CHANGE

I went to the Naval Academy years and years ago. I don’t think that’ll give my anonymity away. There are lots of us out here. Anyway, for women (no matter what some women might say), the game’s a little different there. If you’re pretty, you can’t possibly be respected enough to command authority. If you’re ugly, you’re gay by default, or too ugly to have made it anywhere else.

I was in a very bizarre, fraternizing relationship with an upperclassmen (he was a senior, I was a sophomore) in my company (the Academy is broken up into 36 companies- or basic chains of command). I guess my self-esteem was low enough that I didn’t mind that he never took me out- that our relationship was confined to the insides of the dormitory. At the Academy, men get crap for dating female mids (midshipmen- the term referring to all students at the Academy). It suggests that they aren’t good enough to get “real” women. And only the most secure of men can handle the poking and prodding.

He was typical of the guys I had dated in my small, midwestern hometown. Varsity athlete. Good-looking. The one exception was that he was ostensibly intelligent, and I allowed him to take advantage of my insecurities and immaturity. In retrospect, I can see that he was probably more insecure than I was, for having hidden our relationship. Nevertheless, we were both sickly compliant of the terms of the relationship.

As things went on, I realized that things were amiss. I went to a party off campus and saw a female classmate of mine, who was also dating a varsity athlete mid, who was, incidentally, sharing a house off campus with my “boyfriend.” These houses are against the rules at the Academy, but they were a much-needed necessity for juniors and seniors who had more privileges off campus (I had one when I was a senior- we got caught. That’s a great story that I’ll tell later!).

We spoke for a little while, and then she got the strangest look on her face. I thought it was the alcohol, but it was the light of realization. She said, “Oh my God! It’s you. You’re the ________ that B______ keeps referring to at the house. He kept talking about his girl _______, but we never saw her.” I was mortified for having been relegated to invisibility, but sickly delighted that he even referred to me as “his girl.”

I stormed back to the dorm in my civilian clothes (if I had been caught I would have been in some bit of trouble!), inebriated and furious. I stormed into his room (he was on duty that weekend), broke down in tears, and demanded to be taken on a date. He complied.

That date was degrading and miserable. It felt like a scheduled “escort” appointment. Dinner and a hotel. In places far away from the Academy, away from prying or familiar eyes.

When we drove back I had to be in uniform. I pretended that he was just giving me a ride to the dorm. Well, that’s what he was really doing. Dropping some female mid off at the dorm with sterile conversation along the way.

Over those months (8 of them) I became friends with his roommate. He was brilliant. He was not a varsity athlete. He was lanky and freckled. But he was principled, introspective, and confident. When I was in my first year, I asked an upperclassmen (who regrettably died in a freak drowning accident some years ago) who his classmates most respected (in a tete-a-tete that rarely happens among plebes and seniors ). He said M____-my boy toy’s roommate.

The more time I spent with M, the more I realized that I had chosen the wrong guy. In fact, one night M said, “What are you doing? It’s not right what you’re doing.” He wasn’t hitting on me. Really, he wasn’t. He had too much integrity to do that. But he could see that I was being foolishly taken advantage of, and I believe that he felt it was morally reprehensible.

When boy toy saw that M and I were spending a lot of time together, he got peculiarly chatty about the type of women M preferred. He said that M never dated anyone b/c no one was good enough, smart enough, pretty enough for him. So I ruled myself out.

I tagged along with some female senior friends of mine to M and B’s graduation party. M saw that I had seen B with a leggy blonde (he ended up marrying her). He whisked me away to a bottle of rum. He said, “How ’bout a shot?” Without answering I gulped it down. He laughed and said, “What the hell are you doin’? That was supposed to be for both of us!” I don’t remember much about that night. I know that I made very inappropriate advances on M. I know that he thought I was doing it in retaliation against B. I know that he never knew how genuinely crushed I was that I had wasted so much time on the wrong person. I know that he could have, but did not acquiesce to my coquetry. I know that he hugged me, kissed me on the forehead (the only other man who has ever done that is my husband), and gently placed me in a car heading back to the dorm.

I called him the next morning. He was headed for submarine school either that day or the next. He was still drunk when I called. I apologized for the previous night. But what I really wanted to say was, “Beyond all the drunken debauchery of last night, it should have been you. I’ve never met anyone like you. All this time, it should have been you.”