Thanks For the Memories

A couple college friends recently re-discovered their old livejournals from high-school/college and shared a few select entries with me. One centered around my friend's first exposure to college as a freshmen and - hot damn! - all that guy-candy! It certainly brought my mind a-wandering back...

My high-school's graduating class consisted of about 57 students. Fairly small, but I've seen smaller (that's what she said! ha! I couldn't help myself...). Especially when compared to the student body I entered into (boy do I sound inapropriate today), of about 2,400 undergrads. Still, not huge (hehe!), but I sure felt like a small fishie in a big big...Great Lake.

In high school, I never went on any dates (I'll be honest with you guys, I think I actually had one the trail end of senior year), never was asked to dance at a school mixer, and wasn't exactly impressed by the males of the species in my vicinity anyway.

Upon entering college, it was just as Aladdin and Jasmine had always sang about! A whole new world! I mean, we're in college now, so all these guys must be really smart and good looking!

Well, they were generally more good looking, that's for sure, but the intelligence level wasn't exactly on par with what I'd expected.

I do, however, have very fond memories of my Social Movements class first semester Freshman year. I sat behind (as often as I could - damn you college for not having assigned seating!) this beautiful and very intelligent guy, Rion. Oh. Baby.

He wore those thin-like-their-vintage, oh-so-soft, muscle-hugging t-shirts that did just that - showed off his gloriously fit back in ways that would make angels sing Willa Ford's "I Wanna Be Bad." (or something sexier and badder, but, like, it's not even 10 am here, so let's stop demanding too much from Sarah, okay?)

I am amazed I passed that class. All too often I would stare at the back of this bea-ooootiful young buck and drift off into a reverie of fantasies my parents would be ashamed of.

Those were the days. When you could stare at the object of your affection in class without them even noticing.

Okay, that probably came off particularly creepy. But really, it's not like I hunted them down and stood outside their dorm window watching them remove said soft-vintage-muscley shirt like I maybe had dreamed about helping him rip- uh, take...off. No, no. That would be weird.

Yeah. That would be weird...right?


(Okay, so it is 10am after all. It's not my fault I'm a slow typer!)