flashback
In August of last year, my girlfriend Claire left the state for a college on the other side of the country. Although I had not been a virgin prior to dating Claire, Claire and I had never slept together. This is not to say that we were not physically involved, but just that I had decided that we would not have sex. Although close on many occasions, to this day we have never slept together. Nobody has ever understood this. It seems impossible for people to understand that I did it because I loved her more than I had ever thought possible. She was the first girl that I ever thought I could marry, and if we did make it that far, I wanted everything to be perfect. Her exodus nearly crippled me.

We agreed that we would try to make things work, but at ages 17 and 18, I had my doubts. Before long, the loneliness became too much, and I began to seek comfort in the eyes of other girls. It began as innocent flirting, and then progressed into not so innocent flirting. My conscience was killing me, but it wasn’t my fault, was it? She left. And we’re so young. This is no time for a long distance relationship, and it has to end. But I don’t want it to end. I love her. Don’t I?

I imagine the conversation must have been so confusing for her. I love you, but we can’t be together.

back to february

It just so happens that Claire is in town this week, and will be taking me out for my birthday tomorrow morning. She hasn’t told me where, just that it was a surprise, and that I should “bring my eatin’ shoes”. I asked if she wanted to hang out this evening, and celebrate my acceptance letter, but she had already made plans with her family. No big deal, I’m sure I’ll find something to do…

By 9:00PM I have a cigarette hanging out of the corner of my mouth, and a glass of Jameson whiskey in my right hand. For the past 3 years, my best friend’s (John) parents have been taking weekend trips up to the mountain for romantic get-aways, and we never miss a beat. As soon as they were out of site, we were on the phone with a select list of potential guests. By 9:30, our guests had arrived: Terra is a beautiful, caramel toned African American girl with a big smile, and even bigger breasts. Tasha is a thin, lightly complexioned blond with great eyes and an adorable laugh. James is a happy-go-lucky sort of guy who can never quite say what he wants around women. And finally, we have Kiel. A guy who can go zero to drunk in less than 10 minutes.

That night is going off without a hitch. The cop’s hadn’t showed up, and John and I were doing very well with Terra and Tasha. After endless games of speed quarters and boat races, it is apparent that both Kiel and James are ready to be tucked in. Within seconds, both are fast asleep on the couches. Time for some real fun.

“So girls. What are you up for?” John shoots me a quick smile, and I know we’re on the same page.

“I don’t know, we’re game for anything,” Tasha says with a smirk.

Without waiting for another invitation, I step in close and bring my lips within an inch of hers. John laughs, and I can feel Terra smiling behind me.

“Well?” Tasha says looking at my lips.

In a split second, the last 6 months of my relationship with Claire flashed through my mind. I’d been putting off my feelings for her, and didn’t realize until now that I hadn’t actually made a decision. Before I finished my thought, Tasha grabbed the back of my neck and brought her lips to mine. My mind is racing. Am I excited? Is this joy, or fear? Did I just pass the tipping point? What have I done? Well, it’s too late now.

Within 30 seconds John and Terra had followed our lead and were deeply involved in his room. Tasha drags me into John’s room and says, “switch”. Before I know it, Terra is on top of me breathing quickly into my ear. I’ve blown it, I think to myself. I’ve absolutely blown it.

It’s 3AM and the girls are fast asleep. I get up to use the bathroom and nearly fall over to the realization that I’m still drunk. In a futile attempt to ease the morning suffering, I down a few excedrin and a glass of water in the bathroom. I wasn’t ready for what was about to happen next. As I exit the bathroom and turn the corner into the bedroom, I see Kiel standing over Terra, legs spread, with his head cocked to the side, urinating. Immediately, I grab the popcorn bucket lying on the floor and thrust it under the stream.

“KIEL! KIEL WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!?”

In a zombielike state, he sputters, “I’m sorry… I. I. I’m sorry.”

As the seriousness of the situation gives way to hilarity, I nudge John on the head so he won’t feel left out. Within seconds, we’re both laughing uncontrollably. Terra wakes up and pulls the covers over her head as if it were just a dream. What a night.

