The Center of Attention

“I don’t care if you hang out with him, but I won’t be around if you do.”

The only thing that matched the heat of my anger was the depth of my confusion. Ruthie had been there. I couldn’t fathom why she wanted to hang out with Blake, who was the single most obnoxious man to ever disgrace the halls of our school.

Let me set the scene. It was the fall semester, and my best (and only) friend and I were sitting in the student center, studying.

Enter man: he’s five-foot-ten, dirty blonde hair, and a smirk that says he’s looking forward to the fight he’s about to start. This complete stranger saunters up to us, stands on the opposite side of me (putting myself between him and my friend), and begins talking about the one topic guaranteed to get a reaction in an election year: politics. The following argument was loud, frustrating, and drew the attention of everyone in the room. It was in that moment I knew—Blake was obnoxious, rude, and worst of all, he had made me the center of attention. I had just met my mortal enemy.

“Okay, so maybe beyond being the most obnoxious man alive, he has a sense of humor.”

The second-floor study room of the library fell silent as the drawing of Taylor Swift as a manatee and the flowchart assessing her status as to whether or not she had the imago dei were forgotten. I had just committed the nearly unpardonable sin: I had suggested my mortal enemy might be funny. Not only that, but I had suggested that roasting my friend was acceptable if it was funny enough.

Allow me to explain: Faith was in a systematic theology class that semester, and she was unfortunate enough to have Blake in it with her. What this meant was that I was given ample opportunity to mock the man I had met only four months earlier. My friends were, admittedly, less than thrilled about my observation that the local hillbilly might actually be a comedic genius. Before they could comment, though, I did the one thing I knew could get Faith to forget what I had said: I continued the argument on whether or not T-Swift was secretly a manatee.

“I guess no one deserves to be annoying and alone.”

The crosswalk was not amused by my confession, but Faith and Ruthie seemed to accept it. We were on our way to a late Galentine’s Day party when we ran into a very sad-looking Blake. He had been at a NASCAR race over the weekend, and his girlfriend had broken up with him over the phone. Faith and Ruthie told me, “He’s sad, we’re going to be his friends.” Sad and lonely were staple characteristics of the crowd we typically drew in. The three of us had a gift for finding people who felt alone and helping them find a place to belong. Yet somehow, in all our time finding belonging for others, I still held a grudge against the unfortunately funny man who had once made everyone look my direction.

“Sorry, I can’t make it; a kid stole my keys.”

Half a semester and most of a summer had passed, and Blake had been hanging out with our little group more and more frequently. I still felt awkward, though. Every time he was with us, I could feel the attention of everyone around us shifting toward the blonde popular guy surrounded by the three girls who had more or less adopted him. No matter how much everyone looked, though, I did my best to ignore it. After all, he was their friend, and I didn’t really matter to him. I really believed that until he invited me to his birthday party.

My first thought was, “What grown man has a birthday party?” My second was to be honored that I was invited. My third was the ever-growing horror that a kid at work had stolen my keys, and somehow not showing up to Blake's birthday party would end our friendship before I realized it had even begun. I got my keys back quickly enough to show up late, but I didn’t go. The only thing worse than not showing up at all would be showing up late enough to make a scene. Besides, it’s not like he would even notice I wasn’t there.

“They’re busy.”

Heavens above, why did I say that??? The four of us had been going to Sheetz for late-night snack runs for months now. It was our thing. Me, Faith, and Ruthie would get tired of studying, call Blake, and go get snacks. Why did I say they were busy? They weren’t busy! It was going to be just me and Blake ALONE for at least an hour, and what were we even supposed to talk about? Politics? No. NASCAR? I’d rather die. Theology? How was that the safest option? My concerns meant nothing; he said he still wanted to go. I had made my bed, and I had to lie in it.

“Would he still be my Blake if I wasn’t his Hope?”

Holy crap, that sounded like I’m in love with him. It really isn’t that deep. I mean, people had been making a lot of jokes about us being together. It’s really not a big deal that I asked Faith if she thought Blake and I would be good together. I’m awkward. There’s no way she interpreted that to mean I like like him… right? Besides, she was probably right. Sheetz was fun, but it’s not like it was real. If he and I dated, it would be horrible. We wouldn’t be friends anymore. He was not my Blake; he was just Blake. He was just a guy I hung out with… and missed when he was gone… and thought about all the time… no. NO. He was BLAKE. Not my Blake. Just Blake. He didn’t feel any kind of way about me. He didn’t feel any kind of way about me. He didn’t feel… any kind of way...

But what if I wished he did?

“I like you. Do you want to get coffee sometime? Like as a date?”

He smiled. Oh my gosh, he smiled. He said yes. Holy crap, he said he’d love to go on a date with me. Earlier that day, I’d been at work talking to a friend. I had told her how much I’d missed Blake while he’d been gone for the weekend. I told her that I’d ask him out if he agreed to go to Sheetz. He’d said yes. And then, on the drive home, he said yes again. He told me it was me. I was the only person he was talking to. Even the idea of anyone else had left his mind. It was me and him. Holy crap, it was me and him.

“AHHHHH! I’m trying to say that I kind of sort of love you… I guess… and um… that’s the tea?”

God above, why was I the most awkward person who has ever lived? Did I REALLY tell a man I love him “a little?” “I GUESS???” Maybe he didn’t hear me? Maybe all he heard was, “Hey babe, we’ve been together a while now, I love you.” Probably not. This was too soon. Oh, I’ve completely blown it. I really said, “That’s the tea.” It really took me twenty minutes of stumbling over my words, restarting over and over again. Awkward pauses, starting with “I’ve been thinking about us,” and only to say I “kind of sort of” love him? It might be better if I scared him off with this because there’s no way this man really tries to build a future with a woman who can’t even commit to saying she loves him.

Wait. Wait, he said he kind of sort of loves me too.

Hold on a second.

He loves me.

He… he loves me.

“He’s everything I didn’t know I was looking for.”

I looked at the ring on my finger. It was shiny. Like, really shiny. I’d never liked shiny things before. We’d been talking about ring pops for months now. I mean, I’d fake proposed to him with one on a few occasions. But this, this was real. He wanted to marry me. He said he couldn’t wait for forever with me. For every birthday, every Christmas, every New Year. He wanted me to be there for all of them. Every moment for the rest of our lives. I had always said I was happy on my own, that I was better off that way. Yet somehow, the kindest, funniest, most caring person on the planet wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. He had asked me to marry him, and I had said yes.

“To be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse…”

I’ve never believed in soulmates, in love at first sight, or that two people are meant to be. I’ve always thought it was dumb. People can live their whole lives single—where’s their soulmate? Sometimes people aren’t as perfect for each other as they thought they were. People break up, and they hurt each other. The idea that somewhere out there, someone exists who is so perfectly suited for you that your life is never quite complete until you meet them is absurd. It’s insanity. It’s impossible. And yet, Blake made me believe in the impossible. How, you ask? Because in a room of three hundred people, in a room where I was the center of attention, the only person I saw was him.