After Burger dropped me over Spring Break, I kept up my presence in the freshman year dating scene. I recently found a “crush list” from around that time that I contributed to along with two of my friends. It was buried in the back of my journal and I only recognized 3 of the 10 (!) names in my section. Who were these mysterious men that I held in such high regard? Were there really that many guys in my stats class that I fawned over? Did I get googly-eyed over ever young gentleman who tossed me a frisbee? My memory fails me on this front, but at least I can still remember the “important” ones (and how to use SPSS).
Anyway, in April of that year I was going on dates/making out with/eating lunch with 2 different guys, Mr. Serious and Frat Boy. As one might imply from these monikers, one of them was indeed very serious. He was a pre-med biology major with a penchant for staying in and cuddling. The other was in fact in a fraternity. Better yet, he was from Texas and had exciting stories about drinking in foreign countries. Being 18, I was charmed by both. But it was the end of the spring semester, and I was heading home for the summer to an existence of field parties and amusement parks. My heart wasn’t really in it, you know? I slept at Mr. Serious’s dorm (across campus and next to Burger’s dorm) on Fridays after riveting discussions on biology and a few makeout sessions. Then the next night, I’d be partying it up with Frat Boy (who I’m quite certain I never even kissed). It was a conflicted existence. My friends began to take sides. Some assured me that I was a much better match with Mr. Serious, while others wanted me to date Frat Boy (presumably so he could buy us booze). It seemed everyone had an opinion on the “issue” except me.
The situation finally came to a head in late April. Mr. Serious and I ate lunch in the all-you-can-eat dining hall and he told me in so many words that he wanted to “get serious” with me. I had to swallow my grilled cheese along with my shock and kindly explain “Well, I’m kind of dating someone else right now, too. And I’d like to keep seeing both of you.” I’ll let you all guess how well that was taken. We lost touch that summer and he ended up transferring to another college that was a better fit for him. As of writing this, I searched for him on facebook and found nothing. Then I googled him (in the name of blogging, of course). The only dirt I could find is that he is an Eagle Scout. How anticlimactic.
As for Frat Boy, he came over to my room to watch a movie and promptly hopped onto my bed with his shoes still on. Unfortunately for him, twin-sized beds and dirty shoes aren’t really good for putting the moves on a girl. I bid him farewell during finals week, and never saw him again. Last I heard, he dropped off, moved back to Texas then came back to college after I had left.
So there you have it, an end to the faceless masses of cute boys that composed my first year of university.
