Dating Bridgit (part 1)

Things just seem to be going from bad to worse these days, so I’m going to keep on not writing about current events and find happier things to blog about. Although I reckon I’ll be able to tell my grandchildren about the time that we had a curfew imposed on top of a quarantine, it’s nothing y’all need to read my blog to find out about.

Since I‘ve just written about high school and Hickory, maybe it’s time I told y’all something about college…besides the fact that I slept with 30 chicks in 30 days, took a lot of Shakespeare classes, was a starting shortstop for three years…and designed my own baseball resort. When I wasn’t being a total horndog, I had a few girlfriends. Nothing as serious as Shoshanah Rabinowitz back in high school, but I had a few steady girlfriends at MT, none of them terribly serious, but there was basically one a year and we drifted apart over summer vacation. No break up drama, in other words. I’ve told y’all before that it’s easier having a girlfriend (that’s why I stuck with Monica as long as I did)…at least if she’s nice to you.

Mom told me that I should worry about my reputation when I got to college, and that ‘nice’ girls weren’t going to go for the total horndog she didn’t entirely know I became in high school. Mom’s always wanted me to be a nice boy, and I think I always have been a nice boy. You can just be a nice boy and a horndog at the same time lol.

So freshman year at MT was my first time actually dating a lot of girls. The dudes reading this will know what that’s like: asking girls out, paying for them…and then maybe or maybe not ending up where you want to the next morning lol. I know, I know…there’s more to it than that…and part of meeting girls over food is so you can get to know them. I met some interesting girls in Murfreesboro, but I was still an 18 year old boy when I got to college. And y’all know what that means.

The girlfriend I want to tell you about here was one I had sophomore year. Her name was Bridgit, and one of the first things she told me was that that was how she spelled it. It was one of the first things she told anyone. Maybe I don’t get it because there’s only one way to spell my name, but she was always real pushy about her name not being spelled Bridget like most people would think it’s spelled.

So where did I meet Bridgit? In a sociology class I thought it would be fun to take. It was one of those big lecture classes, and one morning I got there later than I usually did, since, well, let’s just say that I woke up further away from where the class was than I usually did and it threw my schedule for the whole morning off lol.

I was never one of those kids who sat in the front…but I was definitely not one of those kids who sat in the back and goofed off. I usually sat somewhere in the middle and in the center…but you can’t get there if you show up 30 seconds before the lecture starts. The class was held in Jones Hall, in this big room shaped like half a bowl, where you come in at the bottom and have to go up a bunch of stairs to get to the middle or back rows. Y’all must know rooms like that from when you were in college…or at least seen movies of them. The problem with those rooms is that everyone can see you when you come in, including the professor…and there are times when you don’t want everyone looking at you. Coming into a lecture late is one of those. Early that semester I came just as professor was starting his lecture, but I still tried to make my way to where I wanted to sit. I thought I was being quiet and inconspicuous, but the professor said – and said it so no one would miss it – “when you’ve finally found a seat you like, Mr. Bolton, I’ll start with the lecture.” It got a huge laugh, maybe because the students in the class were surprised that the professor knew High School Musical, but it was pretty embarrassing for me. I tried super hard never to be late for that class again, although, as it was, the professor called me “Mr. Bolton” for the rest of the semester.

So anyway, there I was, coming into the class again with seconds to spare, and not wanting another Zac Efron comment made in front of 300 of my fellow students. So my best choice was to sit in the front and on the side. I promise y’all that the reason I took the seat next to Bridgit was that it was free and I could get to it inconspicuously. I wasn’t planning to hit on her.

So I asked:

“Can I sit here?”

“It’s a free country,” she said without looking up.

Not exactly the nicest way to go about saying I could sit next to her, but I slid into the seat anyway.

Then I reckon she got a look at me and said:

“I’m going to have to tell all my little girlfriends at my sorority that I got so sit next to Troy Bolton.”

I was still thinking of something to say as an answer to that (y’all might agree that it takes a while to come up with a retort to that lol), but the professor had already started his lecture.

It’s not that I didn’t pay attention to what the professor was saying (ok…don’t ask me now exactly what it was the lecture was about…that much I don’t remember), but I did use some of the class time to check out the chick sitting next to me.

She wasn’t my ‘type’: she had dark hair and wasn’t curvy at all. She had a pretty enough profile (since that was all I could see) but it was nothing that got me too excited. I first thought she was a 6.

Then I got some kind of vibe from her that made me think she was more like an 8. I only saw all her face when she was being rude and let me sit next to her, but, well…by the time the lecture was over, I decided I was gonna try and ask her out.

So I resorted to the usual trick you play when you’re sitting next to someone in college and you want to get to know them after class.

“Hey,” I said, “did you get everything he (meaning the professor) said about…”. Ok, I forget what it was I asked her about. It was a pretext anyway: I knew what the professor said. “I got lost in there for a few minutes.”

“Was that when you were checking me out?,” she asked. I couldn’t tell whether she was being serious or making a joke. She didn’t laugh or smile, so I figured she was being serious. Which was kinda weird.

“Probably,” I said, also with a straight face. I think she kinda liked that, since she didn’t keep moving along out of the room with the other students.

“Hi,” I then said, “I’m…”

“Troy Bolton, we all know.”

“That’s not fair,” I said. I gotta admit I was a little insulted.

“If the overpriced Nikes fit…”

Then it was my turn to cut her off.

“I’ll have you know I don’t play basketball.”

“Football, then? You could be the captain of the football team for all I care about sports in this place.”

“Wrong again,” I said. “I play baseball.”

“And you’re the star of the team, I’m sure. The MT Wildcats would be lost without Troy at 1^st base.”

“My name is Hunter. Hunter Block. And I’m a shortstop, not a 1^st baseman. You can stop calling me Troy Bolton any time you like.” I gotta admit that I wasn’t enjoying it. “And you should at lest know we’re the Blue Raiders, even if you don’t give a shit about collegiate sports.”

That softened her up a little.

“You got me there. I know we’re the Blue Raiders, although I’ve never been to any kind of a game since I got here. I don’t know anything about sports. Except I reckon you are a little short from what I think a basketball player should look like. Hunter, you said it was?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Pleased to meet you, Hunter. My name’s Bridgit. Spelled B-R-I-D-G-I-T. Bridgit Marks. Spelled M-A-R-K-S. Not like Karl.”

“Bridgit with an I, Marks not like Karl. Got it. Do I get a number to go with that?” Sometimes I can be pretty dang smooth lol.

“You move fast,” she said.

“I have another class to get to,” I said.

She gave me her number, then made me call her so she’d have mine.

“Got it,” she then said. “Let me just get your name in.” She typed for a second. Then she said: “is that Bolton with one or two Ls?”.

She looked up at me like she was actually waiting for an answer.