“Hey, listen, we need a new technology chair,” Ross said one day before football practice. We’d been working together for a year and a half and I liked him. He had a barrel chest and kinda remind me of Fred Flinstone (if Fred had a buzzcut and a smaller nose).
“Who does?” I hesitated the way you do when you know someone’s going to ask you to commit to something you haven’t thought about.
“Marathon,” he said. He meant the Dance Marathon. He talked about it all the time. Every year they had hundreds of students sign up to participate, pledging to raise money and to dance for 18 hours straight. “It’s for Riley, Beau,” he reminded me, referring to the Riley Hospital for Children in Indianapolis. I was familiar with it; Mom used to work there when I was younger. She had millions of stories about the miracles they performed there.
You’d have to be a real jerk to to turn down helping a children’s hospital. But, football was already a 45-hour a week job on top of 15 credit hours. And I had an internship with my web dev prof. “What kinda time commitment we talking?” I asked.
Ross lit up because he knew he had me. “Only a couple hours a week. Tech’s easy too. You run the website, make sure we have projectors, take photos, that sort of thing.”
“When’s it start?” I said mentally jockeying my schedule and thinking this would be a good thing for my resume if I somehow didn’t enjoy it.
“Chair Election’s tonight actually. If you’re in it’s yours though. Let’s grab dinner after practice and go together.” He smiled slyly. “There’s some really hot girls there,” he added as if he needed a clincher.
I rolled my eyes and shrugged. I’d been to club callouts before and the sorts of zealots they attracted usually made the experience less than ideal for dating. “Let’s do it,” I agreed. He pounded me on the back and rushed off to practice.
That evening he lead me to a general purpose room in one of the many halls on campus where I met a couple dozen amazing people. Many of them were in fraternities or sororities and were nothing like the stuck-up douchebags you see in movies. They were kind, funny, energetic people who made you feel important when they spoke to you. It reminded me of the church youth groups my friends convinced me to go to at various points in my life. Instead of Jesus, they were committed to the mission, and, more importantly didn’t treat racy jokes and stories of debauchery like they would consign you to Hell.
Ross was right, all of the women were beautiful; not because they were pretty, but because of how determined they were to help the children in the video the liaison from the hospital showed us at the start of the meeting.
“This is who you’re helping,” she said while we saw bald five year olds smile so brightly, like the cancer that threatened their lives didn’t even exist. “You’re giving them a chance to grow up.” I thought about how unfair it was that some kids never got to learn to drive or go to college or fall in love. If I hadn’t already been ready to join up, this would have had me committed. I needed to help these kids who didn’t blink at death. I’d certainly stop complaining about having to get up at 6am on Fridays for a lab section; I should be lucky I didn’t have to worry about having a next week.
You can probably tell by my tone that I became one of these Marathon people that night. I won the tech chair by unanimous vote (I ran unopposed) and everyone was relieved that the role was filled. Their gratitude motivated me to give them my very best.
Afterwards, the executive board crowded around a table laden with Chick-fil-a nuggets. Our Riley liaison had bought ten dozen with her own money “in case anyone hadn’t eaten yet”—emphasizing the sort of person that this initiative attracted. Ross sidled up next to me and pounded me on the back again. “Well Diddles?” He asked. My football nickname was Beau Diddley and it wasn’t long before camaraderie shortened it to Diddles.
I grinned at him. “I’m gonna rebuild the website. I’ll have a design by the next committee meeting. Do we have an email address for the organization?”
His return grin was positively ferocious.
The Marathon usually took place in late March or early April, so in January, when we came back from winter break for the spring semester, we started serious campaigning for donations. One of our biggest initiatives was something we called “Stuffing Parties.” When our dancers signed up, they gave us names and addresses of people they thought would be interested in donating to our cause. Our family outreach folks would write a heartfelt letter imploring the recipient for their help and we’d turn it into Microsoft word template. We’d use a large excel spreadsheet to personalize a letter and an envelope to our prospective donor.
