College was a rough time for me. Intellectually, the first two semesters were awesome. Nothing else about the experience lived up to my expectations. I would be tempted to say that there wasn't really even one single highlight in my life while I was there.

The third semester was the worst. It started in Chemistry.

The only blemish on my grades from the first semester came from a Teaching Assistant that felt the need to flaunt her power. In spite of straight A's on exams and perfect results in labs, she gave me an F in for the 20% of my grade that she controlled. She felt that I didn't participate enough.

Somehow, I got stuck with her in the second semester as well. She didn't have any suggestions on how to improve my performance to improve my grade. I had perfect attendance in her class reviews, I did all of the homework, and I even asked questions. She still felt the need to give me an F.

In the third semester, I switched from General Chemistry to Organic Chemistry. Unbelievably, she was the Assistant Professor for that class, and she had control of 50% of my grade. She let me know on Day One that I was going to fail. I tried to move to another class, but I couldn't find anything that fit in my schedule with my other classes.

The trouble continued in Computer Programming. On the first day of class, the professor informed us that he graded on a strict Bell Curve. I shouldn't have had any worries, but I didn't know I was in a class full of geniuses.

With the final approaching, I had perfect attendance and a 98% average for exams and homework. I should have been proud. Instead, I was at the bottom of the bell curve. Even with a perfect exam score, I was likely to get a D in the class.

I had similar problems in Calculus and Electronic Circuit Fundamentals. My GPA was going to take a hit that was going to make me miserable.

If the problems had ended there, I might have been okay. They didn't.

I am the middle child of five. My parents were struggling to help three of us in college. The oldest had it easy. She was getting a degree in Music Education. There must have been a big demand for that, because she got all kinds of financial support. I couldn't tell you how my older brother paid for school. He didn't have good grades, and he drank a lot. Somehow, he got better scholarships than our sister.

I, on the other hand, could not get anyone to give me a dime. I worked three summer jobs, saved almost every penny, took out big student loans, and it still wasn't enough. My parents really wanted to help, but there wasn't much there, either. I managed to pay for the third semester, but I barely had half of what I needed for the fourth.

My mom had the best useless advice ever: Get a girlfriend. Her idea was that a girlfriend would be the incentive I needed to find a way to overcome the intellectual and financial problems. It would have been good advice, except I wasn't having any better luck with girls than I was with my other problems.

Girls shouldn't have been a problem, but they were.

I had dated a girl in High School. She taught me to kiss properly. We both knew that she wasn't a virgin, and I rather expected her to let me go all the way eventually. For some reason, she broke up with me before that ever happened. She claimed that I was too nice of a guy, and she didn't want to corrupt me.

I sort of started dating another girl just as I left for college. A few months later, she broke up with me, but she didn't bother to let me know. Her parents wouldn't let her talk on the phone, so we sent a lot of letters back and forth. Her final letter to me was a postcard with a quote from an Eagles song. Of course, I should have known that she was already gone.

I was starting to think there might be something wrong with me.

It occurred to me that I was at a college, surrounded by ten thousand co-eds, and not a single one of them knew my name. I tried to change that. There was this girl that lived in the same dorm tower that I did, and I would see her several times a week on the elevator. I ran into her once at the library, and I tried to start a conversation. She shushed me. I asked her if she would meet me outside. She glared at me and said, "Go away!"

I really knew something was wrong with me.

The universe wasn't done messing with me, either.

As the end of that miserable third semester started to wrap up, I saw an opportunity to hopefully make nice with a girl. Our dormitory tower was divided into "houses" of two floors each. Men and women were segregated by floors, and each house had a floor of each. Our house organized a Secret Santa program and asked for everyone to sign up.

If things worked out, I would spend the last week before finals buying little gifts for a girl, and some other girl would spend the same week buying little gifts for me. With that much-shared attention, there had to be something of a chance to meet a girl and get to know her.

Things didn't work out. More guys had signed up than girls, so after all of the girls had drawn names, the extra guy names were dumped in with the girl's names for us to draw. Of all the useless, messed up things that the universe could have dumped on me, when I drew a name, I got my roommates name.

Well, strike one against me. I laughed, and made sure he didn't know, and I did a good job of misleading him so that he thought one of the women was leaving the gifts.

Maybe it was because if that misdirection that I noticed that I was being misdirected as well. In fact, by the middle of the week, I was fairly certain that either my roommate or one of the guys he hung out with was my Secret Santa. As far as I was concerned, that was strike two.

