"In the spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love." Yeah, right, Tennyson. Tell that to the boys I know! They wouldn't know love if it walked right up to them and kissed them. Mari paused and looked out of the library window. Dust kicked up from the baseball field in the distance. They've been at it all day. Seriously. I'm never going to get a date.
"Being anti-social again?" Jen, her roommate, approached.
Mari quickly closed her journal. "I'm not anti-social."
"Sure, and that's why you're hiding on the third floor library window gazing longingly at the boys who are otherwise occupied," Jen smirked.
"Jen, all they care about is baseball. They do not have any 'thoughts of love' like Tennyson said they're supposed to."
"Who's Tennyson? You don't read poetry? It's one of the most classic lines in all of literature!"
"What line?" Jen's face reflected bewilderment.
"In the spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love." Mari recited.
"Oh. Well, I never heard that one." Jen shook her head. "All I know is that young men sure seem to like baseball, too, so maybe you'd better head down to that baseball field and plant your pretty face where they can see you."
Mari frowned. "But I want the right kind of man."
"You mean, a reading poetry kind of guy? Ha! Well, whether they read poetry or not, you need to take yourself down there so you can snag yourself a testosterone-laden, baseball-playing, spring-loving young man."
Mari raised her eyebrows. "Hmmm....I'll try, but I seriously don't think it'll work."
Jen smiled. "You never know. It sure doesn't hurt to try!"
* * * * *
Just as I thought. This was a ridiculous idea. Not a one has even acknowledged me. Guess I am back to poetry and wishful thinking. Mari set her journal in her lap and looked up. Now close enough to see their faces, she pondered the idea of a spring date.
Rules at the highly conservative Christian college dictated that all freshmen refrained from relationships until their last trimester of the first year, so they might spend time in devotion to God and their studies. Usually most of the class had someone picked out by the time it rolled around, however, and the campus bloomed with spring flowers and new relationships.
The boys she interacted with regularly seemed rather uninterested in dating, however. Most had focused diligently on their studies, and appeared more at ease discussing theology rather than interacting with girls. Mari loved to debate and explore new ideas, so she often participated in group conversations. Perhaps because of this, they saw her more as a pal rather than a potential girlfriend.
For instance, Eric had invited her to join his group of guy friends for an extracurricular lecture one afternoon a few weeks ago. Last week their group visited a local church's Friday night service, and she tagged along as well. And yesterday....
Wait a minute.... Her mind raced, thinking over the recent weeks. In almost all of her interactions with boys recently, Eric had played a prominent role in making sure she was included. And yesterday he had stopped her while leaving class to let her know that she could join them in watching a missionary documentary - tonight.
"Hey." A voice shook her from her reverie. Eric!
Mari looked up at him with a nervous smile. "Oh, hey Eric. How's it going?"
"Great. We're getting slaughtered here by the other team, but it's fun." He shifted his feet slightly. "Um, you up for seeing that movie with us tonight? I wasn't sure if you were, yesterday. It looks interesting, but it ain't a chick flick or anything." He quickly added, "Oh, yeah, and we're gonna get some ice cream after the game here, and you could totally come along, unless you're busy with your journaling...."
Mari quickly shut her journal. "No, I'm not too busy. I'd love some ice cream. It's great that it's warm enough already to eat it."
"I know, I love spring," he said.
"Well, I gotta get back to the game." He repositioned his cap. "Wish me luck - I'm up next to bat."
Mari smiled broadly. "Good luck. I know you'll do great."
He grinned. "Thanks. See ya after the game."
As Eric jogged away, Mari reopened her journal. Note to self: she scribbled. Don't question Tennyson. He's got those boys all figured out.
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