We’d meet in a little office usually reserved for the Purdue student government beneath the student union, order a few pizzas and spend hours printing letters, matching them to envelopes, folding and sealing them. It was incredibly monotonous but made fun because someone would bring an iPod dock and play music while we worked. We’d trade stories about frat party adventures or recite our favorite movie bits.
I was able to dodge some papercuts because I set up a crude email script that would make current software developers weep and modern spam filters laugh. But Jim, a member of the student activities office and our faculty liaison, helped me work with the school’s IT department to get a database and email server so I could cobble it together. It helped us reach a few thousand donors, but our IT contacts asked me to send emails in bursts. I’d run the script with a 50 addresses or so, sit a minute, pick the next 50 addresses and so on.
The night I was doing this, Eric the student body president was hanging out with us and helping. He often did because he had a key to the office. He was an annoyingly handsome guy, but so charismatic you had no choice to like him.
“So I’m organizing a pub crawl for Valentine’s Day,” he said. Most of the room groaned and lamented how much dating sucked. Eric held up a finger. “Hang on, you’re all correct. This is for Singles Appreciation Day.” Everyone loved this. “I’m gonna have T-shirts made. I think I’m gonna run a contest for cheesy pickup lines.”
“Did it hurt?” Ross said. “When you fell from heaven?”
“Are you from Memphis?” Liz said affecting a southern accent. “Cuz you’re the only Ten I See!”
Eric laughed. “Yeah exactly stuff like that.”
I stood up. “You ought to use mine,” I said. “My name’s Beau. Wanna be my arrow?” I pantomimed shooting an arrow.
“Wait that’s genius,” he said. “I think that’s the one.” I snorted, but he went on. “Can I use that?”
I shrugged. “Sure. I’m not sure anyone will get it, but go ahead.”
“They’ll get it because you’re coming right?” he said.
As a non-drinker a pub crawl was literally not my cup of tea. But I said, “If you get those shirts made, yeah I’ll be there.”
He came over and shook my hand. “We’ll see you there then.”
About a week later, I found myself sitting in the lobby of Britney’s sorority house. She was one of our fundraising executives and she needed help designing a spiral bound book for one of her classes. She’d asked me if I knew how to use publishing software called InDesign.
“Yeah, actually. I used it in high school on the student newspaper. And I took a class on it freshman year.” I smiled. “I’ll be happy to help ya.”
“Shut up,” she said. She was one of those people who could use the phrase effectively as an inoffensive interjection. “Give me your number and we’ll meet at DG.”
So there I sat. Sorority protocol insisted that men could not travel the halls unescorted. Britney was busy with something so I sat there for something like ten eternal minutes. At least three women asked me who I was waiting for and, while they were sweet, I had the same ominous feeling you get when you find yourself standing under a hornet’s nest.
“Sorry,” Britney said when she appeared. “I was getting pictures for the thing. Come on.” She led me to her room and I took a seat in front of her computer.
While I talked her through how to use the software she blindsided me. “You like KK don’t you?”
I blinked. “Sure, she’s great.” KK was our Families chairperson. Her role was to work with families we sponsored directly; the folks who would get the most benefit from our fundraising. She helped them tell their stories at events leading up to and during the Marathon.
Britney glared at me and folded her arms. “You know what I mean.” I loved Britney. She was one of those women who didn’t mince words. She knew German and majored in something that would prepare her for law school. She was sassy and tough and it was impossible for her to hide her big golden heart.
I flashed her a half grin. “Yeah. She’s great,” I repeated only this time a little wistfully. KK was a pretty brunette Texan whose eyes filled with stars when she smiled. I’d started falling for her the previous autumn when I saw her playing with one of the Riley kids. She’d kneeled down to speak to the young girl. KK made a face, the girl laughed, KK laughed, and it was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen.
Britney gestured at me like she was waiting for an answer to an obvious question. I didn’t respond so she asked it. “So ask her out.”
I winced. “She’s awfully pretty.” At 21 I still believed it was possible for people to be out of my league; a myth the unconfident use to justify their cowardice.
Britney, bless her, rolled her eyes at me. “What does that have to do with anything?” She said “duh” with everything but her voice. Before I could say anything she said, “You’re a good guy. You’re funny and helpful and very smart.” She thrust a hand at the computer. “Just be confident and it takes care of itself.”
