Yah, that’s him, at the end of the ladder, working on a warehouse fire.
I think I’ve gained a little insight into this man as of late: he thinks he’s Lee Majors.
Do y’all remember “The Fall Guy?” The unknown stuntman? If you need your memory jogged, just click here.
This would explain his need to climb to the top of everything, crawl onto untrained things, hunt without weapons, and generally just try whatever might present itself. I read an article once about boys/men thinking it was an actual possibility to grow up to be a superhero, but I don’t buy that my husband actually suffers from this thought process at all.
That’s because he’s too busy becoming Lee Majors from “The Fall Guy,” including fixing up an old truck to drive around. Not only does Mr. Harvey Lee Yeary’s character fulfill the need for adventure and near death experiences, but he was also the epitome of cowboy rough on “The Big Valley” back in the 60’s. If that doesn’t wrap my husband up in a cayenne tortilla, I don’t know what does.
And before I get lost down the rabbit hole of pictures I’m finding of Lee Majors on Google Images and wondering whether or not he’s had plastic surgery (pity), I wanted to add a little installment to The Love Story.
Say that in an exaggerated swoony voice, please.
So, after acquainting ourselves in the Transfer Admissions & Records Office in Heaton Hall, a friendship fell into place quite naturally. The whole group of us that found ourselves stuffed into the shoebox of a file room every day quickly became going out buddies, confidantes, and companions in college misery/euphoria – because it goes hand-in-hand.
My roommates and I settled into our groove back at the apartment, too. We decorated a little, we took funny pictures of each other, we went out, we ate, and then we sat around like zombies wondering what we’d gotten ourselves into with all this homework and studying and we’renotatBrenhamHighSchoolorBlinnCollegeanymore, Toto.
And every time the Heaton Hall friends had plans to go out, I’m sure my roommates wanted to gouge their eyes out with paperclips. My excitement level and readiness were downright annoying. Why was that? I acted like it was just because it was so much fun – which let me assure you, it was – but it was also a whole lot of IS HE GONNA BE THERE, TOO?
Our first night out, sitting in another friend’s apartment, I was having a nice time. Normal. Usual. And then. And then…I saw him and some of his buddies walk in the front door, and he was wearing that cowboy hat. And it was crooked.
And it’s like the whole room filled up with grins and cowboy blue jeans and bright lights. I’m sure I looked like an idiotic fool, sitting on that couch, smiling like I’d just found out that chocolate covered marshmallow eggs at Easter time weren’t fattening.
Then, the friend he rode with asked if I wanted to ride with the two of them – in a single-cab truck – to wherever we were going next. Who can even remember? Who even cares? It could have been the dark side of the landfill, for all I cared.
Obviously, it didn’t turn out to be any place fit for CSI or Criminal Minds, but riding in the middle of that truck seat with him on one side was definitely one of the first highlights of our relationship – that we weren’t even in yet. Think first crush jitters and cute boy mall sightings and “oh my word we’re about to talk on the phone for the first time” anticipation.
And then a couple of days later, at work, they put us in teams to handle the landslide of applications coming in every day. Who did they pair me with? Him.
At first, I was excited. Extra time and talking with him could be nothing but good. I soon realized, however, that what this meant was that I would be doing all the work, while he sat there and entertained us. I didn’t even realize it was happening in the beginning. It slowly started to dawn on me that only one of us was actually taking paper OUT of the inbox and processing it. The other one of us was just sitting near the box and lookin’ good.
And I’m still the one doing all the paperwork, all these years later, while he moves around lookin’ good.
If I had a nickel for every time I told that little joke, I’d be able to hire someone to do our paperwork for us.
Shortly after this division of duties, TAMU moved our office off-campus, to the Metro Center. Which, side note, was so weird. We all spent several weeks packing and moving and getting settled in to our new digs, which were big and spread out. It was roomier, sure, but I kind of missed us all being crammed and forced together.
It was around this time that B quit his job as a student worker. This should have come as no surprise to anyone. Brady Becker working in an office with paper is like…well, like Lee Majors taking up knitting and living with his grandma. It just ain’t natural.
One day during the summer, as I was being a star employee, I heard a lot of commotion out in the hallway. Who do you think it was? Him. Come for a visit. He stopped and talked with every person, every desk, and every student worker between the front door and where I stood trying not to pit.
He finally ended up standing next to me and asked if I wanted to go get lunch for everybody with him.
Um, do paper cuts burn?
Yes I wanna go.
And so I said, “Sure.” As if I was the boss. As if he was the boss. As if I could do whatever I wanted. I barely had the forethought to stop by my supervisor’s office – who just happened to be my daddy’s first cousin (PERKS!) – to ask if it was okay. Hallelujah to her for saying yes, because if she’d have said no, I probably wouldn’t have heard her anyway.
I thought I was being all normal and just Helpy Helperton with the lunch order, but looking back, every female in that hallway must have thought to herself: “Look at her. Gone. Bless her heart.”
So off we went in his old blue truck to Sonic.
And this is about where things started to turn a little less friend and a little more “Lawsy, pass the smelling salts….”