Linda, my freshman year roommate, and I met up with other new dorm friends on our way to Howie’s Haufbrauhaus. We found our recent freedom from parental oversight exhilarating. The place was packed during Friday happy hour. I don’t remember ever sitting down to eat at Howie’s but I’d heard they had a good burger. Howie’s was the ideal venue to scope out guys.
Standing shoulder to shoulder, there was little opportunity for conversation above the merriment. We saved our brief shouts for pertinent information.
Jenni: “Hey, it’s the guy with the hair!”
Cece: “where’s plaid shirt guy he’s usually with?”
Linda: “how’s my hair?”
Me: “who wants a beer?”
UWL was not a big school in 1975. Maybe 8,000 students? So it wasn’t unusual to see the same people walking around or frequenting the same bars. Jenni’s eyes were on a young man with a long blond ponytail.
“Did you figure out which dorm he lives in?”
“I wonder if he has a girlfriend?”
Our questions remained unanswered as the scoping continued. The guy with the ponytail turned out to be Toby Lee, a third cousin to the as yet unmet man who would become my husband.
I remember the exact moment David walked into Howie’s wearing a white button down oxford shirt, sleeves rolled up. His tousled dishwater blond hair was wavy on top. Even from a distance I could tell he had a well defined brow. His full eyebrows were framed with small rectangular wire rimmed glasses. He looked almost European and slightly out of place in
this college bar full of underclassmen. He had deliciously tanned and muscular forearms. I’d glance his way often but then he was gone.
Amongst a sea of baby faced college boys, David looked older and as though he had a story to share.
I didn’t see him again for almost two years.
