It was curiosity.
It was a rainy spring Sunday afternoon my freshman year of college. It was too early for dinner and too late for a weekend adventure. I was too restless to do homework but felt too gross to workout or get dressed up. When I got the call from some guy friends to meet them for a sandwich, I was dashing down the hall before the dial tone buzzed.
And of course, he was there.
The first thing I thought was that he was a frat boy. He had on a baseball cap, faded jeans, cowboy boots and drove a truck--the Baylor frat boy uniform. The second thing I thought was that I had no make up on and was wearing grubby work out clothes.
Plopping down at the table, we were cordial to each other. As my guy friends plopped down with enough sandwiches to feed an African village, chaos and hilarity ensued. I discovered he wasn't a frat boy; he discovered I was single. With a smile that sparkled and eyes that twinkled, he laughed when I fired off a witty comment and clapped a hand on my shoulder.
"I like this girl," he proclaimed. "She's got spunk."
He might as well have handed me a ring. From that moment, I was hooked. I was completely fascinated by his every word, every expression. I stalked him on instant messenger, nagged my guy friends about him and found reasons to wander over to his dorm's cafeteria at all hours during the day.
I had to know about him. I had to learn everything. I wanted to know where he was from, what he wanted to do, about his dreams and about his realities. And every bit of information I learned made me want to learn more. I had never been so curious about someone in my life. He was the one person I couldn't figure out right away, couldn't analyze or understand after a few minutes.
Little did I know he was just as hooked on me. While I was busy prancing around his dorm, he was making sure none of my guy friends wanted to date me.
Prancing around his dorm turned into drives around town and late night dinners that led to a delirious 4 a.m. conversation where he asked me to be his girlfriend. Later, I once asked him when he knew he liked me.
"When I first saw you," he said. "You were so elegant and simple. No make up, comfortable clothes and totally confident. You were funny, smart and cute as all hell. You didn't need fancy clothes or all the make up the other girls did."
While I was busy basking in the glow of my own ego, he flashed a grin. "What did you like about me?"
"Simple," I said. "You made me curious. I wanted to know everything about you.”
And six years later, I still don’t know everything.
I’m curious.
