When I was a freshman in college, one of the first friendships I made was with a girl I’ll call Megan. I don’t mean friendship as in we knew each other’s names and would say hi, I mean we would have long conversations about anything and everything and would always be texting and inviting each other to school events. Normally I’m pretty nervous around cute girls (especially back then) but I was able to stay cool with Megan because I was head over heels for another girl. There were times when it seemed like Megan wanted more from me but I just wasn’t too interested at the time and eventually she found another guy she clicked with.
Fast forward to the next school year and I ask her to hangout and catch up about our summer vacations. I meet her a few days later at a campus café and was not prepared for the flood of emotions I was about to feel. Her silky blonde hair had recently been cut into a blunt style that came down just past shoulder length. To contrast her beautifully pale complexion she had on a flowing black dress which exposed her athletic legs all the way down to a pair of simple black boots. I remember little about what we said or did that evening because I was so in awe of how pretty she looked and how we still had such good conversational chemistry. She made sure to respectfully bring up one thing early in the conversation: she was still seeing the same guy.