My name’s Tom Foster and I’m a thirty-two year old Physics Professor.
I’m not particularly successful or very good at sports and don’t have George Clooney’s looks or Hugh Jackman’s charm. As a matter of fact, when you come right down to it, I’m kind of nondescript.
But I do like women—a lot. Yeah, my bad.
Just yesterday after work, a bunch of us went to Sweetwater’s for drinks. Nadia, the Psych Prof, comes up with this bright idea.
“I read a novel where four couples are stranded at a ski lodge. They’re bored and play a game. They write down the name of the others in the cabin they’d like to be stranded with on a desert island.”
Justin, who’s gay, is delighted. “You never know what evil desires lurk in the hearts of men.”
Katie Brown smiles mischievously, "I'll second that emotion."
“But aren’t you tired of striking out, Justin?” Katie teases.
She's a Professor of Comparative Literature and specializes in Romance.
Justin rolls his eyes. “Well, hope springs eternal in the human breast, Dearie—Not referring to your ample assets, mind you—just saying.”
Nadia strong-arms us all into writing down a name—I write down Justin’s for a joke—then she tallies the votes.
Katie, of course, garners the most for the women, Justin gets two—so maybe hope does spring eternal—and I get all the rest.
It's embarrassing.
I try to avoid being a serial Lothario, but maybe that's my fate. I tried settling down, but it never seemed to work out for me.
I dated Cathy, the Dean’s secretary for several weeks and really made an effort to make a go of it. It didn’t work out. I just didn’t like her.
One thing she said stuck in my head, though—she said, guys probably hung out with me so they could meet girls, figuring I was a chick magnet.
That remark bugged me. It's why I have no close male friends—after they meet a girl they get as far away from me as they can.
But I'm not like that.
I’d never steal another guy’s girl. In fact, I’ve never met a girl I’d like to steal at all—until Charlotte.
Charlotte works in the bank and I kept on running into her by accident. Finally one day she asks, “Are you stalking me, Tom?”
Well, that did it. No girl has ever suspected me of chasing her. I asked her out and we’ve been going together ever since.
Last week I asked her to marry me.
Now here’s my problem...
I told you I like women. I really do.
I enjoy their company and actually care about what they have to say.
Okay, I’m just like most guys and don’t care about fashion and make-up and that sort of thing—but, I do find women fascinating and love to see things through their point of view.
Face it—guys are sometimes pretty superficial and will never talk about their feelings. Women will every time.
But now that I’ve asked Charlotte to marry me, I’m having second thoughts.
Life with Charlotte is kind of predictable. We go out on a date, to a film or restaurant, or sit around the house and watch TV. It’s not exactly blazing passion—more like a calm, steady fire.
I’m used to juggling two dates a night and like the challenge of fitting them both in.
Hell, I was even blackmailed by Kelly, one of my teaching assistants with whom I got a little too involved.
I wanted to break it off, but she made me stick it out for the whole semester or threatened to go to the dean.
She really liked me and felt breaking up with me would upset her too much and she’d flunk out of her program.
When she graduated and got on the bus for home, I breathed a huge sigh of relief.
So right now I’m like Julius Caesar at the Rubicon, debating about crossing the river and invading Rome.
The river in this case is Charlotte and invading Rome is getting married and living the rest of my life with her.
There are pro’s and con’s on both sides and despite the fact we’re engaged, I’m debating whether or not to go on.
I told you I was a Physics Professor. My situation could be described as a defining moment.
Forces have acted upon me to turn me toward marriage. I’m like a door on a hinge. The turning effect of the force is called a moment.
Just because I’ve turned away from my past life toward Charlotte, doesn’t mean I can’t turn again and revert to my old ways.
I sit in my office with a sheet of loose-leaf paper before me and draw a line down the middle.
Charlotte’s on one side and my old life on the other. It’s a simple matter of adding up points.
The first time I do the exercise, my old life wins.
I study the results and decide it’s not the number of points that matter, but I should add a value to each and give each a weight.
After two hours and crumpled paper balls in the wastebasket, I’m at a standstill. I can’t decide.
At this point, the phone rings and I pick up.
“Hey Casanova—How’s life in the Big Smoke?”
I recognize Kelly’s voice, my former teaching assistant. My heart leaps. I try to dampen my enthusiasm.
“Hey Small Town Girl. What’s up?”
“In this burg, not much I can tell you. I’m coming into town for a friend’s wedding and wondered if we could meet for a drink?”
The Rubicon stretches out before me.
I imagine Kelly with her Baywatch figure and long blonde hair frolicking in the water and then I see Charlotte, dark and quiet like an island in the stream.
For one moment, there is no one else in the world…only the wide river and a current inside me that’s equally strong. If I don’t fight it and go with the flow, it’ll be so easy. No one will know.
“Tom, are you there?”
Oh yeah, I’m on the diving board and rocking.
I close my eyes and squeeze them tight, till all I can see is Charlotte.
I hang up the phone.
The moment ends...
I made it.
