Ah, here's one now...
I have no idea how Rana (not her real name) and I met or got to be friends. I transferred into her school my junior year of college, and she just seemed to always be around. We both had meal plans, and the cafeteria was pretty much right between our respective dorms, so I'm guessing one of us just ended up at the other's table, and that got to be a habit. I used to see her pretty much everywhere on campus, actually. My ex (who at that point was still going to the school I had transferred from) took to referring to her as my stalker. It wasn't that bad, really, but she fit the description anyway.
She had come to this country back in junior high as a foreign exchange student from Honduras, so she was oddly trapped between two languages. Both her English and Spanish were arrested in their development, the former because she was acquiring it too late in life to work it like a native speaker, and the latter because she had the Spanish vocabulary of a middle schooler from a developing country, since that's what she was when she left.
If I tell you she was madly in love with me, you probably aren't going to believe that, but it's true. You know how women just collapse in your arms and are like putty when you're doing everything just right? Well, I didn't have to do anything at all and she was that way. And, yes, I took advantage of that a few times without my then-girlfriend (now-ex) knowing... which was actually easier since they became roommates when my ex transferred.
That's kind of Exhibit A and then some for my ex's inability to make friends or connections on her own that she ended up moving in with one of mine, and it's even more telling that to this day she really has no idea what went on between her roommate and I. Yeah, I know the guys are going to give me shit because she was no Catalina from My Name Is Earl, and the girls are going to give me shit because they never met my ex and think she didn't deserve it, but I think we all made mistakes we get nostalgic about, don't we? If not, call me, ladies.
She still wants me. Well, that's all I can figure. She tracked down my "fake" profile (set up in my "real" name I rarely go by anymore) within probably a couple months of my creating it. Ironically, I tried looking for her shortly after I first started the Time-Travel series, but never found her. Since there are apparently only a half-dozen sur names available to all of Central and South America, there were just too many hits from any search for me to run through, and that's assuming she wasn't married. As it turned out, she was.
I know you want to finish what we started when my ex went home that weekend and I came over ostensibly to set up your computer. And also that time when she was out for one of her evening classes. And the time before when we started in the lobby of your dorm that eventually turned into a good reason why I had a private room that semester. And so on. But we can't.
See, I developed a strong aversion to women married to guys who have easy access to kitchen utensils. Something about large knives and meat cleavers and all such as that just renders me situationally impotent.
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