I was a bench-warmer in the dating game

by Steven James

My high school basketball coach had always told us that girlfriends and sports don't mix: "You don't have time for both."

Three guesses which one I chose.

Yup. My memories of high school are filled with steaming locker rooms, high-fives, shrieking whistles, stinky uniforms and expensive shoes.

But when I got to college, I began to rethink my decision. Especially when I met Renee. She was attractive, witty, playful. When I saw her walking across campus, I began to wonder if it was finally time to check into the dating game.

One blustery day in mid-November, I decided I would ask Renee out--my first date ever. I attended a small Bible college in rural Minnesota. We already had over two feet of snow, and ice-covered sidewalks. Instead of tramping across campus over the ice, I arranged through a friend to meet Renee at chapel that evening. I'd ask her out then.

At chapel, I scrutinized the crowd for Renee as the auditorium slowly filled. Where was she? Throughout the service, I kept glancing over my shoulder to see if she had snuck in the back. Nothing. I was starting to feel like she'd stood me up, and I hadn't even asked her out yet.

Finally, I heard the last "Amen" and scurried to the front doors. As everyone filed out, I scanned their faces. There she was, only a few feet away! My heart began to slam against the inside of my chest.

"Hello, Steve."

"Uh, hello, Renee."

"I got out of class late and had to slip in the back. Did you want to talk to me?"

By now, we were being moved toward the door, pushed along by the crowd. I dove into the carefully prepared speech I had perfected after dinner in front of my mirror. "Ha, yeah . . . I, um . . . well, there are a bunch of us going to the movie tonight, and I was wondering if you could, I mean if you would, I mean I would completely understand if you couldn't, it's really short notice and everything, but I was wondering if you might possibly consider maybe. . . . "

By now, we had reached the oak doors. I paused to grab a breath and push open the door. Renee took advantage of the momentary silence and asked, "Steve, are you trying to ask me to go out with you?"

I'd never thought of putting it quite like that. For a moment, I stood in the doorway blocking traffic, then I stepped out into the night. "Uh huh."

I was petrified. What would she say? "No thanks, Steve"? Maybe some other time"? "I have a lot of homework"? --just like she'd said in my mind hundreds of time already.

But she didn't. "Why, yes. I'd love to."

Perhaps it was the shock of hearing her say yes. Maybe it was that I had stepped onto a patch of ice that the custodial crew had overlooked when they were salting the sidewalk. For whatever reason, my left foot shot out in front of me, my right foot slipped behind me, and for the first and only time in my life I did the splits.

Traffic stopped. Time stopped. My life stopped. Two dozen upperclassmen peered down at me. I just wanted to disappear.

Renee knelt down. "Are you okay, Steve?"

"Ah, sure, yeah, no big deal. I'll meet you in the Student Union at 7:00 p.m. Okay?"

"Okay. You're sure you're not hurt?"

"Positive," I lied.

As Renee walked away, I groaned, rolled over and crawled back up the steps into the chapel, thinking I was the biggest idiot in the history of the world.

But I decided to forget about it and move on. I mean, what else could possibly go wrong? At 6:50 p.m., I plopped down on a couch in the Student Union and waited.

A few minutes later, Renee walked in. She looked stunning. "Are you ready, Steve?"

"Yeah. Let's go and meet Jeff and Linda in The Pit. They said we can ride with them."

The Pit was a lounge connecting two residence halls. No one wanted to go for long walks outside in the winter, and since we weren't allowed in the rooms of students of the opposite sex, couples would hang out at The Pit to kiss and cuddle and hug. Things got pretty physical in The Pit.

Linda and Jeff never showed up, and by the time we decided to drive by ourselves, the movie had already started. I'm thinking, "Great! What a date so far!"

Renee and I hurried to my sister's car, only to find that the storm had deposited a quarter-inch of ice over the entire car. It took me 10 minutes just to chip the ice away from the lock and open the door. Once inside, I searched frantically for an ice scraper. Nothing. Trying to improvise, I started scraping ice off the windows with a plastic Band-Aid container. Finally, I turned to Renee and said, "Hey, this is more than a date. Think of it as an adventure!"