I blinked and she sighed. It wasn’t disdain so much as exasperation. “Nevermind. I’m making this happen.” I blinked. “Yeah. It’s happening. Also move.”
I got out of her chair and she began expertly laying out her booklet. She was either a quick study, or maybe, just maybe didn’t actually need my help at all. “What exactly is your plan?” I asked.
She patted my head and smiled ferociously. I felt pity for anyone who tried to deny this woman. “Don’t worry about it.”
Britney’s first plan involved a charity gala the fundraising team put together. She had hatched a scheme to get me next to KK at dinner and she would maneuver us together. KK was the event’s emcee though, so she turned out to be far too busy to socialize that night.
Brit had a far better opportunity at the end of January. We were having a date auction. I’d told Ross to put me in it. “Announce I will match whatever I go for,” I told him. “That ought to raise my price, right?” He loved the idea. I thought of Larry in Groundhog Day getting sold for a measly quarter.
The night I was to be auctioned off, I sat onstage while Ross jazzed up my bounty. All the ladies on the executive board took turns bidding on me and it started to dawn on me what was happening. They’d pooled their money to jack up my price.
Britney raised her hand with a feral grin. “$450!” She shouted, putting an end to the bids.
Ross was elated. He covered the mic. “You know you don’t have to match all that, right?”
I shook my head. A deal was a deal. Between the three jobs I worked, I had a surplus of cash. Donating to charity was far nobler than blowing it on pizza and video games.
Britney came up to claim me. “You will be our date to Singles Appreciation Day,” she said, putting on airs and hugging KK and Stacey close to her. She winked at me knowingly. And she wasn’t gonna let me off the hook like Ross would’ve. “Let’s see you write the check.” In those days we didn’t have payment processors besides PayPal and you only used that when you bought stuff on eBay. So we wrote checks.
A few auctions later, KK got onstage. I didn’t even need to look at Britney. I did anyway. “You have to,” she mouthed.
A common tactic people do at date auctions is bring their friends to a) run up their price and b) make sure they don’t actually have to go on a date. KK’s roommate Sara was her person. We entered a bidding war. Sara kept upping the price in 10 dollar bids. “How much ya got Watson?” she dared across the room.
I shrugged. “I won’t lose this one.” Britney thumbs upped me. I won’t reveal how much I ended up buying a date with KK for because I don’t want it to seem like I’m bragging. But it was an irresponsible number.
I’d also accidentally bought the marching band’s baton-twirler while trying to force her friend to donate more money for her. “Too rich for me,” he said and I realized with some alarm I’d been too reckless. She came up to me trying not to appear nervous. I told her I wasn’t going to take her out and not to worry. It was just charity. She was as good at hiding her relief as she was her nervousness.
“Well done,” Britney said, patting me on the head. “Let me see you write the check.”
“You actually printed it.” I stared down at the bright red shirt with my cheesy pickup line on it. The words were written in a bold script with a clip art cupid separating the question and punch line.
“I was serious,” Eric said. “I’ll see ya tonight.”
And he did. I met Ross and a Marathon alumnus named Travis at Ross’s apartment. We put on our shirts and headed over to Chauncey Hill, where all the campus bars were located. We found Eric leading a group of thirty or so folks like a mother duck. He waved us over. “Jake’s first. Then Where Else? Then Harry’s. Then…we’ll see. Lessgo!”
I liked Jake’s. They served free popcorn and sold hotdogs, 2 for a buck. Britney found me. “Alright,” she said. “We’re on a mission. You get 1 point for making a girl laugh. That’s it.” She held up a finger to stop my follow-up questions. “Trust me. Go buy her a drink. Don’t be weird.” She nodded to one of the blondes in our group.
“What do I say?” I rarely hung out in bars, and even more rarely flirted with random strangers.
“Dude.” Britney rolled her eyes. “Your name is on the shirt. Go.”
I weaved over to my first test. Screw it. “Hey, what’s up? What’re you having?”
She smiled sympathetically. “Sorry, I’m here with my boyfriend.” She nodded to the tall skinny guy over her shoulder.
