Charming, but single

Friday night I went to see an 80s cover band with my girlfriends. As is probably required by all 80s cover bands, pretty early on they played “Here I Go Again” by Whitesnake, which caused me to erupt into a fit of giggles.

It was 1999. I was a freshman in college and I’d hung out a few times with Computer Guy. I don’t actually remember how we met, but he was a year older than I was and had a single room in a huge guys’ dorm across campus. My second semester roommate in the dorm was a touch of a hermit and I looked for chances to escape in the evenings during the week because she was constantly around. (She went home each weekend.)

(Three quick funny stories about my second semester college roommate, who was a preacher’s daughter from a small, small town. Story No. 1: I always went out to a bar with a group of friends on Thursday nights. She didn’t go out much. One Thursday morning while we were getting ready for class, she said, “Oh, I’m going out tonight to [Popular Campus Church Group for Baptists], would you like to come?” I politely declined. She wasn’t pushy about me going, but she did say, “Don’t get worried if I’m not back until late this evening.” Come 9 p.m. I was sitting on my bed, about to apply my make-up when she came back and said, “Oh, you decided to stay in?” And I smiled and said, “No, I haven’t left yet.” She was slightly mortified. Story No. 2: Another night I was halfheartedly writing a paper when Computer Guy sent me an instant message inviting me over to watch a movie. It was around 11:30 p.m. when I slipped on jeans, a stretchy T-shirt and some shoes and my roommate said, “You’re leaving? We have class tomorrow.” And I said, “Oh, I’m going to study biology with [Computer Guy].” And she looked at me, standing there in my best “Comfy Chic” outfit and said, “Aren’t you going to bring your books?” I paused, realizing that I had only my keys and my school ID to get back into the dorm, and said, “Oh, we’re going to use his books.” And, bless her soul, I think she believed me. Story No. 3: A few years later I tagged along to a happy hour with some friends. As I was introduced to the large group of attendees, one woman said, “[Charming]?” She had bright red dyed hair and was wearing a tight tank top and sipping a margarita. It was my innocent little roommate, who came out of her shell sometime after she lived with me and put up with my antics. To this day, I don’t think my friends believe me when I tell them about how quiet she was when we shared a room.)

Dating in college (at least in my experience) was less dinner and dancing and more dorm room movie night and making out or (when I was a little older) shots together and sloppy making out in the corner of a bar. (Nothing says true romance like a shot of Jagermeister with a Bud Light chaser.) My courtship with the Computer Guy is marked by a lot of movies I’ve never finished watching, some fantastic back massages and a failed attempt at learning to drive a standard in the parking lot of his dorm.

Computer Guy and I hung out right at the beginning of file sharing and mp3 downloading and he had a most fantastic collection of pirated songs, organized by type and mood. One night we skipped the movie altogether and he reached over and turned on some music for our make out session.

Which brings me back to White Snake.

“What are we listening to?” I asked, placing my hands on his shoulders and pushing my face back from his.

“That song where Tawny Kitaen is in the video,” he said, reaching around my neck to pull me back to him, clearly annoyed that I was more concerned with the song than the kissing.

I wasn’t through with my inquisition.

“You have a Whitesnake playlist?”

“It’s not a Whitesnake playlist,” he said, getting huffy. “I have an 80s playlist.”

I accepted this answer and we went back to our kissing.

Flash forward a few years to a night of guy gossip with my girlfriends. We were telling embarrassing hook up stories and songs we listened to with guys – Dave Matthews was a popular choice for sure. I said, “I once hooked up with a guy to that song by Whitesnake. You know, the one with the woman writhing on top of the car?” thinking that surely – surely! – someone else had a similar experience.

My friends’ jaws dropped. Crickets chirped in the background.

“So, your date thought, ‘Sweet! Chicks dig Whitesnake!’ and decided to put the moves on it to you?”

“Um, well, not exactly.”

“How does that Whitesnake song even fit? Here he goes again on his own – as he makes out with you?”

“That’s not why …”

“Was he like all into hair metal bands or something? I mean, we went to college in the late 90s, so that must’ve been very weird.”

The conversation continued like this for several minutes. And my friends have never let me live my Whitesnake Make Out down.

Computer Guy and I haven’t seen each other in years. He moved before he finished school and we occasionally saw each other when he would visit town.

But every time I hear Whitesnake, I’m reminded of his small dorm room, movies left half-seen and sneaking through the stairwell exit into his dorm late at night. And I always wonder if, like a drifter, he was just born to walk alone.