By Atlanta Stud
The first week of my college semester I met a great guy who hailed from the tiny town of Pella, Iowa; basically a farming community. He was a typical midwestern farmboy in every sense of the way wrapped in a hot 5’ 10” tight muscled frame. He had a natural cowboy look about him and you could tell he knew it too, and it was rare for him to be seen in anything other than jeans and western boots from Fall to late Spring.
Whereas Dave was into his boots, I was into sneakers, especially New Balance, and also desert tan combat boots, my so-called winter shoes. When my sneaks got to that point where they maintained that nice sweaty aroma even when not having been worn a day or two, that’s when they won that special place in my heart. It wasn’t uncommon for me to wear the same low cut or no-show socks a week straight, or no socks at all just to help ’em get there that much quicker. Seems I’ve always had a thing for smelly sneaks and socks. Who knows why certain things make us “tick,” but for whatever reason, that had an effect on me.
Although we lived in different dorms, we spent a lot of time together helping each other with the dreaded required courses we shared, grabbing a beer, and catching the home football games. Dave has a natural take-charge attitude, and though I wouldn’t consider myself passive, I found myself attracted to his dominant personality. Practically inseparable, we decided to room together beginning the second semester at my dorm since the rooms there were bigger and a bit closer to most classes than where he was living on campus.
