My life is a complicated one. I used to go out a lot, meet a lot of people, but now I don’t feel like meeting anyone. My ginger brown complexion, long brown hair, and nice shape definitely turn heads. But I don’t care about heads turning anymore, because I’m content with life. I used to think I needed a man, but now I know better. Actually, now I see I don’t need one at all. I wish other women would realize that, too. Getting on talk shows arguing over men who lie and cheat and writing books about men. Who needs a man anyway? I don’t. I met a man who proved it to me. Here is my story.
First I’ll tell you all about the boah, Emar. I met him one cold, rainy Wednesday morning as I was walking across Temple University ‘s campus. I know the exact time, 11:40, because I was coming from an anthropology class I had forced myself to attend. Once I arrived at the class, I was told my professor would not be in. Damn. I had gotten up for nothing. I was mad as hell. I can’t believe I’m only a sophomore and still have two more years of this shit.
It was one of those days when you just wanted to stay under the covers. That day, the sun must have gone on vacation and a nasty gray sky was subbing for it. It had to be about twenty-seven degrees outside, with freezing rain. I had on a gray sweat suit with a white tee hanging out and my Nike jogging sneakers. I was wearing my big coat, but the cold air was still going through my layers. Besides my coat, the only thing that somewhat protected me was my umbrella.
In no way did I feel attractive. I knew everybody else was feeling the exact same way–except for this one girl who was coordinated to the tee. Now, how some women manage to look like runway models when it’s pouring down raining, I will never understand.
She was carrying a green, navy, and maroon plaid umbrella and wearing a navy beret that was tilted to the side with her hair peeking out. She also had on a navy wool pea coat with a maroon scarf wrapped around her neck that set it off just right. I was impressed. Here it was, I almost couldn’t wake up and sis was looking like she was about to pose for Vogue magazine. All she needed was a poodle to walk and she would have been picture-perfect.
Well, back to my story.
It was cold and I was heading back to my small dorm room at Hardwick Hall when out of nowhere this guy came and got under my umbrella. I gave him a look like, “What the fuck?”
He smiled, and all I saw was his perfect gleaming white teeth, slanted eyes, and oak brown skin. He was about 6-feet 4-inches tall, with jet black hair. He also had a goatee and a little bit of peach fuzz above his lip.
“What’s up, sis, can I get under here with you?” he asked with a huge smile.
I didn’t say yes or no. He didn’t give me a chance. All I knew was somehow he had steered me around and I was now walking in the opposite direction of my dorm.
“Where we going? I don’t know you. Getting all under my umbrella like that. I never saw you on campus. You could be a killer.” I jerked my arm away from his grip. Who the hell did he think he was, anyway? He was cute, but he wasn’t all that.
“My bad. I’m not no killer. I don’t bite and you never saw me ’cause I’m always on the road. You don’t know me? You like basketball?”
“Yeah, I like basketball. Just not college ball. Why?” I said, shrugging. ”Why not college ball?”
”’Cause you don’t know none of the guys who are playing. It’s just a bunch of nobodies running up and down the court.”
“I guess I’m one of those nobodies. I’m Emar Gerson and I play point guard for the Owls,” he said, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe I didn’t know who he was.
“Really,” I said, embarrassed. “Yes, really.”
“Where you got me walking to anyway?” I asked, trying to change the subject.
“I don’t know. You want to get some coffee or something?” he asked as he glanced at his watch.
“I don’t drink coffee, but maybe I can get a tea or something.” So I walked with this cute stranger to the coffeehouse, which was in the middle of the campus student activity center. It was packed. Like us, everyone was trying to stay warm.
As we made our way in, it seemed as if everyone was speaking to Emar, who just nodded his head up like, “What’s up?” and kept walking. It made sense that everyone knew him because he was a senior and had been at Temple four years, plus he was a star basketball player. Watching him, I was so intrigued with his coolness that I almost bumped into some airhead freshman girls who were just all in the way.
“Hey, E,” they said, giggling.
He didn’t respond. As a matter of fact, he acted as if he didn’t know them. He kept me from colliding into the blushing girls by nudging me slightly out of the way. Emar ordered my tea and his coffee and found a table for us. I grabbed us some sugar and poured pack after pack into my hot, steaming tea. Then I leaned forward and inhaled the vapor of this man who stood before me. It was a long, deep breath. Whooph. Emar was the mar, short for marvelous–or was it just that I could marvel all day?