Time Means Nothing

But if we have to go now,
I guess there's always hope that,
Some place will be serving after hours.


This night is winding down but
Time means nothing,
As always at this hour
Time means nothing.
One final final round 'cause
Time means nothing.


Say that you'll stay.

I wasn't a girl who dated much in high school. And when I say I didn't date much, what I really mean is that I had about 3 dates total.

It wasn't that I didn't like boys. And I don't think that it means that they didn't like me. But when it came to that stuff, I was really unconfident. I was different. I wasn't a tanned, blonde cheerleader. I didn't drive a convertible. Encouraged by a mom who believed in natural beauty, I didn't wear lots of makeup and my hair wasn't frosted. I loved music and reading and writing and French. I swayed to the Cure and Depeche Mode and REM while my peers danced to MC Hammer, Guns N Roses, and Color Me Badd.  I shied away from sports and feigned disinterest because of my clumsiness. And with my tongue tied in knots, I couldn't come up with quick, flirty nothings to say to the football and hockey players until after the moment had passed.

Mostly content with crushing on guys in secret, going to church dances with my girlfriends, and hanging out with a mix of good friends at the lake and the park and the Blue Mountain Coffee House, I passed up a few chances (only a few, mind you) to date a few pretty cool guys. A few times I just wasn't interested enough. And a few times I was too scared. I was more comfortable laughing and listening to records and doing silly things with friends than taking the risk of ever pursuing the guys I so desperately liked in secret.

In the fall of 1992,  I moved away from the comfortable shores of Lake Minnetonka to attend a big university in Utah. It was 1300 miles away from home and different from anything I had ever experienced. To my delight, suddenly I wasn't the only one who had ever heard Swan Swan H or knew all the lyrics to Pictures of You. There were so many kids from different states and different countries, all with different types of families and friends and experiences. It was like being set free! I made friends with cool guys in my French class. I struck up conversations with new people on my way past the Bell Tower walking back to my dorm room. I made friends in line to attend foreign films at the International Cinema Club. I went dancing with my new friends... dances that had different rooms for different types of music, like the mod room, and the hip hop room, and the country room. I met slews of people who loved the songs as I did! And they didn't expect me to know the words to stupid Can't Touch This or know that ridiculous Electric Slide dance.

I got over my fear of talking to boys. I learned to flirt. I got asked on dates. I marveled at the pure and simple joy of my new life. Best of all, in the last few weeks of my freshman year, a guy I had a huge crush on suddenly had a crush on me. Finally it was a crush worth risking.

We ate together in the Morris Center, my crush and I. We studied with friends and flirted on the 4th floor of the library. We watched movies in the WILK. We gazed at the stars and declared a planet (Venus?) "my star." We walked in the rain up 9th East. We talked and talked. As the hours passed, building after building closed, shutting us out from the library, the dorm lobbies, the student center, and the cafeteria. We wandered the ghostly campus and the streets surrounding BYU, talking and laughing and holding hands, until the wee hours of the morning. We sought shelter from the chilly April nights as our discussions carried on through the night. I'd make it back to my dorm room around 3 or 4 am each night and lie in bed, smiling, thinking of how fun it was. And one night, in Kiwanis Park, as we faced each other sitting cross-legged in the grass, he leaned forward and gave me a short, sweet kiss.

There were more kisses to follow, and more walks and talks during those few short weeks. But it's that first kiss that has stayed with me. And really, wasn't just the kiss or just the guy. It was the whole, new, sweet set of experiences. That search for for shelter late at night... the cool night air... the stars... sharing my star with him... the frost on the grass... my cold hands being warmed in his... the talks... the realization that not only did I like him, but he liked me... and the feeling of actually wanting it to happen. This friendship. This crush. These feelings.

It lasted only a few weeks... a few glorious weeks that sparkle in my memory as my favorite part of college.

So where is he now? I really have no idea, and I actually haven't thought of him or that experience in quite a while. We lost touch after I got married and the memories were tucked away because really, it wasn't about him. It was about the moment.

Thanks, cjane, for inspiring me to write this. And thanks, We Are Scientists, for writing a song that speaks to my experience.