34. Uni Boyfriends Buster
Buster was different from anyone I had dated before—he was a pilot almost as soon as he could walk. His father and uncle owned Augusta Aviation at Daniel Field, a small airport in Augusta, where many Masters golfers would fly in. He also was a working student, an Student Athletic Trainer for the UGa football and basketball teams.
My early relationship with Buster was tumultuous.
When we first started dating, Buster had only recently broken up with his longtime girlfriend, and unresolved feelings lingered between them. While we were together, she became jealous and resentful of our relationship.
At one point, she reported me for drinking — though in reality, I had only had one beer.
Still, that was enough. I received two weeks of grounding and was confined to staying in at night because of the drinking violation.
Buster and I continued seeing each other, but before long he drifted back toward his old girlfriend. Then, in April, he informed me that he was taking her to the Sigma Chi Sweetheart Dance. At the very same time, he invited me to spend the week with him and his family in Augusta and attend The Masters Golf Tournament.
I was not happy.
By then, another possibility had entered the picture. I had met and started dating Tommy.
Tommy was fun, intriguing, and very handsome, with big brown eyes that I found incredibly sexy. He was full of energy and confidence. A gymnast and a cheerleader at the University of Georgia, he carried himself with an athletic ease and charm that drew people to him naturally.
He also worked while going to school, holding a job at one of the men’s clothing stores in Athens. There was something attractive to me about that combination of fun, discipline, and independence.
By then, my relationship with Buster had become uncertain and emotionally tangled.
So when Tommy invited me to his own Sweetheart Dance — which happened to fall on the exact same weekend as the Masters trip with Buster — the choice suddenly became very real.
And honestly, I wanted to go to a sweetheart dance.
I wanted excitement, romance, music, laughter, and the thrill of being with someone new and captivating.
So I chose Tommy.
At that age, decisions were often made more from feeling than from careful thought. Life moved quickly, guided by attraction, emotion, curiosity, and the desire to experience everything fully. And Tommy represented something exciting and alive at exactly the right moment in my life.
College life sparkled then,
full of music,
late nights,
new faces,
and endless possibility.
One handsome boy fades,
another appears,
and suddenly the heart changes direction
without hesitation.
Summer 1965
I began dating Tommy and even stayed for summer school because I wanted to continue seeing him and also wanted to keep enjoying the fun and freedom of college life.
I had originally planned to return to Skyland Camp as a counselor that summer, but once again, boys triumphed over mountains. I canceled my Skyland summer plans.
Boys changed my direction often.
A dance,
a smile,
a new attraction,
and suddenly the future shifted.
Mountains gave way to music,
campfires to fraternity dances,
and childhood slowly dissolved
into the complicated excitement
of becoming a woman.
Fall 1975
I didn’t see Buster again until the following fall.
One day we passed each other crossing campus on our way to class and casually said hello. Later that evening, he called me and told me he had finally broken up with his old girlfriend.
Before long, we were dating again. This time, things felt more settled between us. By October, we were lavaliered, which in those days felt meaningful and serious. It was a public sign that you belonged together.
Lavaliere Ceremony
One of my sweetest memories from happened the night Buster gave me his lavaliere necklace.
In those days, becoming lavaliered, pinned, or engaged was considered a significant milestone in a sorority sister's life. At the Alpha Delta Pi house, there was a special ceremony to celebrate these occasions.
The ceremony always took place after curfew.
The girl would quietly speak with the housemother beforehand, and she would arrange for the ceremony to be called. No one else knew who it was for or what the announcement would be.
When the time came, all the sisters would gather together and form a large circle, holding hands.
Then we would sing a special song.
There was something beautiful about standing there surrounded by young women who cared about one another, voices blending together in the soft light of evening.
After the song, a candle was passed from sister to sister around the circle.
No one knew where it would stop.
The anticipation built as the candle made its way from hand to hand.
Finally, it would come to rest with the girl who had called the ceremony.
Only then would she announce her news.
That night, the candle stopped with me.
I announced that Buster had given me his lavaliere and that we were officially lavaliered.
It was a simple tradition, but at nineteen years old it felt magical.
For a few moments, I stood in the center of a circle of friendship, celebration, and shared joy.
Looking back now, I realize that what made the evening so special was not the necklace itself.
It was the feeling of belonging.
The feeling of being surrounded by people who were genuinely happy for me.
I am grateful to Buster for many things, but one of them is that because of him, I experienced that beautiful ceremony—a memory that has remained warm and bright in my heart all these years.
The necklace was lovely,
but it is not what I remember most.
