Trouble in Paradise

I just walked past the couple that lives across the hall from me.  Yes, thats right, I said couple.  Earlier this semester the guy that had been living there moved out, and in moved the other dude's girl.  Its been a couple of months now since the switch, and at first the situation seemed to be paradise.  Both are pretty big on getting f***** up, and from taking prescription drugs to help their "focus" to experimenting with other illegal substances, they at least have one obvious thing in common.  However, as the living arrangements went from fresh to expected, and everyone lost the initial shock of seeing the babe enter her new room, paradise began to experience stormy weather.  It all started a couple weeks ago when around midday their shouting carried clearly through their door and into our room.  The fight was ugly: thinly veiled threats were hurled and accusations were sent back and forth.  As the fight continued for several minutes I mused that there was finally trouble in paradise.  As time would show, the fight was not an isolated incident.  Every couple days, arguments can be heard spewing from the room as if something insidious was growing there.  In fact, I have come to view the room as infected, contaminated beyond a cure.

And yet as I walked by the two this evening, they seemed in the highest of spirits.  Both happily said hello to me, and they were walking together with a flirty playfulness.  They were headed most likely to dinner where they will inevitably share romantic lines and appear to to be the peak of happiness.  But alone, they are different.  Their behavior is far from romantic and cute; it borders on ugliness.  Of course I am aware that at times all couples argue.  I would even go as far to contend that once in a while a fight can help a relationship: it can start things out fresh, and allow each individual to realize and work on their flaws.  In this case though I seriously doubt that these fights are beneficial.  If anything they are frightening. An outside observer would conclude that the clashes were between two people not very fond of one another, not a couple in "love" as they claim to be.

I guess what baffles me, is why either of them would ever want to move in together.  Living together is hard enough without having to share the tiny and cramped spaces of a college dorm room.  Now don't get me wrong, having a girl stay over can be a whole hell of a lot of fun.  The dude had a single, she could've stayed over whenever they wanted...for days in a row even.  But that doesn't mean that they had to give up their individuality.  At the college age, who wants to spend every single moment with their girlfriend?  What about chilling with the bros...or even just having some time to yourself?  There must be times when both much desperately want space.  The more I think about it, the more I begin to realize what the room really signifies for me: a trap.  By moving in together, they have trapped themselves, stifling their individuality and preventing their relationship from flourishing.  I'm not saying that you can't be with someone, or have a committed relationship, but please remain yourself.  We have the rest of our lives to make decisions with a spouse, and have to deal with the daily worries of living together.  For now, be yourself...

Premature Adulthood

Earlier this week a girl in my calculus class returned from her honeymoon.  She returned, contrary to my misconceptions about marriage, the same girl that she left as.  I have long felt that saying the words "I do" has an immediate and noticeable impact on someone, but as she sat in class today, she was still the same nameless girl that always sat two rows over and four seats up from me.  She was, except for the gaudy ring perched on her finger, unchanged.  The only senior in my class, (calc isn't something one generally takes in their last semester of college) she inevitably sits in her seat acutely aware of her status as class "elder."

We did some group work today, something done as a way to break up the long monotony of taking derivatives and sketching graphs, and for the first time all semester she landed in my group at the back of the room.  Too distracted to actually focus on work, I instead tried to catch glimpses of her ring, which she seemed to hide from us, pressing her hand against her shirt or hiding it underneath the desk.  I had never had a classmate who was married before, and I was suddenly aware that marriage had made her completely and utterly different from me or any other kid in the room.

 I finally got up the nerve to ask where she went on her honeymoon, and she responded that they had gone to Disneyland.  She proceeded to tell me that they went to all four parks, and began to list the different stops during their week of ignorant bliss.  I couldn't help but thinking to myself that Disneyland was far from the romantic getaway that I would want to spend the first precious days with my new bride.  Disneyland was a for the married couple with a family of three, looking for endless fun and warm weather all at a cheap price.  It was a place where families went for a brief respite from the constant struggles of life.  It was where I imagined I might be ten years after my marriage, not on the first night.  It was then as I looked at her giving me all the details that I realized she was still just a kid.  She was taking calculus and still worrying about final exams and which party she wanted to go to on friday night.  She was still in college probably exhausted from spending countless hours in the library, and yet exhilarated by the simple pleasures of learning, and dreaming of a future.  Its college...every one of is just a kid...

Except her future was decided.  At graduation there would be no opportunity to bask in the glow of the accomplishment, and start her first job with the carefree attitude that she could do whatever she wanted.  No, she had responsibility.  She had a husband, and had to be a wife.

I suppose in a few years I will come to look at these responsibilities as a blessing.  At some point I will be able to relish the opportunity that she now faces...but not yet.  Even as I write this, I doubt she is there either.  Life is crazy, and its made far more complicated by love.  Maybe her husband is everything she has ever wanted, but everything can wait.  We can't control when we fall in love...but that doesn't mean we should be in any rush to grow up.

Letting it Happen

I was recently talking to a friend when we landed upon our favorite topic of conversation: babes.  When I met him in the fall semester I took him under my wing when it came to girls and he returned the favor when it came to my engineering homework.  Having been born in Pakistan, and living in a variety of places throughout the world growing up, he was a little naive when it came to dealing romantically with the opposite sex.  Despite this, the more time we spent together, the more I began to realize just how damn popular he was.  Everyone knew him...and more importantly girls were always talking to him.  Countless times we would be getting some food, or walking to class and babes would shout out to him from the table next to us, or from across the quad.  At first, it confused me that amongst all the drunk hook-ups and slutty behavior on a college campus, that he couldn't easily join the fray especially considering how popular he was becoming.  I figured, hell girls were never as happy to see me as they were him, and I didn't have any problem meeting someone different every weekend.  

This was a dilemma I could never quite figure out, until our most recent conversation.  He told me that he was adopting a new approach: he was going to let someone come to him.  He told me that he had always gone out looking for girls, but he found it to be rather pointless now.  For whatever reason this realization made a whole lot of sense to me.  You see, it always seems a lot harder to find whatever it is you want when you are actually looking for it.  The best things come naturally, and are unexpected, which makes them that much more rewarding.  My friend's greatest mistake during the fall semester was trying as hard as he did.  Yes, of course everyone knew him because he was outgoing and involved on campus.  There was no doubt he was well liked, but his intense friendliness came off less personally than he meant it to be.  People notice when you are trying too hard, and sometimes have difficulty relating to the kid that everyone knows.  I think when applied to girls, letting things happen is vital.  Trying too hard is unattractive.  Caring too much is considered nerdy.  Every babe is looking for the "cool guy."  Now this doesn't mean you can't be a genuine bro, but its important to chill.  When you desperately search for love, it always seems that you wind up disappointed.  Go out, and live without expectations...if you do that, I think you'll appreciate whatever you find.