She smiled politely and glanced at her watch. She may have been trying to think of a graceful way to bow out of the date, but it was too late. I had started the car, and we were already sliding out of the parking lot.

As we neared the movie theatre, I slammed on the brakes, and we slid to a halt just inches away from a parking meter. "See, an adventure," I said.

"An adventure," she agreed nervously, releasing her death-grip on the dashboard.

Once inside, all of my troubles disappeared. Who cares if a few things weren't going the way I'd planned? I was finally an active participant in the dating game. As the movie credits rolled, I tried to come up with a way to make the evening last longer. I blurted out the most romantic thing I could think of: "Hey, Renee, wanna go to McDonald's for a cheeseburger?"

"Okay. I'd like that," she said.

After a bite to eat, we shared dessert and talked and laughed and wished the night would never end. At 1:00 a.m., we returned to the lobby of her residence hall. To get there, we would need to go through The Pit.

On the way, I realized it was almost time for us to say good night. All my years of basketball practice had failed to prepare me for this moment. I would have to do something like hug or maybe even kiss her. But was that going too far on the first date? Before I could decide what to do, we had stepped inside The Pit.

Fortunately, The Pit was nearly empty. Only one couple was standing in the corner embracing, sucking noisily on each other's lips. After an awkward moment of silence, I reached out my hand and said, "Thank you, Renee. I had a great time."

She looked quizzically at my hand and then at my face to see if I was being serious. Finally, she held out her hand. "Thanks. Me too."

As the words left her mouth, the sucking sounds behind me stopped abruptly. Then a senior I didn't know said, "Aren't you gonna give her a good night kiss?"

I didn't know what to say! I motioned to Renee to step outside with me. "Uh, Renee, I'm kinda new at this sort of thing."

"So I noticed."

"Look, I'm not sure how to say good night."

"Just give me a hug."

There, just outside The Pit, we hugged. Then she disappeared through the doorway, calling, "Thanks for the adventure!"

In the next few weeks, we spent lots of time together, talking, doing homework, going for walks. We even moved up from a hug to a good night kiss. But we never hung out in The Pit. We were too busy just enjoying each other's company. The more time we spent together, the more time I wanted to spend with her. But I began to notice that Renee was hinting that she might not return to school after Christmas.

The day before vacation started, we met at a Chinese retaurant for supper. We reminisced about the last month and laughed at each other's fumbled attempts to eat with chopsticks. Eventually, our conversation died, and Renee began to quietly fumble with her food. "Steve, I'm not coming back to school. I need some time off. I want to work, and I'm tired of classes."

I nodded in the deep silence, letting her words sink in. "Yeah, I figured that, Renee. . . . So, what about us?"

She looked away and picked at her food. Neither of us spoke for a long time. So, we both knew the answer.

Outside the restaurant, I turned to her. "Renee, I'm kinda new at this. I'm not sure how to say good bye."

"I know, Steve. Just give me a hug."

After a few moments, she walked away.

All during Christmas vacation, I thought, "Maybe she'll come back after all." In January, I wrote her letter after letter trying to convince her to return. In February, I waited in vain for a Valentine's card. In March and April, I began to wonder if I would ever see her again.

In May, I stopped wondering when I received her wedding invitation. She was marrying some guy named Anthony from her home town. They had only recently met. I'd never heard of him before. I ached with loneliness and confusion. How could this happen?

I decided the only way to face my feelings was to go to Renee's wedding. The six-hour drive seemed to last forever. Finally, after the ceremony and reception, I got the chance to talk to Renee and her new husband.

Renee smiled and whispered, "Thanks for coming." Then she pulled me toward the groom. "Anthony, I want you to meet Steve. Steve, Anthony."

Anthony was a tall, handsome, friendly looking man. He swung out his arm to shake my hand.

Suddenly, as I shook his hand, I realized something. Despite all the ridiculous things that happened on the first date and all those that followed, I had done nothing with Renee to be ashamed of. I had no regrets. Even if Renee were to tell him everything we did while we were together, even when we were alone, I would still be able to look him in the eye.

Sure, I was a little sad when I left that night, but I was glad for one thing; Renee had not been embarrassed to introduce me to her husband.

I had learned the first rule of the dating game.

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