Part 4: Everyone but Me

I met Noah at freshman orientation in college. The college we attended is located on the coast of California, and inevitably, the town was filled with surfers and wanna-bes; tall, blonde, and tan. I, being Chinese, am on the shorter side, brunette, and porcelain white. In order to welcome us, the college held an ice-cream social in the upstairs auditorium, as an opportunity to mingle with the other new students.

In case I forgot to mention, during my last few years of high school, I was in a "punk" stage that I hadn't yet grown out of, and wore nothing but cut-off Dickies, band t-shirts, and black Doc Marten 10-eyed boots. I carried with me a black messenger bag covered in patches of my favorite bands at all times. I'm not sure if it was the safety-pin adorned attire or the bright red-ish pink hair that fended people off, but the ice-cream social was anything but social for me. So, I stood near the back, alone, eating my free Neapolitan with sprinkles.

From behind, I heard a voice say, "I've never met anyone who has actually heard of that band before." I turned around, and there he was. The biggest dork I had ever seen in my life. And he was pointing at a patch pinned to my bag. He was wearing khaki cargo shorts, a ringer tee, black faded Converse low-tops (with tube socks!) and black-rimmed glasses a la Buddy Holly. His dark curly hair was short and lacked any sort of style. He stuck out his hand and introduced himself, "Hi, I'm Noah. What dorm are you in?"

I remember thinking, "Dear Lord, why do You always send me the dorky ones?" But I accepted his hand and replied, "Yosemite, Tower 1. I'm Jehoadan."

We chatted for quite a while, and I discovered that we liked all the same bands, were from the same area in northern California, and had actually gone to a few of the same concerts. We ended up exchanging phone numbers that night and began meeting for lunch in the cafeteria every Thursday at 1:00.

By Thanksgiving of that year, he had already won my heart.