I remember the circle.
Hands joined.
Voices singing.
A candle passing softly
from sister to sister.
Buster
One of the things I liked most about Buster was that he truly enjoyed simply “hanging out” together. We wanted to be around each other constantly.
On school nights, we would go to the library and study side by side. On weekends, we filled our days and evenings with fun — football weekends, road trips, dinners, parties, and all the ordinary little moments that make young love feel so complete.
Snow
A memory stands out vividly. We were sitting together in Buster’s Volkswagen Beetle at a park in Athens when I saw snow falling for the very first time. Large flakes drifted softly onto the windshield, melting almost as soon as they touched the glass. I was mesmerized.
Growing up in Florida, snow had belonged to another world entirely. Watching it fall felt magical and beautiful, and the memory has stayed with me all my life.
Other Memories
Buster and I shared many happy experiences together.
We drove to Jacksonville to meet my parents for the Florida–Georgia football game. We spent weekends in Augusta with his parents.
When in Augusta he took me flying in a J-3. We did some acrobatics, but I had to promise not to tell his dad.
Life with Buster felt full, social, and exciting.
My Grandfather
Something very sweet happened during that time involving my grandfather, who had also been a member of Sigma Chi at the University of Georgia many years earlier.
When the Sigma Chi president learned that my grandfather had been one of their fraternity brothers, he took the time to write him a thoughtful letter.
The letter warmly greeted him, wished him well, and proudly informed him that his granddaughter was dating one of his Sigma Chi brothers.
It was such a gracious and touching gesture.
My grandfather was delighted.
At the time, fraternity life at Georgia carried a strong sense of tradition, loyalty, and belonging. That letter reflected those values beautifully.
Unlavaliered
But as the school year came to an end and Buster prepared to enter the Air Force, things began to shift once again. At his insistence, we became unlavaliered.
Once again, I was hurt and disappointed. And once again, when my heart was bruised, I found myself turning back toward Tommy, who at that moment happened to be unattached too.
Youthful love often moved in circles like that — intense, emotional, hopeful, heartbreaking, and endlessly changing.
At the time, every relationship felt permanent while it lasted.
Only later do you realize how much growing was happening beneath it all.
Love in youth can change like seasons.
One moment certain,
the next uncertain again.
Yet every relationship leaves something behind:
a snowfall on a windshield,
a football weekend,
a long night studying side by side,
the memory of being deeply wanted.
And though hearts break,
they also expand.
Learning slowly,
through joy and disappointment alike,
what love is,
and what it is not.
Fall 1976
I saw Buster only twice after he left the University of Georgia.
The next fall, I was attending school at the Medical College of Georgia in Augusta, and Buster was stationed at Moody Air Force Base in Valdosta for pilot training.
The first time we saw each other again was when he came home to Augusta for a weekend visit. We went out together on a Saturday night and genuinely enjoyed being together again.
Afterward, he invited me to a celebratory dance marking his graduation from T-37 training, which represented the halfway point in his pilot training before moving on to T-38s.
I was excited.
I drove to Valdosta for the weekend, imagining it would be romantic and special — a chance to reconnect with someone who had once been very important to me.
But things did not unfold the way I had hoped.
At the dance, his attention seemed elsewhere. He was deeply absorbed in the excitement and intensity of pilot training and the camaraderie surrounding it. I felt more like an afterthought than someone he was truly happy to be with.
And to make matters worse, he became drunk — something I had never seen him do before on a date with me.
I was not impressed.
Later, we returned to his apartment, where he promptly passed out.
I left him there and returned alone to the room I had on the airbase.
I left the next day and that was the last time I ever saw him.
When I returned to Augusta, I sensed quietly and clearly that something between us had ended for good.
Then, about two weeks later, I opened the Augusta newspaper and saw a photograph of him as a groomsmen in one of his friend’s wedding in town.
He had never called to tell me he was there.
That settled it for me.
I decided I would not see him again.
Looking Back
Looking back, I can see that by then we were already moving into different worlds, becoming different people. What once felt important and lasting had simply run its course.
Buster did two tours of Vietnam in a F105. He returned to Augusta and was Airport Director of Augusta Regional Airport. He was conducted to the Georgia Aviation Hall of Fame along with his father and uncle.
Medical Students
And after spending a few months around medical students in Augusta, I came to another conclusion entirely:
I decided I was going to marry a doctor.
Bad decision!!
At least, that was what I would later come to believe.
Youth keeps moving forward,
already searching for the next dream,
the next possibility,
the next person who might finally feel like home.
To be continued.
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