Things happened quickly over the next several days. First, an old high school friend who knew I was thinking about dropping out, called and offered me a job. Then, my parents called and let me know that if I wanted a ride home, it had to be that weekend, or else I was stuck until mid-January. Finally, I was able to take three of my five finals early, so I did them all on the same day.

My parents probably didn't realize that I was coming home for good. I gave away most of my stuff, packed everything else into a giant duffle bag, and planned to meet them out by the bus station late on Saturday. They were spending the day at my Aunt's house further north, and that would save them time as they swung through to pick me up on their way home.

The committee that had organized the Secret Santa caught me as I was leaving. The big reveal party was just kicking off, and they felt it was unfair for me to leave early. They agreed to let me reveal first so I could go.

My roommate had already guessed that I was his Santa. He had seen a receipt for one of the gifts. We shook hands, and I waited for him to reveal that he was my Santa.

They asked me to guess, and I named him. I pointed out the things that he had done to give away the secret. He was laughing the whole time. When I finished, he simply said, "Nope."

It turned out that my Santa was one of the freshman girls. I was surprised that she had even signed up, because she was supposedly dating a senior. While everybody else laughed at how well they had tricked me, she gave me a shy and embarrassed look. I shrugged an apology to her, and she smiled her thanks. We both knew it had all been in good fun.

I really did have to go if I was going to make my ride. I offered her my hand to shake.

Somebody in the back yelled, "Uh, uh, don't shake hands. It's gotta be a kiss!"

We both blushed as we looked at each other's lips. Our eyes met, and she nodded. I gently leaned in and pressed my lips to hers. She was smiling as I pulled away.

Somebody in the back yelled, "That's not a kiss! Kiss her!"

We both blushed again. Our eyes stayed lock on each other's, but we both nervously licked our lips. She nodded.

My eyes dropped to her lips. They were very full, and they had felt wonderfully soft and warm the first time. I couldn't take my eyes off them, so I tried to distract her by sliding my hand up to caress my thumb along her jaw. Her lips parted, and I knew she wanted a real kiss as much as I did.

My eyes lifted back to hers as I leaned in. Her eyes sensually drifted shut, and mine followed suit.

Our lips touched. Hers were impossibly warmer than the first time, but still just as soft and full. The lightest pressure of my tongue easily parted them, and then her tongue met mine and invited it to dance.

My hand slid to her neck, and my fingers slid into her hair. The slightest whimper escaped her throat, and our heads turned as our tongues dueled.

Her hands had been politely resting on my sides. They both slid to my ribs, and her fingers dug into my flesh as she tried to pull herself closer. Her tongue retreated, but only to allow her teeth a chance to attack. My tongue got startled by the sinful sharpness, and as it retreated, her teeth caught my lower lip. Her tongue darted out to tease the flesh that her teeth held, and it promised that it would tease any flesh that she caught.

We both eased back, and our eyes met. Her pupils were hugely dilated, and she gasped a bit for air as her eyes intently studied my lips. When her eyes made it back to mine, she gave me a nervous smile. I think we were both very aware of each other's need to take more.

She suddenly realized what her eyes were asking, and she turned an embarrassed look to the floor. The ongoing noise around us suddenly came rushing to our ears. Everybody was cheering and yelling, and the voice at the back of the room yelled, "Now that's a kiss!"

Time seemed to stand still as my eyes returned to her lips. Time waited as I made up my mind that I liked kissing those lips, and I was ready to do whatever it would take to have her offer those lips to me for the rest of my life. They parted again, and I knew she was ready to explore what I had to offer.

There was a DING, and time jumped to double speed.

"There's the elevator!" my roommate shouted. "Quick! Catch it! It's so slow that it will take forever for it to return!"

Suddenly, he and his friends were dragging me and my duffle bag away from the girl. They laughed and joked as they pulled me into the elevator. They continued to laugh as we plummeted to the first floor. I wanted to go back, I wanted to talk to the girl, but the door opened and they pulled me across the lobby and practically shoved me out the door.

Impossibly, my parents chose that moment to pull up to the dormitory. They claimed they were early, and they knew it would be faster to come get me than to wait out at the bus terminal. My roommate shook my hand, my parents dragged me into the car, and all hopes of returning to the girl were gone.

That all happened so very long ago, and I've lived a whole life since then. My wife is an amazing kisser, and I love her very much. In the early hours after midnight, when I'm all alone and typing stories of my life, I can close my eyes and remember that kiss. I remember that kiss, and I have to wonder, "If only."