RandomPokesCold Jealousy
Steve Dennie
I spent four years at a Matchmaking Factory, otherwise known as a Christian college. Like most of my fellow students, I expected to find a mate before graduating. I thought a spouse came with the tuition.
We are happy to inform you that you have been accepted for the fall semester. Our student body offers the finest in lifetime companions, most of the conservative evangelical persuasion, and all of whom long to get married ASAP. As a special service to our students, we also offer academic courses.
I thought I found The One during my sophomore year. She was a freshman named Christine, and I was crazy about her. We went out once, twice, things clicked, and we were racing madly down Lovesick Lane.
Christine and I placed Christ at the center of our relationship. We read the Bible and prayed together, attended Christian events, encouraged each other in ministering to classmates, and shared deeply from our spiritual lives.
It was a great relationship. I would quickly cast aside homework in favor of a phone call. Or a Coke. Or a late-night walk. Or anything--as long as it included Christine. She was the star in my universe.
Then, without warning, Christine went nova.
It happened after what seemed like the longest Christmas vacation in galactic history. As we sat in her dorm lounge getting caught up on the past three weeks, I knew something was wrong. Finally, she came out with it. After a brief lull in our conversation, she lowered her head and resurfaced with a serious expression.
"I have something to tell you," she began.
Uh oh.
"I've been having doubts about our relationship. After a lot of thinking and prayer, I feel we should break up."
Surprise, surprise.
Ever the good sport, I didn't try to dissuade her. Christine obviously had her mind set. If she wanted a split, I'd play along. I acted like she'd told me nothing more damaging than that my shoe was untied, and I left in a cheerful mood, which lasted at least 15 seconds.
Back at Wright Hall, I plopped onto my bed and began cultivating the joys of abject depression.
I considered us the perfect couple, and so did nearly everyone else on campus. We weren't--I realize that now. But when you're absorbed in a relationship, you don't see things clearly. All objectivity flees to Venus.
I had committed our relationship to the Lord, but I never gave God permission to end it. How dare Him! I figured God would realize His terrible mistake and patch things up.
But then I got to thinking--maybe God took Christine away on purpose, maybe to focus attention on my spiritual deficiencies. God knew that every time something went wrong, I suddenly got righteous, straightened out whatever needed straightened, promised to sin no more, and came begging for heavenly help. I knew my theology: when you make your life right, God feels guilty about letting the problem occur, and He solves it.
It had worked before. Let's try again.
I knelt by my bed and confessed every sin I had even read about since age 12. I promised to try harder, and thanked God for causing the whole breakup so I could correct my spiritual weaknesses. Then, stretching out on my bed, I put on a happy face and forced myself to feel joyful and content, sort of as proof of my changed condition.
And I waited for God's instant answer. A phone call would do nicely. Or maybe a pebble would strike my window, and I'd look out to find Christine standing there. All the while, a pesky little thought kept ricocheting around--that maybe God wasn't playing my game this time.
I'll never forget that cold winter night during the third week when I saw Christine with another guy, someone I didn't know. It was at a concert in the student union building. I sat far behind them, staring at them, ignoring the band. Pondering.
After the concert, I watched them go to Christine's car and drive away (he didn't have a car). I returned to the dorm, but all I could think about was Christine and Mr. Mystery. How long had she known him? Was he the real reason for the breakup? Where did they go? What were they doing now? Could they--Please God, don't let it happen!--be holding hands?!?
Needing more information, I decided to track them down. Shouldn't be hard in a small college town.
My first guess proved right--I spotted her car at Azar's Big Boy. I parked out back, a little hidden from view, but in a place where I could see them walk to her car. I wanted to see if they were holding hands or even walking close together. That's all. I didn't want to go inside and risk discovery.
I waited in that freezing car for two hours! They gabbed and gabbed, probably guzzling hot chocolate, while I sat in the car shivering my rivets loose. A high price to pay for jealousy.
They finally left, and I watched every move...with relief.
Going to the car, Christine and The Competition walked a good yard apart, hands in their respective pockets. And Christine drove--another good sign. On our first date, before I owned a car, Christine let me drive.
So I went back to the dorm, at peace with the universe.
The next day, I laughed about my silly behavior. I realized, "Steve, you have no claim on Christine. God gave you a great semester with her, but that doesn't mean He wanted you to spend the rest of your lives together. Get on with your life."
Which is what I did.
I'm not sure why, but I told Christine about my frigid stake-out.
She worked in the college library. "Hi, Christine," I said, approaching the checkout desk. She was alone.
"Hi."
"I have something funny to tell you," and I self-mockingly admitted all. We both laughed. Christine told me the guy's name and a little bit about him. Surprisingly, I no longer felt any jealousy. Maybe my jealousy hormones got frostbite.
The next weekend, Student Senate sponsored a movie in the union building. When I got upstairs, I saw Christine and him sitting together again. An ornery idea struck.
I went downstairs to the coatrack and found Christine's coat. Then I wrote a little note and stuck it in a glove. The note said, "Big Brother will NOT be watching tonight. Have a great time." Mission accomplished, I went up and enjoyed the movie.
Afterwards, I positioned myself across the building from the coatrack. I watched Christine and her date come downstairs and don their coats. Christine put on a glove. Then, looking puzzled, she withdrew her hand...along with the note.
Christine read the note, grinned, and quickly stuck it in her pocket. Then she looked up and casually scanned the room. Our eyes met, and she smiled broadly with mischievous delight. I smiled back and gave a short good-bye wave.
Suppressing her smile, Christine turned to her date. Ready? Then they left.
I have no idea where they went.
Copyright 2005 Steve Dennie |
