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One thing about nice guys, though... they finish last. At 21 and 22 years old I was more than ready to have someone special in my life, but was "too good a friend," so I was told by many girls, with whom to date or have a relationship at all. It was pathetic, and I began to turn bitter to those words... developing a theory that women who say that are asking to be beaten in a relationship later on if they don't choose someone who truly is a friend. My first year in Stevens Point brought better grades than Whitewater, and my two weeks' active duty in 1984 was at beautiful NAS-Barbers Point... in sunny Hawaii... in cold and dreary February. Awesome! VP-90 was an anti-submarine warfare squadron of P-3 aircraft, and our missions when we went active were to search for and track the movement of Soviet subs. One of my weekends home that spring also saw one last fling with Jean. She wanted to see me again and asked if I'd write from college, but to be honest I worried about what her dad would think... no doubt he would wonder what a 22-year old college student was doing with his daughter, then a senior in high school. I didn't write... and after graduating she followed her dad's footsteps, joining the Army and marrying a year later. My first year in Stevens Point also brought a severe drain on my checking account. A year in the Navy yielded enough money for one year of college. So, for the second time my schooling was interrupted, and I took a year off to work, finding a job that summer at Kentucky Fried Chicken. My closest friend and deepest crush was Cheryl Anne. I'd see her about once a week or so for conversation and occasionally supper. She had been dating a guy for a couple years and there was no sign of her breaking it off, though. After she went away to grad school at Western Michigan University I'd stop by to see her ex-roommates when I was on that side of town for a hello. It was then that I learned that Cheryl had, in their words, "lit up like a firefly" everytime I had visitied or called over the entire year before. If I wasn't such a "nice" guy, the thought of stealing her away could have yielded something really special. Over my year off from school I lived off-campus with some guys from my dorm the year before. The core group of my college buds was formed in that house. They each chose UWSP because it was close to home; every weekend they'd leave to be with their families and I'd have the house completely to myself. During the week they took classes, and at night I was their hero when I'd bring home leftover chicken. It was at KFC that I met three girls... Deb, Debbie, and Joy. |