Tell me one thing

I picked my friend David out of a crowd of hundreds; I knew he was one of us, whatever the us may be defined as, whether it be chemistry, familiarity, there is some key; a Tell if you're Mamet, that separates an individual and brings them to the forefront of a crowd of faces.
David was taking a freshman placement test the summer I was an advisor and had met another like minded friend. I turned to this friend and said, I like that guy, meaning David. He ended up being one of my closest friends until he died in 1996 and I still think about him all the time.
My best friend from high school, my old boyfriends, husband, they each had a defining moment of which they became who they are to me. These events stand out in my flawed memory bank and I could recreate them with some accuracy if so compelled. It's been awhile since that phenom has occurred, perhaps like with taste buds, those sensual experiences are tempered with age, I know that with every day, with every person that walks into the library whose odor does not precede them, I expect that they might be someone who in turn will become more than this.
With Eamon, whom I'd known for a couple of years, the bookmark took place at the California border crossing with Mexico. I had a station wagon full of men to prove my language skills to who were visiting me. So, we stopped at the border before I could do that and I had to go to the bathroom which was a eight lane walk. He volunteered to go with me; and the impression was made, though I didn't even know it until later, which in itself is part of that process of something completely out of our conscious evaluation. It's just stored away until the right time or even until your old and have an idle moment and apparently have little better to think about then the olden days.