I hated her almost immediately. She was such a jerk, and she was entirely too cocky. So how had I ended up in her bed, on my back, screaming her name? It's a bit of a story.
*
I walked into Boden Hall, ready to begin a new semester. I was excited about my Junior year, and couldn't wait for the semester to get underway. I got up to my room, unpacked my things, and my roommate and I left to go to lunch. I would be rooming with my best friend Tasha this year, and things were going to be great. The year was full of promise, and I intended to take full advantage.
Tasha and I got back to the dorm so that we could go to a floor meeting. It was one of those "getting to know you" type things were everyone introduces themselves and whatnot. It wasn't a highlight, but I wanted to know who would be living on our floor, so we went.
The whole time during the meeting, there was a girl staring at me. It wasn't just any stare. It was one of those "I could sop you up with a biscuit" stares. I tried to ignore her, but couldn't because I could feel her eyes on me from across the room. I looked at Tasha, who had noticed my "admirer" and was a little shocked by her brazenness. Then came the time for all of us to introduce ourselves. Her turn came up and she stood, still looking at me.
"My name is Daphne, but people call me Dee." she said. "I'm a Senior majoring in Journalism..."
She said some other stuff about herself, but I wasn't really listening to what she was saying because I was so taken aback by her audacity. She sat down, still looking straight at me. I couldn't believe it. She didn't seem to care that staring at people wasn't the polite thing to do. All the girls had noticed her staring straight at me, and I could hear a few giggles.
She'd look away every now and again, but not for long, because I'd still catch her watching me with that devious look on her face. I could tell right away that she was going to be a girl that I'd have nothing to do with. It wasn't that I disliked her orientation; I'm sure she'd noticed the rainbow bracelet on my wrist. As a matter of fact, that may have encouraged her. It wasn't that I didn't think she was attractive. She was indeed my type with her pretty face and boyish charm. I loved the way she wore her baggy jeans and oversized shirt. It wasn't even that I was bothered by her staring; I thought it was a bit flattering...at first. I could just tell from the beginning that she was someone who thought they could have whatever - and whoever - they wanted. I wasn't going to give in. I couldn't deal with a woman like that. So I'd decided that I would give Miss Dee no play.
The meeting let out, and I saw her attempting to make a move in my direction. I quickly shot her a look that said "don't follow me" and turned to walk to my room. Tasha and I got into our room, and she immediately started yapping about her.
"Oh my goodness, James! She was staring you down!" she said, smiling broadly
"Ugh! I know. I was about to slap her ass." I said, my disgust apparent
"What? She was cute! And she obviously thinks you are too," I knew Tasha would like this chick, figures.
"Yeah, whatever. I know her type. She thinks I'm gonna get on my back for her because she snaps her fingers. Those cocky chicks get on my last nerve."
"Well. I bet she's not that bad. Just give her a chance."
"I've made up my mind. 'Dee' gets none of 'me'." I said, walking out of the door. Tasha and I were going to go to another friend's room to hang out a bit.
Just as we were walking out of the room, I'll give you one guess who was walking by...you guessed it - Dee. She looked me in the eyes and said on sentence. With that sentence, she cemented my distaste for her.
"I'm gonna make you mine." she said, looking me up and down.
I just looked at her in disbelief. No one could be that piggish! She was definitely someone I would try to steer clear of. And I did, for about two months. I'd see her on the hall, and just keep going. I wouldn't speak, nod, wave, or even acknowledge her. I just didn't have the patience to listen to another one of her remarks. So, I avoided her.
As my stupid luck would have it, she was in one of my classes. It was a women's studies class, and I was really looking forward to it. I decided that I wouldn't worry about her being there. She hadn't really made a move, and I was pretty sure that her previous antics were more a way for her to get my attention than anything else. So, I decided to enjoy the class.
Soon into the class, she asserted herself as someone with definite opinions. She regularly participated in the debates of the class, and many of her points were quite valid. And for the most part I agreed with what she said. The girl that I saw in class was much better than the girl I first met.
