Eternity said:
Many years ago, I knew a girl in university who was tall and very naturally blond and had lots of curves in all the right places and was quite extraverted and friendly with everyone, but could turn bitch on a dime and reject men left and right. Everybody loved her... you know the type. Classic English rose complete with the creamy-white skin that turned red to the touch.
There was this guy, short, plump, with a good sense of humor, very personable, who was her private orbiter. As in, he literally followed her around everywhere like a little doggie. It was practically unthinkable to see them separately, at any time. He probably held her purse for her.
Even back in the 90s, without all the language we have at our disposal now on friendzoning and beta and whatnot, my friends and I understood that the guy never had a shot with her. They even confirmed it explicitly, the pair of them. Any time anyone asked her if they were together, she'd say "We're just friends". Notably, if he was asked the same question, he'd respond in the same manner.
This charade continued throughout the 3-year period of our bachelor's degree, uninterrupted. It was quite extraordinary.
Six-and-a-half years after we all graduated, I was invited for a Christmas party to the London home of a mutual friend, an investment banker who'd made it big and had bought a seven-figure Georgian terraced house. The rest of us hadn't made it big, and he delighted in showing us around his new home.
At the event, I encountered the blonde again, for the first time since those student days... she greeted me effusively and threw her arms around me in a tight embrace. She'd accumulated a little extra curvature by now in some of the wrong places, rather quickly, I'm sorry to say: as Jonathan is told in
Serendipity, "Englishwomen don't age well".
As I struggled to free myself from her grasp, whom did I see standing right behind her but the little orbiter guy from the old days, who acknowledged me with a nod. With a gentle gesture, the blond brought him forward to join circle, then turned back to me.
"Now Marty, you remember my husband Richard, of course, don't you?" That's right! Married at last, he still followed her around like a puppy in the exact same manner. He'd prepared himself impeccably for the Provider role.
