I'll call him Michael Phelps, or MP for short. We met one Friday at the movies, through my roomate. We weren't introduced, but we were in the same place at the same time: Sherlock Holmes, first Friday back after winter break. We seemed to hit it off (he made me laugh and gave me his movie candy, I shared my popcorn). My roomie gave me his number. The next day was the swim meet (Michael Phelps, he's a swimmer, geddit? :biggrin. That morning I texted him "Good luck". I was going to the meet to support my roomate and cheer her on, and he was there. In a speedo and nothing else. OH. MY. GOD. Later on that day, he asked me what my plans for the night were, and he said that we could either go out, or watch a movie. Since I knew that "going out" meant "party and get shitfaced", I chose the movie, since I didn't want MP to see me drunk right after we'd met. We watched V for Vendetta in his room, or should I say we watched until the part when Eve meets V, and then he kissed me. And we missed the rest of the movie. Plus the credits, and the disk had long stopped spinning by the time we were done kissing. That was our first night together. It was also the best kiss I'd ever had (thus far). I didn't go any farther than I've never gone before. Except he was the only one to do it right. And he also respected my boundaries. When I wanted to leave that night, he said, "Oh, I disagree" and held me tighter. Eventually, he did walk me back to my own dorm and kissed me goodnight. The next day I texted him hey, and he responded. That was the beginning of the best week of my life. Nearly every night I walked across campus, fell onto his bed, lost both our shirts (and my bra) and did some serious kissing and then some. He always respected my boundaries, was okay with the fact that I'm a virgin (quote: "It's okay. There's no pressure." *kiss*), gave me a blanket when I got cold, never tried to get me to do anything I didn't want to do, texted me funny things "There's a pair of socks in my room. Any idea who they might belong to? ". He would kiss me goodnight outside my dorm. He would fall asleep holding me close, and he was hellbent on getting me to stay the night- and just that, sleep there. When he walked me back, he would randomly stop, pull me towards him, and kiss me. His face would light up and he would smile whenever he saw me in the dining hall. Then one week later, a Sunday, after eating out (with the entire swim team), he came over to my room for a change. My roomate, MP and I watched the Grammies and made sarcastic comments about the Jonas Brothers. He was sitting very close to me. Then he said that he was tired and he wanted me to walk him out. I did. The conversation went like this. Me: (leaning in) Can I see you tomorrow? MP: I don't think we should see each other any more. Me: Okay. MP: You sure? Me: Yup. MP: Bye. For two and a half weeks he ignored me. Even when I ended up sitting next to him at dinner (that was a stroke of bad luck). He pretended I didn't exist. I was especially miserable on Valentine's Day, since it was offically a week since he ended things. I spent these last two weeks drinking, rebound-dancing, drunken hookup (still no sex), chain-smoking and being generally miserable and lonely. Then, late Wednesday night he texts me: "Hey." Half an hour of utterly freaking-the-fuck-out later, I text him back: "Hey, what's up with you?" I still haven't gotten a response (it's Saturday night). I know for a fact that he was drinking that night. I literally do not know what's going on. The majority of my friends say: "A drunk mind reveals a sober heart", whereas others say, "Ignore him". I feel like a loser because I still want him back. Please someone tell me what's going on: does he still have feelings for me?