I don’t know why some people get together; it might be cosmic coincidence. I was walking through the Bellevue College bookstore when I saw the kid I chased around church when I was younger. I locked him in the bathroom until he cried.
“Clayton, what are you up to?”
“Mathematics. What’s your major?”
“Psychology. I’m just fascinated by crazy people.”
Clayton grinned. Then I started talking to him about serial killers. He couldn’t get enough. “Ted Bundy gave advice to Quantico Virginia so Sheriff Rickert could paint a psychological portrait of the Green River Killer,” I said.
“How do you know that? You sound just like a textbook.”
“Deviance interests me.”
“If I was a girl right now; I would be scared out of my mind,” Clayton said.
“Maybe that’s why I haven’t been able to get dates lately. Oh, look at the time. I have to go take a final.”
“Good luck,” Clayton said.
Years passed. I finished undergrad and grad school. I became a psychologist. Then my parents went to a 50th wedding anniversary. Clayton was there.
“How’s Andy doing? Clayton asked. “Is he still interested in serial killers?”
“Yes; it’s been over a decade; he knows every serial murder that’s happened in the last hundred years,” my mom said.
“Wow, I knew he was interested, but I didn’t know his obsession went that far.”
“What are you up to? My mom asked.
“I’m getting a PhD. in Mathematics,” Clayton said. “I’m dating a lot, but I don’t want to give a woman half my stuff.”
My mom shook her head while she told me the conversation.
I decided to friend request him on Facebook. Soon we were climbing up a mountain together with his friend Jeff. Jeff was a data analyst, overweight, and a liberal.
“Trump will win,” I said. “He’s a narcissist and inarticulate, but the crowds love him. What an interesting, charismatic man.”
“God,” Jeff said.
Clayton laughed. “Andy likes people who are interesting. It doesn’t matter what they do; they could be serial killers and he would love them.”
“Clayton, you already know me,” I said.
And we are still best friends to this day.