Sydney Life

Ghassan emerges from a date with himself to reflect on times when a shabby, little teddy bear said it all...

The third installment in my series on campus romance is dedicated to… romance! That’s right, we’ve covered places to find someone, crushes and now we’re up to the next step: actually falling madly, head-over-heels, hit-it-the-head-with-a-giant-plastic-carnival-toy in L.O.V.E.

It’s funny that I decided to write on this topic tonight. I took myself out on a date last Saturday night to see a musical in the ‘burbs. (Note to self: dating oneself is a sure fire way to avoid awkward conversations.)

I even met someone at the musical who was also on a date with herself and we had cheesecake in the interval together. Ah, the randomness of being single…

Hmmm, ok, back to where I was… oh, yes… LOVE.

I fell in love for the first time on campus! There I was: a bright-eyed, first year student. There he was: tall, dark, handsome and mysterious. My own Mr Darcy! We all like what is bad for us. (Case in point: chocolate.)

So how can you pick if someone is in love on campus? Well there are a few telltale signs:
(a) They tend to stride around the main quad whistling,
(b) They tend to sit in cafes sipping lattes and writing poetry,
(c) They tend to suddenly become overjoyed with stupid little things like raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens… or autumn leaves, the beauty of fog or fathers playing with their children.
(e) They suddenly think they are great photographers, bellydancers, film critics and bloggers,
(f) They also tend to trundle about Sydney streets looking slightly dazed and adorned with cheesy smiles.

Well I don’t know about you, but at least that’s what I did when I fell in love for the first time!

My first love was an interesting character. I still remember the day when he let down his “too cool for school” attitude and surprised me with a little teddy bear after class. We named the bear Alfred and he’s still sitting up on my bookshelf (the bear that is, not the boy; the boy disappeared long ago.) (Note to self: teddy bears make better boyfriends.)

Yes, that was a magical time… which lasted for about 3 and half weeks. Ah, the joy of first year romance. (Note to cynics: it’s quality not quantity that matters!)

Now as a fourth-year student whose “been through all that”, I like to think of myself as a more seasoned lover. Conversation and brains are good. Purely dashing looks or boyish charm is not enough. Creative talent or humour is a bonus. Sappiness is a complete turn off. A driver’s license is a surprising necessity (and “L’s” don’t count). Drug use is not cool or even moderately funny. Non-smoking is preferred. An interest in the arts earns brownie points. Must not read the Daily Telegraph except for sociological purposes. Voting One Nation, the Shooter’s Party or Christian Democrats in the last election is a complete disqualification. Not remembering who you voted for in the last election is forgivable, as long as you know who you’re going to vote for in the next election and know which year the next election will be held. (In other words: you have to do better than a teddy bear to win me over these days.)

But, do I regret for a minute that ill-fated 3.5 week relationship which ended in a year’s worth of "getting-over-him" cleansing rituals? Not. One. Bit.

And here’s a confession. After Saturday’s date with myself, I came home and hopped into bed, as the moonlight poured in through my bedroom window. And there on my bookshelf was that shabby bear looking down at me with fake, beady eyes. Then it came back. That cheesy first-year smile, and I was again reminded of the wonderful memories that filled the time between my first-year lectures and tutes…

See, there’s still a first-year campus romantic buried deep inside me!

Above: Alfred the bear. I like to think it takes more than a teddy bear to please me these days.