20 years ago . . . (Well, 18)
A friend and I were recenly chatting when we agreed that we've reached the point in our lives where we now catch ourselves using the phrase, "Twenty years ago" without any exaggeration. And that kinda sucks. Sure, it's part of life, but things from 20 years ago start taking a different shape in your memory. You begin wondering how much of the memory has faded. If anything, it illustrates the importance of jounaling. But even as adamant as I was about recording my own personal history, much of it has fallen victim to being stuffed in lost boxes in the attic, some lost during moves, some destroyed in drunken rages or break-ups.
On Friday came a random e-mail from someone on classmates. It was one of those e-mails asking how you're doing, what you're up to these days, etc. When it came through on my e-mail, I didn't have time to follow-up on it. In fact, I couldn't even remember the person who sent it. The name seemed vagueley familiar, but it wasn't connecting.
Just recently I finally remembered who it was: my date for senior year prom.
Not quite 20 years ago in this case, but a little over 18. Still too long.
It wasn't a memorable prom. A week before a graduation that was also nothing memorable, they perfectly capped off my senior year -- probably the least eventful or favorite of my high school years.
In my sophomore year, I "made it in" by getting asked to be the date of a junior. A total bitch, but at the time still a social accomplishment. Junior year I showed up with the hottest date of the entire prom. In the social strata that is high school, a coupe de gras for the social elite who assumed I gave a shit about what they thought. And then, senior year prom.
I kinda dug her in a weird sort of way. She was a born-again type, but the type that seemed to do it as more for a social connection with others than anything else. Very smart, very articulate. But with parents that were total fucking white trash and complete idiots. And I don't mean white trash as in live in a trailer, but white trash as in completely vulgar, uneducated, toothless, etc. Night and day difference.
For prom her crazy ass parents gave her a curfew of midnight. That includes a solid 45-minute ride back to her house. They wer overprotective. They had no need, as her legs were locked together more securely tan are the stone tablets in the ark of the covenant.
I think that was our last date. It wasn't working for me. I was off to college in a few months and knew I couldn't go on to a drunken and horny college campus with any weight from her. She's probably the one person from my past who, as bad as it sounds, I never cared to follow-up on. Never wondered where she ended up or what she's doing today.
Turns out, however, that after high school she went to a Christian college and got a degree in Christian Family Counseling. Good thing we parted ways sooner rather than later.
I might respond, but if I do it's more to get her reaction to the varied paths we took. I doubt if the college experience filled with casual and meaningless sex, nightly drinking and occasional drug use was the same she had while studing Christian family counseling. (Although, since a few college encounters included born-agains who forgot about Jesus's morals after a few drinks, I could be wrong).
But, I might just let it go. Might just act like I never got the mail, and she'll never know. It'll probably be for the better for her anyway. My reappearnce into the lives of past acquaintances is often a small dose of toxicity.
On Friday came a random e-mail from someone on classmates. It was one of those e-mails asking how you're doing, what you're up to these days, etc. When it came through on my e-mail, I didn't have time to follow-up on it. In fact, I couldn't even remember the person who sent it. The name seemed vagueley familiar, but it wasn't connecting.
Just recently I finally remembered who it was: my date for senior year prom.
Not quite 20 years ago in this case, but a little over 18. Still too long.
It wasn't a memorable prom. A week before a graduation that was also nothing memorable, they perfectly capped off my senior year -- probably the least eventful or favorite of my high school years.
In my sophomore year, I "made it in" by getting asked to be the date of a junior. A total bitch, but at the time still a social accomplishment. Junior year I showed up with the hottest date of the entire prom. In the social strata that is high school, a coupe de gras for the social elite who assumed I gave a shit about what they thought. And then, senior year prom.
I kinda dug her in a weird sort of way. She was a born-again type, but the type that seemed to do it as more for a social connection with others than anything else. Very smart, very articulate. But with parents that were total fucking white trash and complete idiots. And I don't mean white trash as in live in a trailer, but white trash as in completely vulgar, uneducated, toothless, etc. Night and day difference.
For prom her crazy ass parents gave her a curfew of midnight. That includes a solid 45-minute ride back to her house. They wer overprotective. They had no need, as her legs were locked together more securely tan are the stone tablets in the ark of the covenant.
I think that was our last date. It wasn't working for me. I was off to college in a few months and knew I couldn't go on to a drunken and horny college campus with any weight from her. She's probably the one person from my past who, as bad as it sounds, I never cared to follow-up on. Never wondered where she ended up or what she's doing today.
Turns out, however, that after high school she went to a Christian college and got a degree in Christian Family Counseling. Good thing we parted ways sooner rather than later.
I might respond, but if I do it's more to get her reaction to the varied paths we took. I doubt if the college experience filled with casual and meaningless sex, nightly drinking and occasional drug use was the same she had while studing Christian family counseling. (Although, since a few college encounters included born-agains who forgot about Jesus's morals after a few drinks, I could be wrong).
But, I might just let it go. Might just act like I never got the mail, and she'll never know. It'll probably be for the better for her anyway. My reappearnce into the lives of past acquaintances is often a small dose of toxicity.