Friday, March 24, 2006

Life Won't Wait (a post full of digressions)

In my quest to have more music on iTunes than my husband does (since it is my computer and all), I have been ripping CDs this morning. Among them, Rancid's ...And Out Come The Wolves, which I purchased in 1996 or maybe even 95. I brought it with me when I went to college in 1997 (if you are weird and tracking my life, I deferred for two years before giving up and attending for considerably less than that). It was on the shelf over the built-in "desk" in my dorm room second trimester when I got a boyfriend. So was Bush's 16 Stone, which I carefully kept hidden until he married me. But nevermind that.

We'd been "seeing" each other (that is such a funny euphemism) for a few weeks, or maybe a whole month, when he looked through the CDs, selected Rancid, and said, "Can I borrow this?" I found the question startling. First of all, we never spent time in my room (freshman girls' dorm), always his (upperclass coed and further off-campus), so it just made sense to bring the good music. Second, what's mine is his. Why would he ask to borrow?

I don't think I was one of those girls, the ones who plan their wedding on the first date and become creepy and stalkery. I don't think I was. I'd never exhibited that sort of behavior before, to be certain; in fact, I'd been rather withdrawn from my prior boyfriend, Eric, who wanted to be much closer than I was comfortable with (I actually refused to have sex with him during the two months or so that we "dated" because he told me he loved me and I didn't love him*). It's just that I knew this was it. It never occurred to me to behave as though it were anything else.

And that is my whole story. Boring!

*When Eric said, "I love you," I replied, "I know." I don't know if I am really mean or what, but I still find it dreadfully amusing.