Debbie Does Drivel

Chicago: My Version

There was this guy.
Lord, how I want to write his name, since it so epitomized his football- and basketball-playing MVP-ness, his revered sandy-haired high school popularity. (Think of a name like Cock Gage or something close...)

He always had an interest in me. Not in a romantic way, more in like a benign "she's weird, I want to know why" manner. I recall his staring at me (quizzically) in the 11th grade. He was a year older then me and going out with my friend (Lord! I want to write her name, since it's so perfectly Sweet Valley High! But must protect names of the innocent). He hung out in the lounge with us before school, before heading to the "Boys Side" of our Catholic school.
I'd eat Nutty Buddies and think myself too chubby, too moony, for proper male attention. I never thought in a million years his eyes really took me in...or that he knew my name even.

We ended up at the same college. And still he had this interest in me. He'd try to talk to me sometimes, and I just looked past him. Truly, I believed he couldn't know who I was. He was too cool! Too sandy-haired!

One time, before his graduation, he grabbed me by the shoulders, shook them and said, "Just let loose!" I knew what he meant. But wondered, "did he?"

At least four years later (after I left L.A.), I saw him often in my Chicago neighborhood. One night, we end up at the same party. By this time, I've lost significant weight and looked a different person. But still, there's this quiet taking stock of me that I'd grown to recognize. At some point, he pulls me onto his lap. This made my roommate a bit skeevy, since she'd made out with him quite lasciviously the summer before.

He does not let me leave his lap. I don't know where to look, since we don't really know each other. I assume he must be drunk.

Later, a big group of us head to the late-night bar by 2AM. At closing time, it shakes out to be me, my roommate, this guy and his cousin (his whole extended family was a conglomerate of good-looking golden boys at my high school....seriously, they were like Brad Pittlets). At some point, he gives me a kiss on the cheek and cocks his head to the side in a "shall we?" look.

I turn aside the look, laugh, and make a joke of it.

Nothing happens.

Later, I find out he dated MM (geez! this not writing names is challenging. so much of the story exists in these monikers which so exactly draw these personalities) for some years. She had a big nose.

My question: did he like me all along or was he just one of those big schnoz guys?

I am plagued.