I picked her up in accounting class. Simple as that. My prowess with Canadian GAAP and T-charts caught her attention and she was mine within the hour. Well, that's not exactly how it happened, but I was never a stickler for details. However, we did meet in 2nd year accounting class, second semester.
I used to sit way in the back, near the door, where all the other accounting geniuses sat. It has always been a theory of mine that you can judge how well someone is going to do in a class, based on where they are sitting. Front row: aces. Back row: summer school. Of course, you do have those hopeless morons who sit at the front and waste everyone's time with stupid questions, but no theory is perfect.
By chance, Frances sat in the row in front of me one day. The midterms were being handed back and everyone was getting butchered. 52%, 41%, the marks were getting progressively worse as they apporached the back. Those in the last row with me were starting to sweat. Then they called my name. I raised my hand, accepted the paper expecting the worst and to my surprise, I got 76%! Good Lord, I didn't study either! People around me were mildly impressed, but it did give Fran the perfect opportunity to move in.
She asked if she could borrow my exam and some of my other assignments to compare to hers. I said ok. I didn't even think she knew who I was. Then she asked if I could write my number down in her little Mickey Mouse agenda. I was still clueless as to what she getting at. Then she asked if we could meet up during one of our common spares to study accounting together. Nothing. Ok, so I'm not always the sharpest knife in the kitchen. Sue me.
The day we planned to meet, I found myself wandering around near the Bear Pit a little early for no real reason. And who should I run into but good ol' Frances? She had come to school late and decided to skip the remainder of her Finance class, and was just killing time until our meeting. What luck.
I don't quite remember what we did that day, but I do remember trying to convince her to skip her next class and accompany me to my philosophy class (Plato and Aristotle), but she refused. I guess she didn't like me that much yet. Anyway, from that day onward, I started smiling a lot more at school. Started going more too.
I'm not sure if this next bit happened before, after or during the last thing I wrote about, but here it is anyway:
I stayed a little later at school one day and wandered into the library of all places. Two very uncharacteristic things for me - and there she was, in her grey T, faded blue jeans and her brown boy's leather jacket. She was sitting at a computer that was reserved for people in wheelchairs, tap-tap-tapping away.
I approached her (uncharacteristic thing #3) and said hello. She smiled and asked me to wait for her. I did and we took the bus to Finch station together that day. The whole way back we were wrapped up in a conversation about nothing, laughing like a pair of demented hyenas, much to the displeasure of the people around us.
Upon arriving at the station, we had to part ways. But as we waited for our respective buses, I showed her my model walk (the way they strut down the catwalk). She was so entranced that she missed her bus.
We usually sat next to each other in class from that point on, and the days we didn't, we would casually wait outside the door for each other, an unwritten agreement had been passed.
I began to realize that I was developing something of a crush on her once I noticed that I would hover around the library whenever I had a spare or arrived at school early, in hopes that I would catch her there, clicking away on the computer for the handicapped. But I never saw her there again.
We began talking on the phone once or twice a week. It grew to three or four days a week, and soon it was every night for hours and hours. Then, one day while we were walking down the hall, she casually slipped her hand into mine and continued walking. I couldn't believe the luck that had befallen me. Still can't.
Happy Birthday Fran.