After meeting up with a friend from college tonight, I have college people on my mind. This friend mentioned, “I think you just knew more people than I did,” (I might have edited that for improved grammar, but I really don’t remember.) an idea that seems almost crazy, seeing as how he spent the full time on campus, but I only spent about half of my shortened college career on campus. And I was placed in the introvert section of my freshman dorm… I think I was the only one who knew everyone in my hall that year.
One person in particular has come to mind as I mingle in this thought of meeting so many people: my reasonable crush. Certainly, I had more than one little crush in college, but there was one who didn’t seem to have anything like a big red flag, when it came to the idea of practicality of the crush. It wasn’t like I ever intended to do anything about the crush, but he was the only one who might actually have agreed to go on a date with me, had I somehow found myself asking him.
I don’t recall the absolute first time we met, but the first time we really had a one-on-one was at a regular college party. I had gone over with some girls from my hall – we’d all ridden in one girl’s car together. No one expected me to stay long at the party, but I usually went to the party for a little bit, chatted, danced, hung out, went home, and then went back to the party to pick up the girls whenever they were finished for the night. On this particular night, nothing was different. I was alcohol-free and dancing near a corner, I believe (more out of avoiding having alcohol spilled on me and drunk guys trying to rub up on me, than out of an attempt to isolate myself). And, somehow, I found myself talking with this guy.
He was cute in his drunken efforts to flirt and be sweet, though the fact that the efforts were drunken gave him no real chance of anything other than talking a bit with me. Afterward, at least one of the girls commented on how he wouldn’t leave me alone at the party, we talked for so long. I enjoyed the attention, but the drunken lining was not to my taste, so I considered little on the matter. I was just talking to a guy half out of his wits, and he was nice. And that was it. I don’t remember when my crush began with him, if it was before or a while after this experience, but I never accept drunken thoughts as forms of true, desired communication, so his “interest” was easily disregarded. And a guy drinking at a college party usually wants sex, not a girlfriend and potential wife.
But, later on, after the crush was fully settled within me, I delighted in watching him swim fabulously on the swim team, one of the cool sports at our school where everyone seemed to be just really neat people of various backgrounds.
Anyway, by the time I was visiting one of my best friends, years later, in her last semester of college (I finished college early, remember.), my crush was in full swing. My friend informed me that my crush lived in the house just over from hers. I had already envied her living in that particular old-style house near campus, and I only envied it more at this piece of information.
‘He showed up at the back door, and asked for butter once.’ (Or was it that she asked him for butter, and he asked her for eggs once? I’ll have to ask her. She might still remember.)
We both knew I was filled with teenage girl crush envy at this. I could have possibly befriended him, if I had taken longer for college, and lived in my rightfully earned place at that awesome house. But I didn’t, and so it goes.
Anyway, he’s hopefully more gorgeous than ever, working a great job, and making great money that allows him to clad himself in stunning attire. I haven’t kept up, but he’s still gorgeous in my head, and I think I’m actually nervous to look him up and find out that his health and looks didn’t improve with age since college.