Flames, old and new
He looked like Fonzie and could play boogie-woogie on the piano. He was biracial. My parents were okay with that, but my "bff" was not. She had dated him briefly but when her parents learned his ethnicity, all hell broke loose. I wanted the relationship to work, but there were two factors getting in the way. First was the aforementioned bff, who nagged, complained and harangued me about it at every opportunity. I didn't care much what she thought, but it's hard to think with all that background noise.
The other problem was a much bigger one: Me. I was the quintessential nerd throughout elementary and middle school. A combination of "Carrie" and Ally Sheedy from The Breakfast Club. Just starting to crawl out of that mindset in senior year of high school when I met "Fonzie." He was just as insecure as I was, but he knew how to conceal it, whereas I did not. The more time I spent with him, the more conscious I became of the contrast, and all the nerdiness and klutziness came out in full force.
The most painful moment of our relationship was when he proposed a group bike trip to the beach (only 8 miles away; other kids did it all the time, but this was completely new to me). I didn't know how to make the gears work on my bike, though he kindly tried to fix that for me. So I plodded along in my slow way, half-wishing that he and his friends would just ride off and leave me behind, so I could slink home and go back to being myself. But of course they did no such thing. So we got to the beach, put our bikes up and locked them (I had my own lock), and proceeded to run around, play frisbee and some other good clean fun that I no longer remember in any detail. All I remember was, at some point, it was time to get our bikes, and I discovered that my key was missing. Yes, that's right, my bike lock was a padlock with a key, rather than a combination like everybody else had. And the key was missing. I knew I'd put it in my jacket somewhere, but there were holes in at least one of the pockets. No key. We spent a long time looking for that damn key, and finally I had to call my father, who presumably had a spare key. We waited, and he finally came. I don't remember whether he drove everybody home or just me or what. All I remember now is that I "ruined it for everybody." That's probably not true, of course. But to me it was unforgiveable. I couldn't bear the reality of being a ball and chain around this "cool" guy's ankle. Assuming he was just biding his time until he could break up with me, I broke up with him shortly after the bike trip. I wanted to stay on friendly terms, but of course he felt awkward, and kind of ducked me whenever we ran into each other. The aforementioned bff never missed an opportunity to tell me, "Mili, he's ignoring you. Why don't you fuhgeddaboudim." [This was New York, you see...].
Fortunately, this was senior year, so we didn't have to be reminded of each other for too much longer. By that time, both he and I had started dating other people. But that feeling of failure and unfinished business stayed with me for the three decades between then and now. I would occasionally look for him online, just to try and get a hint as to what he was up to, but it was like he'd vanished from the earth.
Then, a week or two ago, out of nowhere, another high school classmate and Facebook cohort sent me his name as a suggested friend. I remember being in the middle of typing something and just stopping, with my hands suspended above the keyboard. I clicked the name, and there was this guy who looked like he could have been my father. His hair, what there was left of it, was gray. He was heavy and kind of defeated looking.
It took a good hour of thinking and weighing before I could decide whether or not to friend him, but I did. There aren't many details to be had, but it sounds like there have been false starts here and there, and he's in a "second time around" type of relationship. I don't think life has been all that kind to him, but then again, all I have to go by is one photo and a few very short wall posts.
This is not one of those stories where we "get back together and pick up where we left off," because first of all, I'm very happily married. Second, I am NOT the person I was back in 1975. Who is?? What I feel for him now is nothing like boy-girl crushy stuff. It's more like a kinship. I guess it wouldn't be too far from the truth to say I feel sorry for him. He sounds more like he needs friends. I hope to be one, and I hope he'll comb Facebook and reconnect with a lot of other people from school. He was always a good guy and I'd like to see him do well.
[update] He's tripled the number of friends since he popped up on my page. Good!
The other problem was a much bigger one: Me. I was the quintessential nerd throughout elementary and middle school. A combination of "Carrie" and Ally Sheedy from The Breakfast Club. Just starting to crawl out of that mindset in senior year of high school when I met "Fonzie." He was just as insecure as I was, but he knew how to conceal it, whereas I did not. The more time I spent with him, the more conscious I became of the contrast, and all the nerdiness and klutziness came out in full force.
The most painful moment of our relationship was when he proposed a group bike trip to the beach (only 8 miles away; other kids did it all the time, but this was completely new to me). I didn't know how to make the gears work on my bike, though he kindly tried to fix that for me. So I plodded along in my slow way, half-wishing that he and his friends would just ride off and leave me behind, so I could slink home and go back to being myself. But of course they did no such thing. So we got to the beach, put our bikes up and locked them (I had my own lock), and proceeded to run around, play frisbee and some other good clean fun that I no longer remember in any detail. All I remember was, at some point, it was time to get our bikes, and I discovered that my key was missing. Yes, that's right, my bike lock was a padlock with a key, rather than a combination like everybody else had. And the key was missing. I knew I'd put it in my jacket somewhere, but there were holes in at least one of the pockets. No key. We spent a long time looking for that damn key, and finally I had to call my father, who presumably had a spare key. We waited, and he finally came. I don't remember whether he drove everybody home or just me or what. All I remember now is that I "ruined it for everybody." That's probably not true, of course. But to me it was unforgiveable. I couldn't bear the reality of being a ball and chain around this "cool" guy's ankle. Assuming he was just biding his time until he could break up with me, I broke up with him shortly after the bike trip. I wanted to stay on friendly terms, but of course he felt awkward, and kind of ducked me whenever we ran into each other. The aforementioned bff never missed an opportunity to tell me, "Mili, he's ignoring you. Why don't you fuhgeddaboudim." [This was New York, you see...].
Fortunately, this was senior year, so we didn't have to be reminded of each other for too much longer. By that time, both he and I had started dating other people. But that feeling of failure and unfinished business stayed with me for the three decades between then and now. I would occasionally look for him online, just to try and get a hint as to what he was up to, but it was like he'd vanished from the earth.
Then, a week or two ago, out of nowhere, another high school classmate and Facebook cohort sent me his name as a suggested friend. I remember being in the middle of typing something and just stopping, with my hands suspended above the keyboard. I clicked the name, and there was this guy who looked like he could have been my father. His hair, what there was left of it, was gray. He was heavy and kind of defeated looking.
It took a good hour of thinking and weighing before I could decide whether or not to friend him, but I did. There aren't many details to be had, but it sounds like there have been false starts here and there, and he's in a "second time around" type of relationship. I don't think life has been all that kind to him, but then again, all I have to go by is one photo and a few very short wall posts.
This is not one of those stories where we "get back together and pick up where we left off," because first of all, I'm very happily married. Second, I am NOT the person I was back in 1975. Who is?? What I feel for him now is nothing like boy-girl crushy stuff. It's more like a kinship. I guess it wouldn't be too far from the truth to say I feel sorry for him. He sounds more like he needs friends. I hope to be one, and I hope he'll comb Facebook and reconnect with a lot of other people from school. He was always a good guy and I'd like to see him do well.
[update] He's tripled the number of friends since he popped up on my page. Good!