"Hmm. Maybe she isn't that bad." I thought to myself.
But one day in class (about two months into class) we were talking about the affect the media had on women's self-esteem. I had agreed with her often before, but not this time. I had to say something.
"I think that women often give the media a lot of ammo. They allow themselves to be fooled by what they see in magazines and on TV. If they were to just stop following the norm, the media would have no choice but to change it's approach." she said.
I didn't agree.
"But you have to take into consideration that many women are looking for the approval of the men they date. Men in America are told that thin is in, and that a woman needs to be a size 2 to be sexy. Even our young boys know that a woman with big breast and a small waist are seen as more appealing. So the question is: do we do what the media says, or be looked over and called ugly? And even those that don't want male approval want to feel pretty. How can she feel pretty when she's the opposite of what pretty seems to be defined as in our society?" I said.
"I'm not saying that you can't want to be pretty. I'm not saying that being thin is disgusting. I'm just saying that we shouldn't base our entire self image on it. There are young girls everywhere vomiting up meals just to fit into a pair of jeans! The media paints an unhealthy image of beauty, and it's costing our girls greatly." she turned to look at me then.
"I don't in any way condone that type of weight loss method. I agree that too many of our young girls feel the need to starve themselves to go down a size. All I'm saying is that they almost can't be blamed for thinking that way. It's rammed down their throats that being wafer thin is the only way to be. Almost every woman feels some insecurity about the way she looks. The media feeds on that." I said.
Somehow, debating with her like this, going toe to toe, point for point was turning me on. Her vehemence about what she was saying was sexy as hell. I thought for a second about how angry sex with her would feel. Would it be rough? Animalistic? I bet she would be really forceful in bed, just the way I liked it.
"I don't. I don't feel insecure about my body..." She said, shaking me out of my little fantasy.
I thought to myself 'you have no reason to; you're about the finest thing I've seen in a while!' But, of course, I didn't say that to her. I shook it out of my mind and kept up the debate.
"But you're not the average woman." I said. And that was apparent by the boots on her feet and the baggy jeans on her legs. She was not America's standard woman. "I'm talking about the girl that reads Seventeen magazine and has a crush on the quarterback at her high school. She's the one that's being hurt. She's the one that thinks the only way he'll notice her is to go down a size and show more skin."
"I know that. I'm just saying that..." we had both begun to raise our voices, and the debate was turning into more of an argument. Our professor interrupted her and changed the subject.
She continued to look at me for a moment before turning away. That grin from the first time I'd seen her was back. But this time, I wasn't quite so disgusted. In fact, I was a little intrigued. I was surprised at myself. Why was I thinking about what sex with her would be like? Why was I smiling a little when she looked over at me? Was she wearing on me? I pushed the thought out of my mind.
*
Class let out, and I was on my way out of the room when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see her, minus the little grin.
"I hope I didn't offend you or anything. I was saying that some people put too much emphasis on what other people think. I didn't really mean you personally or anything." She looked a little sheepish. It was a welcome change.
"Oh, no. I know what you meant. I kinda agree. I was just saying that you can't really blame people for wanting to be accepted." I said.
It was then that I noticed how truly pretty she really was. Her face was beautiful, and that beauty contrasted with her masculinity was a damn good combination. Her eyes were such a strange color, almost like a deep maroon. I looked at her mouth as she talked and watched her lips move. They looked so soft. I thought about what it would be like to kiss her, probably like falling into a sea of pillows. But I caught myself and paid attention to what she was saying.
"And I wasn't saying that you look bad or anything. You're beautiful." she said, looking down a bit.
"Thank you." I said, thinking that maybe - just maybe - I could at least be her friend.
"Umm...you wanna get some coffee or something?" she said, her voice low, her face so adorable.
"Oh, sorry. I can't; gotta get to my next class." I said, cursing Econ, "Can I get a rain check?"
"Of course." she said, and I thought I saw that grin inching back onto her face. We said our goodbyes and went our own ways.
