly not that into me. At one point during the fencing tournament, she even suggested I walk her roommate out of the building, suggesting that we might have a lot in common.
As if. Her roommate was great, but I am pretty focused.
I watched her fence, delighted at her energy and grace. I put on a brave show, and tried not to embarrass myself, not realizing that she was really not paying the same attention to me that I paid to her.
But I was in love, and did not care.
A week later, I would make my move. To be continued ... in chapter 4.
Or look backwards at chapter 2.
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