In the morning, I wake up to Claire’s phone call, and the ringer activates my headache.

“Hey, I’m outside, are you ready?” she says with beautiful innocence.

“Um.  Yeah, I’ll be out.”

Truth be told, I wasn’t near ready, and I still smelled like another woman.  Scratch that.  Two other women.  In the next 10 painful minutes, I scurry to prepare myself and walk out the door attempting to act as natural as possible.  This was extremely difficult with my stomach doing back flips and my head pounding like a bass drum.  I wanted to throw up.

“How was your night?” she asks with a smile…

It’s February 25th, and other students have begun to receive acceptance letters from their schools of choice.  I’ve been hearing talk all day about who got into where, and I’m burning with anticipation.  I couldn’t take it anymore.  As the lunch bell sounds I grab my backpack and head for the parking lot, which as always is guarded by our campus cop Buck.

“Where you headed Gideon?”

In a flash, I have to decide my course of action.  Do I lie, make up some excuse and hope he buys it?  Or do I level with him?  I chose the latter.

“Sir, I’ve been hearing all day that colleges are mailing out acceptance letters, and I haven’t gotten one yet.  I’m anxious as hell and can’t stay here another minute.”

Buck looks past me for a moment as if to ensure that we weren’t under surveillance, and then smiles.  

“Let me know tomorrow what you find.”

As I pull into the driveway at my mom’s apartment, I slam the truck into park and sprint for the mailbox.  I stand there for a moment as if I might decide not to open it.  After a few seconds, I dig into my pocket for the key and jam it into the keyhole.  As I pry the door open, my eyes are immediately drawn to a large yellow package.  Pulling it out, I can’t help but notice “Pepperdine University” stamped on the side.  Sprinting up the stairs, and tearing wildly at the package, I have to catch myself from falling four times. 

The first word I see after opening the box is: CONGRATULATIONS!  A sigh of relief.  I’m in.  This is it.  This is what I have been waiting for.  For years, this is what I’ve been working for.  And it’s over.

I run through my phone list budgeting only 30 seconds for each call.  My friends are all excited.  My sister is proud.  My mother is in tears.  Just one last call to make.  Dad.  On one hand, it’s a call I don’t want to make.  I fear that my enthusiasm will be met with more doubts.  But on the other, maybe he’ll be proud of me?

“Dad?”

“Hey there Sport Fan.”

“Do you have a minute?”

“Sure, what’s the word?”

Here goes. 

“Well, I got my acceptance letter today from Pepperdine.”

Silence.

“Did you?”

And the let down.

“Um, yeah.  The whole package with my financial aid and scholarships and everything.”

“Well, how much is it going to cost?”

I knew it. 

“They estimate that it costs about thirty six thousand a year with tuition, books, room and board, and they’re offering me thirty thousand in scholarships.”

“Seems kinda silly to get thirty thousand and still have more to pay, doesn’t it?  I mean, if you were at the _________, you wouldn’t pay a dime.  In fact, they’d be paying you to go to school!  And who’s to say that that same money will be available all four years?”

I don’t care that he had a point.  I don’t care that he might be right.  For once, why won’t he just support my decision?  Forget it. 

It is February 2nd of 2002, and I have an interview with an admissions counselor from Pepperdine University. My dad picks me up from school just before lunch for our trip downtown, and as soon as I close the car door, he asks me,

“Are you ready for this? This is what you’ve been working for. The last 4 years… the last 8 years… You’ve been working for this. The tutors, the late nights, everything.”

“I know dad.”

Silence.

“You know, your Pappy didn’t graduate high school.”

“I know, you got your G.E.D. though.”

“When I was in the 10th grade, I went to work for my dad doing drywall. School was always pretty easy for me, so I just made a deal with the teachers that allowed me to take the tests and pass the classes without actually showing up. Well one day the principal grabbed me walking down the hall and pulled me into his office and accused my of smoking pot at school, which I hadn’t done. He told me to confess, or take suspension. I went home and talked to your grandpa, and I told him that I hadn’t done it, and that I wasn’t going to confess. Further, I wasn’t going to take suspension, because I was dropping out. At that point son, I was making twenty bucks an hour; that’s double what any of those teachers were making. So I said forget it, what do I need school for? Your Grandpa told me that I was a man, and that I could make that decision for myself, so I never went back. Your Grandpa never made it to the 9th grade. He’s a brilliant engineer, a gift that God has granted him, but he has had no formal education.”

