Love finally found me.
I walked a girl back from the law school to her dormitory. It was APALSA Day, when the Asian law students got together to set up a miniature carnival of Asian culture, food, and legal issues, and since I'm basically the community's resident expert on Japanese law issues, I was called in to work a table, sandwiched in between Vietnam and India. So anyway, said girl, a South Asian community leader, walks back to the main campus with me, and we chat, and we part, and everything is pretty straightforward.
She shows up again the following week, when we send a posse of Asian leaders into the administration building to meet with one of the university's vice presidents, a fellow who knows nothing about cultural diversity and tries to hide it by claiming that he's Cuban, even though his name is Mike and he only speaks English. In my typical style, befitting of a public relations person, I throw on some clothes that are imposing but vaguely unorthodox: pumpkin shirt, gold tie, black waistcoat. Unorthdox, yes, but I'm the white fellow in the Asian student council, so the term will follow me no matter what I do.
Anyway, she is silent in the far corner as I enter, a minute late, and take a seat by the door, catching the eyes of all in the room, particularly the reporters who rushed in when the press release was sent out that morning. Through the administrator's bullshitting, she keeps throwing quick glances in my direction. Every now and then, I catch one, throw it back. It feels good.
A few days pass, and she sends me an instant message. She knows my screen name because she lives with my former roommate's girlfriend. In a campus of 40,000 people, this is a funny coincidence.
I go to her place the following night. We watch Bend It Like Beckham. We both like soccer. I'm majority Irish and she's majority Indian. The message of the movie rubs off on us about 30 minutes later. I don't get home until 5 AM.
Several nights later, my best friend and I go out for pizza. The relationship is blossoming, but there's a catch: I leave Florida in two weeks. She stays for three years. For those three years, I will be in Philadelphia. There's no negotiating: there's a guy scouting out townhouses for me in Manayunk right now. "So what am I going to do?"
My friend, of course, has the right answer. "You're going to have an Argentine barbecue at your bachelor party."
Man, I am screwed.