She towered above me — clearly above average in height, similar to how I was “below average.” The game was kick ball, or soccer, or some other such “ball game” that I hated because I hate all “games.” I’m not a sports person. I’m short, stocky and uncoordinated. Sports are not my forte. This game was meant to be an icebreaker for an honor fraternity. Before long I began to wonder if it might also become a “leg breaker” for lil’ ole’ me.
“Get her!” one of my teammates yelled.
‘Her’ was the 6’3” girl and my teammate was suggesting I stop this rocket on her way to the goal.
“You get her!” I retorted. “She’ll kill me!”
And I was quite convinced she could kill me, with just a quick stomp and a twist of her foot. I didn't know her at all, so I didn't know if she had the personality to kill a person, but at the time I thought she had the build. Luckily I only had to deal with her during these honor fraternity meetings. Or so I thought.
At the end of my freshman year my roommate had moved out and one day I returned from class to find a note scrawled on the memo board on my dorm room door. It was her -- the towering competitor and she was looking to move from the suite, where she bunked with other members of the basketball team (what? You’re surprised she was on the basketball team? I did mention she is 6’3” right?) to the all-girls dorm where I lived. She knew I was looking for a roommate and now she was too.
I was immediately doubtful, fearful and all-out intimidated. Not only was this girl tall, but she had a strong, towering personality. I was quite sure that in addition to physically stomping me she could also destroy me on the court of emotions, social get togethers and academically.
I was right about all three -- to a point. When she met with me to ask if I would consider being her roommate I said, “yes” of course. I mean, seriously, she could have picked me up by shirt and tossed me against a wall with one hand. OK. OK. I’m lying exaggerating. But I did say “yes.” She, by the way, was K.K. (nickname of course) -- she comments on my blog from time-to-time as Former Roommate.
At the beginning of the fall semester of our sophomore years we both started to move in, with her having already chose her side of the room. Our parents met. Her parents were as tall as she. My parents were as short as I. It was like members of the “Club of Opposites” gathering for their first ever meeting. Officers were chosen, greetings were exchanged, laughs were ...er...laughed, and it appeared maybe this wouldn’t be as frightening as I first thought.
For years my dad would tell the story of how he witnessed K.K. stretch out of her legs from one side of the hallway to the other and climb up the walls to the ceiling without even breaking a sweat. Why did she do it? Who knows. She’s K.K.
We roomed together for two years. During the last year we both thought we’d kill each other. I was laid-back (sloppy and lazy) and she was organized (uptight). I liked to go out and have fun (goof off when I should have been studying) and she liked to lock herself in our room and pour over her books (lock herself in our room and pour over her books).
Luckily I lived at home my final year of college, working full time at a newspaper and commuting to college (the dumbest thing, by far, that I have.ever.ever.ever.done. By the end of that year I was a walking zombie, a raving lunatic -- more so than usual -- I quit my job at the newspaper and started dating my future husband. Wait, that last bit was a bad thing at all. Never mind.) and therefore our relationship never came to homicide.
We were definitely the odd couple on our small college campus. It wasn’t only our size that was odd, but our personalities. I was slightly shy, she was very outgoing; I was not at all athletic (as previously mentioned), she was involved first in basketball and later in track and field. During track and field she threw the shot-put and used to practice in our room. I patiently waited for her to knock my head off someday when that huge iron ball accidentally flew out of her hand and sailed across the room. Obviously that possible tragedy never occurred.
In addition to our differences, there were also similarities. We both dealt with panic attacks. We both never thought we’d find a boyfriend/husband our height. We were both amazingly brilliant. Ha. Yeah...um....no. She was brilliant and I “just got by” when it came to academics. She graduated first in our class and works for the state of Pennsylvania now, doing something with numbers. She was an economics major (I’m sure she’ll correct me on this.) and numbers make my head spin and my stomach feel all queasy.
We taught each other a lot about life. She taught me how to preserve and push through the tough times. She also taught me that what others think about you isn’t as important as you think it is.
I’m pretty sure I taught her the proper way to cry through a Hallmark movie, which includes watching all the commercials (like that one where the dad goes outside in the winter, walks up a hill in his winter gear, ax in hand, then stands on the hill and opens a card, all the while a woman’s voice is narrating about how she and her dad went out every Christmas Eve to choose and cut down a Christmas tree and then the dad *sob* opens the card and *sniffle* *snort* *sob* with tears in his eyes he looks up at the stars and her voice says “I wish I could be there in person this year, but I’m there in my heart,” or some other such sappy nonsense) in addition to the movie so as not to break up the intense crying session.
We both found our “knights in shining armor.” Mine was sitting behind a desk at a newspaper office, ink running through his veins, just like me; hers caught her attention on a safe on line dating site and later they both peered across the tops of heads at Hershey Park’s Chocolate World and fell in love. Her knight, by the way, is 6’8”. Their daughter is already 5’ tall at the age of 2 1/2. OK, not really, but I’m pretty sure she’ll be able to use my child as a step stool by the time she’s 4.
We live about three hours from each other, communicating mainly through e-mail and blog comments these days. We’ve seen the good, the bad, and all that is in between of each other’s lives. And I still find myself looking up to her like an apprentice would to his or her master, like a younger sibling looks up to their older sibling, and yes, like a dwarf looks up to a giant (before anyone else makes that joke).
I need another three or four blog posts to describe what your friendship has meant to me, Former Roommate, so tune in from time-to-time I’m sure I’ll share a few more stories about us.
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