Ah great start. “My mistake,” I said and started to leave.
“All good brother,” tall guy said. “We’re here to support Eric. You know him?”
I explained I did through the Marathon. “I’m Beau,” I said pointing at my name on the shirt.
“No way,” Tall said. “You’re the Beau? That’s so sick dude. You’re famous.” He hi-fived me. “What are you drinking?” It’s a shame I didn’t drink because I wouldn’t have had to buy myself a single round that night.
I promised the couple I’d keep an eye out for them as we crawled, but graciously excused myself back to Britney. “She’s with her boyfriend. He’s cool though.”
“Oh boo,” Britney said. She was already looking for my next embarrassment. I wasn’t worried now though. I was the Beau and I was unshakeable.
Near the end of the night, I sat in a booth at Harry’s with KK to my right and Britney across from us. Ross and Travis were loudly singing Journey’s Don’t Stop Believing a few tables away. Ross could actually sing (he sounds a lot like George Strait) but Travis sang like a dying cat. The three of us laughed.
“Beau, go get us a drink,” Britney said.
I needed a water myself. “What do you want?”
“I better do water,” KK said. Her cheeks were awfully rosy.
“I want a Coke,” Britney said.
“Regular or Diet?” I asked.
Britney’s eyes narrowed and she cocked her head, a viper-strike posture I’m sure she had perfected by the time she graduated Kindergarten. “What are you trying to say.” I hesitated and she forgave me instantly. “Regular.” She’s dismissed me.
Her tutoring session of the night had been only slightly costly. But I was still thankful that non alcoholic drinks were free at most bars. I returned to the table and the ladies were discussing something Marathon related. KK threw an arm over my shoulder and kissed my cheek. Britney’s eyebrows rose as she sipped her drink. My cheeks burned.
We chatted for a few minutes and KK kissed my cheek again. “I need to go home. But first! Bathroom!” She left.
Britney leaned over the table. “Okay, now you are going to walk her home.”
I didn’t feel comfortable with what I thought she was suggesting. “She’s pretty tipsy,”
“Yes. Which is exactly why you will walk her home and she will remember what a gentleman you were when you take her on your real date.” She spread her hands. “It’s up to you now.”
I smirked. “How many points did I end up with?”
Britney rolled her eyes. “Who cares. I only made you do that so you’d stop being so goddamn afraid.” She cleared her throat. KK was coming back.
“I’ll walk you home,” I said. Her apartment was only a five minute stroll. “Goodnight Brit.” Ross and Travis were too busy singing Piano Man to notice us leaving.
I got KK safely to her front door. She hugged me tightly and told me I was sweet. “I’ll call you for our date soon.” Her eyes shone and I wondered if she was looking as forward to it as I was.
KK and I did go on our date. Ours was a bowling outing at an alley just outside campus. I felt bad when she picked me up because she was absolutely exhausted. Her flight from Texas to Indiana had been delayed and she was operating on only a couple hours sleep. She didn’t want to reschedule so we went and played a few games; I’m pretty sure she beat me twice and I remember splitting a basket of terrible french fries with her. It was platonic; I was too afraid to make any sort of move because I couldn’t read her. We gossiped about football players and the sorority sisters of hers they dated. We had fun!
A bunch of us Marathoners went out a week or so later and KK ended up leaving with some other taller, fitter, better looking guy. Normally I would have taken this as a massive hit to my ego, but I left that night in a good mood. I remember feeling like I’d at least been worthy of a woman like KK…which led to me thinking that it’s kind of silly to worry about being worthy of anyone at all.
You just have to be yourself and they’re gonna like it or their gonna not. And if not, it’s okay because they’re missing out. It was a hugely pivotal moment for me and my self esteem; the guy I am today was born then. I should just worry about being the Beau and the rest will take care of itself.
Unfortunately, I didn’t realize how much of this I owe to my wingwoman Britney until I started revisiting these memories. Fortunately, I have the internet and was able to find her so I can send her a thank you for this lesson. I’ll tell her you all said hi.
Happy Valentine’s Day :)