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I met Randy at my alma mater, in the cafeteria.  I was a freshman, and he was a junior.

Up to that point, I had not paid any attention to upperclassmen, feeling my lowly inferiority in knowledge and life experience as a young teenager.  I stuck with a group of freshman girls from my dorm and tended to keep the blinders on in class and other social settings in the hope that others wouldn’t notice me if I didn’t notice them.  You could say I was timid.

Randy and I literally bumped into one another.  Literally.  He turned around and apologized, saying, “Excuse me, Naomi.”

I’m sure my eyes bugged out of my head.  I had no idea who this guy was, and he knew my name.  !!!  He didn’t realize it, but his knowing my name was extremely flattering.  I’m sure I was blushing bright red.

“How do you know my name?”

“Oh, I work for yearbook,” was his suave reply.  “I’ve seen your picture.”

Hubba hubba.

I frolicked back to my little gaggle of freshman girls, telling them about my encounter with a super hot upperclassman guy.  One of said friends squashed my enthusiasm by telling me he already had a girlfriend.

Oh, well, I was too buoyant over the whole encounter to let this unfortunate news get me down.  I crossed him off my list of potential love interests, but kept him on the “favorable first impression” list.

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