What happened to your lonely soul.
I heard of Douglas before I met him. The girls in the labs were a-twitter about Professor Radke's cute new graduate assistant. So naturally, in order to substantiate their claims only, I had to see this guy for myself. My reconnaissance found a tall broad-shouldered and exceedingly handsome man with some terrific arms. He had the added bonus of a smooth, melodic British accent and a dry languid wit that made everything he said sound so intellectual and funny at the same time. My report back to the girls was that yes, the new guy was intelligent, beautiful, looked just like some classical Greek sculpture, and thus I wholeheartedly agreed he was an excellent eye candy addition to Wurster Hall. I am not sure which one of us took the sculpture analysis one step further and came up with the nickname "Greek God", but I continued to use the acronym "GG" as my nickname for Douglas for many years. His attempts to decipher what it meant became so self-debasing (Grotesque Gargoyle, etc) that I finally had to admit what GG stood for just to stop his delusion that it meant something terrible about him. His response was simply "Oh?" Not an "of course" kind of "oh" with that mix of satisfaction beautiful people get because they are so used to being admired, rather, more like a "Where is the hidden camera? Where is Alan Funt?" kind of "oh", like it was impossible from him to believe he would ever been given such a flattering nickname. I had to scribble down "humble" along with his other attributes.

Douglas was more than good looks, he was a good friend. In my presence he was playful, lighthearted and wholly and biasedly on my side during any my endeavors or complications with others. He was quick to slice down my perceived enemies; to this day when I feel I need some invisible backup I say aloud "slimy profiteering bastards!" imitating his crisp indignant accent for the full effect. He was thoughtful and encouraging when I needed it, and made me laugh with his witty emails deep in wild metaphors and polysyllabics. How could he be such a cheerleader for me but not himself? I don't know. Yet I can't remember any hint of coldness or contempt in him, only unmitigated kindness towards me. I have many fond memories and I will hold on to them fiercely knowing they are my last with him. I will protect my little pockets of this happy friendship and press them between the leaves of a book, put it high up there so I can take it out and page through them when I'm in so need of his loyal bolstering support again. I'm going to remember it all this way. Douglas, I'm going to remember you this way.