I think what I miss most about boys from college was having somebody to go home to when the bars close. 

Go home drunk, go home messy, go home to someone that, even briefly, knew who I was after the party was over. The slight stumble through their door, excited arms thrown around their neck in an embrace. The giggle drenched “hello handsome” in between fingers pressed against their chests.

The crooked socks, pale lips, tangled hair. The drool pooled on their chests as snores escape lips. The weeping laughs of joy that fade into bursts of pain as the lights turn off. The woman that sits in a ball in the corner, trying to make herself smaller and smaller. 

When morning comes, they pick up banners and streamers, and through the mess, catch a momentary shimmer of the girl they adore.