High school and Freshman year of college is such a weird time. You feel kind of like an adult, but you're not. You feel kind of like a kid, but you're not. The world is asking big questions of you like: what are you doing with your life? What will you study to be someone when you grow up? But is also asking you to still hold on to your youthful glow. It's a period of limbo. Especially right after you graduate. You are on the precipice of college and more responsibilities.

I have always had a horrible time with change. I remember, despite going just down the road for college, that I wailed. I just couldn't believe that I was entering a new era of my life. How the hell did I get here? It wasn't that I felt that life was bad, I just so wanted to hold on to the moments that I had now.

Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, that's never really changed. I've always tried to savor the moments.

A few of you have asked if this is true. And it's 100% true. Even this part of the story. Seriously. Since this weekend marks the end of the State Fair of Texas (and my first time missing it in forever) I bring you part 7 of this story.

I met a guy at Freshman orientation. He was in a fraternity at SMU and invited me to a dance. I declined, but we talked a lot on Facebook messenger. One night, when Michael came home to visit, I left my Facebook open and he read all the messages. Michael, on the other hand, started flirting with a girl on the Texas A&M dance team. We both decided that it was not really in our interest to pursue either of the flirtatious relationships. But it ended up making us stronger, knowing that there were other fish in the sea.

 

Both our personalities are very boisterous. We talk to people, male and female, but of course it can be hard when you’re dating long distance. We learned to work out that it was okay to talk to others and see how the relationship is tested.

 

Michael is visiting from A&M for the State Fair of Texas. I am a State Fair fanatic. I never miss the festival and I’m always eager to check out what fried foods will win and how many cones of cotton candy I’ll eat.

 

Michael's truck roars down the road and he pulls in his “spot” in front of the house. I sit in my parent's room, watching him get out of the car. Wait… is that really him? His head is shaved and he's lost probably 15 pounds. He wasn't fat at all before. He didn't have weight to lose.

 

He comes up to the door and knocks, patiently. I rush to open the door before my little sisters can. I hiss at them to go away so I can passionately kiss him. I opt to just go outside.

“Michael, you have no hair. Or body fat!”

“I know,” he answers. “This is what the corps does to you. I never have time to eat.”

“But time to cut your hair off?”

“You know I had to!” he pulls on a hat and we head back to the car to the fair.

I worry as I step up into his truck: will it still feel the same? We've been long distance for a few months now, but will it still feel like we are boyfriend and girlfriend?

 

We start chatting about how nice the weather is, how tough school is, and how much we miss summer. The radio is turned down low and we start talking about music. That's one thing we always seem to go back to, our musical taste. Luckily, ours is very similar.

“What's that one song from the movie Say Anything?” I ask. This song has been stuck in my head for a while and I can't place it. We watched the movie that night before he left.

“Oh I know what you're talking about. The one where he's holding up the boom box. I think that's In Your Eyes. But I can't remember the artist,” he answers.

“Hmmm.”

We are both silent, our brows furrowed.

“Peter Gabriel!” I exclaim after a minute, relieved that I remembered.

“Nice! Maybe that will be good luck for me to win you something at the fair.”

“Oh no, I am winning myself something,” I retort.

Michael and I are very competitive, about almost anything. Who can do what the longest, fastest, shortest, smartest. And while I think it's nice he wants to win me a stuffed animal from China, I am really good at winning my own, thanks very much.

 

We enter the fair and I'm already feeling like normal. There's a crisp feeling in the air and we hold hands as we eat fried foods, play some games, and ride one ride. I don't like rides.

 

 

We get back in the car to go home and I have two stuffed animals. One teeny tiny dog that he won after playing maybe 15 games, unsuccessfully. His reason is that most games are “rigged.” Especially the shooting one. He does have a point, his shot is pretty on target. And another, much larger one, that I won myself when you throw the against the backboard just right to go into the basket. I got it on my second try.

 

We roll the windows down for the drive home and turn the music up. We are listening to Kiss FM, a pop hits radio station, and enjoying the night air. All of a sudden a few keyboard bars start playing “bah dah bump bump bah dump duh duh.” Michael and I both look at each other.

 

It's Peter Gabriel's “In Your Eyes.”

 

He pulls the car over, we're in such shock. Not only is this an old song, it's a song that's being played on a pop station that only plays today's hits.

 

He turns up the volume, “Get out, let's dance.”

 

I obediently jump out, and we slow dance in the shoulder of the road.

“Well if that isn't a sign I don't know what is,” he says, baffled.

 

“I can't believe we heard that song. We were just talking about it,” I smile.

 

“Maybe one day we'll dance to it at our wedding.”

 

I swallow, feeling my legs buckle, all I can do is nod and hug him tighter.

 

“I mean, when we get married.”