It was January of last year.
I was sitting on campus in the undergraduate math lounge (back when it was in Cushwa Hall) since I was going to tutor after student teaching. My Mom was still a student in the nursing program at YSU, as well, and was studying in the atrium of Cushwa. There was a bunch of people in the math lounge that must have been waiting for a 5:10pm class. I sat down at the computer to work on lesson plans.
So, this random never-seen-this-guy before middle-aged African man pops into the math lounge and asks where he could find one of the African grad students. I didn’t recognize the name, so I sent him down to the grad office. Ok, no sweat off my back. So everybody leaves the lounge for class and it’s now 5:15pm on a Wednesday evening. It’s nice and quiet.
Suddenly, that guy is back.
Ok, only slightly weirded out. He has an African accent and speaks ever so softly – but incessantly. He told me that he was so thankful for my directions and needed to tell me that … but that he was also lonely and didn’t have any friends (throwing in a few Christian jargon terms along the way). Bottom line? He wondered if he could be my friend.
Hmm, weird, but I’m like “Uh, I guess. I’m Moriah.”
He then proceeded to pull stuff out of his briefcase and tell me his life story of escaping from the Congo when war broke out, how he is an engineer and makes $100K a year (but is going back to school in order to get a promotion to earn $150K-200K a year), shows me his resume and cover letter … then pulled out his transcript request receipts and handed me a business card.
By this time, I’m very confused.
Then. Then he asks me if I’m married (ah! wished I was at that point) but I said “Umm, not yet.” I didn’t realize that when he asked if we could “be friends”, that meant “can we be boyfriend and girlfriend?”
He goes on to tell me that when he saw me his heart “just lept” and he knows that “his blood and my blood will mix positively” and there’s just “so much there”. Whaaaa?
So, I text my Mom, “I need you to come to the lounge.”
No reply.
In desperation, I finally get a word in edgewise, “Woah Nellie, I don’t understand what you’re getting at – I’m not available!” (Which, at the time, was true.) He then proceeds to tell me that he understands that but that we can work through all of this as we “progress deeper into our relationship”. Oiy. Talk about not taking a hint.
Let’s try a more direct approach. “You don’t understand, I am in a relationship and am not available!” I tell him. He still insists that it’s ok but that I should not close the door on him and must always think positively. He assured me that he understands that it would take time to break up with the other guy.
Ok, he gets ‘persistence points’ and scores double in the ‘creepy points’ category.
Meanwhile, I text Mom again. It needs to be more pointed. “Mom. A guy is proposing to me.” This guy is between me and the door, I can’t just walk out.
He still doesn’t take the blatant hint and proceeds to give me his personal phone number and email address … and then asks for mine. I emphatically reply that I don’t give that out to *strangers*. He assures me that he knows that he and I are meant to be together because his knees got weak and pained when he left to find his friend (great, glad to know that I can cause arthritis). He had to come back and take a chance to express his feelings.
By this time, I’m in major African dude freak out. Oh, I manage to gather (from his resume) that he was born in 1961. He is almost as old as my Dad.
Enter Mom, stage left! Honestly – who has their Mom in their hip pocket on a secular college campus that they can pull out whenever they need her? I do.
“Leonard, I would like you to meet … my Mom.”
His face emanates a stunned look as he frantically starts packing up his portfolio of credentials. Mom is very polite but looks at me and asks, “Do you know Leonard?”
“No!”
“Ok, well, Leonard, you have to go now. Bye.”
Exit Leonard, stage right.
In all honesty, I think someone was in desperate need of a green card. The moral of the story? Guys, you seriously need to start all relationships with transcript request receipts. There is nothing more sincere, romantic, and sends a solid message about one’s character as transcript request receipts (“Well, I’ve finished my one degree and am looking to the future! Here’s a signed testament to that on the pink copy of the 3-ply carbon set”).
Words to live by. Or laugh by!