I’ve heard this story before, but for some reason, this is the first time that I really understand what my success means to my dad. That’s why he pushes, and that’s why I never feel like I’ve done enough, but I can’t fault him for that.

When we arrive at the hotel where the interviews are taking place, we’re escorted into the lobby by a young, attractive woman with a big smile,

“Shannon will be right out to meet with you.”

“Thanks.” I said smiling back. The fact that I would be meeting with a woman was music to my ears. Over the past 3 years, I had become very adept to charming the opposite sex.

In the next few minutes, the last 4 years flashed before my eyes. Am I here already? Has it really been 4 years? And it had… I was just too busy to notice. Somewhere between school, work, and baseball, high school had passed me by.

Before too long, I’m greeted by another attractive young women,

“Hi Gideon, my name is Shannon.”

“Pleased to meet you ma’am, thank you for taking the time to chat with me.”

“Well the pleasure is all mine,” she says with a smile. “Now, some of the interviewers here have a very… structured approach to interviewing, but I feel that those methods defeat the purpose of these interviews.” Placing her hand on mine, she says “I want to know you. I’ve seen your transcripts, and I’ve seen your test scores… I want to know you.”

On one hand, I understand that her job is to be personable and friendly, but is it just the 18 year old in me hoping that she’s not just asking about my extracurriculars? For a brief moment, my mind wanders and I imagine Shannon leading me to the elevator to finish the interview in her room.

We talked for what seemed like only minutes, but by the time we left the hotel, we had been there for over 3 hours.

“So how did it go?” My dad asks.

“Uh. Really well I guess. She said that they have a great Sports Medicine program.”

“Did she mention how people afford it?”

I knew this was coming.

“Well, she mentioned that my grades and sports and everything would qualify me for a bunch of scholarships… and she said that even though she is still paying on loans from her education, that it is the easiest check she writes each month.” Stupid.

“It costs $40K per year after room and board. The University of _________ is only a quarter of that.”

I don’t know where it came from, but it came quick, “well I don’t want a dollar from you. This is my education.”

More silence. All the way home.

It’s midnight, and I’ve been laying wide awake next to my sleeping wife for the last 2 hours. Again an opportunity to write.

In my first entry, I intentionally told you very little about myself, and I will continue to make my entries as anonymous as possible. Perhaps one day a friend, acquaintance or family member will come across this journal and identify me through recognition of experiences. I would imagine that when that time comes, my story will spread like wild fire to everyone who ever knew me. I only hope that those close to me have the wisdom to understand that I am not the boy I once was.

Today is March 7th, 2007, and I graduated from the University of _______ only two short years ago. In the Spring of 2005, 3 months prior to graduation, I met the girl of my dreams (let’s call her Cali); I knew immediately that I would one day make her my wife. After graduation I began my career at a prestigious professional firm where I work an abominable number of hours. So far I have proven very successful, and the future looks bright. Six months after meeting Cali, I asked her to be my wife, and we were married eight months later.

That is me today. The hardworking, newly married young man. What you will read over the next few weeks is not not a story of that man, but of a different boy completely…

For 2 years it’s been on my heart to reopen the closed doors of my past.  Until now, I’ve bit my tongue in an attempt to save those around me from undue torment, but I’ve held on too long.  I’m not sure where this journal will go, or even if it will continue past next week, but the urge to write keeps me up at  night.

The Basics: The entries you will read over the next few weeks will be a chronological account of my college experience as a fraternity man.  I will tell of everything from true love and fraternity rituals to devastating lies and everlasting brotherhood.  I welcome your comments, and hope that you enjoy what follows.

I would imagine that before long, my audience will be fairly fragmented amongst young men, young women, and parents alike.  To you, whoever you are, pay attention.  There are lessons to be learned from my victories, and my mistakes.