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I had this really good friend in college. He was the spitting image of my brother, so there was absolutely NO sexual tension, although he was a good looking guy (trust me, it was like they were twins separated at birth). He had a wonderfully irreverent sense of humor. We worked together when I was an RA in the dorms. He came up with fun stuff for the residents to do. He was smart and talented and wild. I can't even do justice to the funny/crazy stuff he did here on DU. But he was my Hunter S. Thompson buddy, or one of them, one of the people with whom I could quote chapter and verse of Fear and Loathing. Once when I was studying, he called a radio station I was listening to and somehow managed to get on the air, screaming, "PLAY WHITE RABBIT! I WANT A RISING SOUND!" When a friend of mine that he didn't even know needed a place to stay in order to get an abortion, he put her up for three days because I asked him to. He was that good a friend. He was like a brother to me, and I was his sister.
After I graduated from college, I made the decision to move to Atlanta from Oregon. I went up to Portland to see Robb with another friend of ours. At the end of a long beer-soaked night, they turned the lights on and started playing the jukebox, and Lisa Loeb's Stay came on. Robb took my hand and looked deeply into my eyes, and he said, "Stay. Don't go to Atlanta. Stay here, move to Portland. But please don't leave Oregon and please don't leave me,"
I will hate myself for it for the rest of my days, but I said, "I'll keep in touch," But I didn't. I lost track of him after a few years. And he has an extremely common last name. I guess I'd give just about anything to be able to talk to him today. But I suspect that even if I could, it wouldn't be the same. I can't think of him now, or hear that song, without tearing up.
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