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Poem

Weekends started on a Thursday night;
Two quarters reserved your spot in the next foosball fight;
The jukebox played "Afternoon Delight";
Somewhere in the bar was your future wife.

The red stamp on your hand meant you could drink high beer
Because on your ID was a fake birth year;
After the third or fourth pitcher you started feeling queer;
How you got back to your dorm wasn't exactly clear.

You somehow passed your Physics class;
Your first test failed wouldn't be your last;
You wanted to lose your virginity fast,
But the chance to do that had already come and passed.

Your roommates had girls in their bed;
You pretended to stay up studying instead;
Noises from the bedroom echoed in your head,
So you pumped up the volume from the album by Bread.

Your roommate's girlfriend set you up on a date,
You showed up drunk and just a little bit late;
The rest of the evening didn't go so great,
Maybe being the single guy was to be your fate.

You bumped into a girl in your favorite bar,
Watched her all night from a seat afar;
When the lights flickered to signal last call,
She walked right pass saying, "What an idiot you are".

You chased her down out on the street,
Because you knew you two had to meet;
She swept you right off of your feet,
Ever since that night, your life has been complete.

You like looking back on your college days;
With each passing year they turn more to haze;
You embellish the stories about this awkward phase;
But they all end well as long as she stays.

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