In My Head
So here's one of them, with a new addendum at the end. Enjoy.
The combination of nostalgia, intense curiosity, and sheer boredom can do a real number on you. I have recently started Googling or searching MySpace for old friends, acquaintances and even ex-boyfriends.
The results of my searches have frequently surprised me: a handful of old high school buddies are now doctors; some are still single, some have kids, some are divorced, and some happily married. A few of my old friends are scattered across the country, but most have remained in the Philadelphia area.
I can’t ever think of the people who have come and gone from my life without thinking of Brian L. We had attended the same high school, but he was a year behind me, and I didn’t really know him until after we’d both graduated. Although we only spent a few short months together during the summer between my freshman and sophomore year in college, I know I will never forget him. He made that big of an impression on me.
I was totally and shamelessly crazy about Brian. He was probably the closest thing to a soul mate that I’ve ever had. We understood each other perfectly. He was sensitive, quiet and somewhat shy but wickedly funny, smart as a whip, and incredibly, incredibly hot. Just the thought of him made me drool all over myself.
We spent most of the summer of 1997 together, getting stoned, going to the movies, to the diner, playing video games, and talking about everything under the sun. On the rare nights I was not hanging out with him, I couldn’t even sleep, so consumed by my thoughts of him was I. I spent those nights listening to my Walkman, wandering up and down the driveway of my parents’ house, chain-smoking and brooding. I just ACHED for him, the way that only lovesick 19 year-old girls can.
Early that summer, I had bought a small, green-bordered book entitled "Getting to Know You." It was a book of questions, such as "Name the three things in life that frighten you the most," or, "If you had only 24 hours left to live, what would you do?" Basically, these were the kind of questions that provided outstanding conversational fodder for the semi-intellectual stoners we were. I don’t know what prompted me show it to him, but as soon as I did, he was immediately fascinated by it, and expected me to share it with him.
And so we spent entire nights, often from midnight till sunrise, poring through this book together while lounging on sticky vinyl lawn chairs in his dimly-lit backyard. We took turns asking each other questions from the book and discussing our answers at length, absolutely hanging on each other’s answers, and only occasionally breaking for a cigarette or passionate, urgent kissing.
As the pitch-black sky slowly turned steely grey and pink, he’d walk me to my car, where we’d cling to each other like the last two people on earth, until I tore myself away from him and went home. I realized that I really loved him when one late night, around 3:30, I asked him (from the book), "Who is your best friend?" He looked at me and said softly, without a pause, "You are." SWOOOOOON!!!!! Yes, I loved him. I really did.
There were some problems, of course. The first big issue was that, although he and I did everything together, he refused to call me his "girlfriend." He said he did not want to put a label on our relationship. At the time, this bothered me immensely, though looking back as an adult, I don’t understand why. I guess I was overly concerned with labels back then.
Secondly, we had some, ahem, physiological difficulties, if you will. We spent hours kissing, touching, exploring—but when it came time for the act...poof! The moment was gone. I guess that, technically, we only ever consummated our relationship TWICE. That was it. But still, I loved him and it didn’t matter to me. Until I met David, who would be my last serious relationship before I met my husband.
David was just about the polar opposite of Brian. He rubbed hot and cold with me. Sometimes he’d show up with dozens of roses for me for no apparent reason; other times, he was grumpy and distant, tantalizingly uninterested in me. A real challenge. Oddly enough, in my youth, there was nothing I liked more than a challenge. The thing that drew me to him the most, though, was that David had no problem with the boyfriend/girlfriend labels. How I wished Brian had felt the same!
For a while, I somehow managed to date both Brian and David simultaneously, even going to see Rage Against the Machine and Wu-Tang Clan with both of them. Looking back, I’m sure they both knew what was up, but I was just enjoying myself at the time.
Then, a few weeks after the concert, David asked me to be his girlfriend. As in, exclusively. As in, there would be no other people for either of us. Honestly, I can’t remember much about those days (all that pot-smoking destroyed large portions of my memory, sadly), and I can’t recall how difficult it was for me to decide what to do about Brian.
If I knew then what I know now, I can say with unqualified certainty that I would have--and should have--stuck with Brian L. I do remember, however, that shortly after David asked me to date only him, Brian and I were hanging out, as usual--making out in my car, in fact--when I dropped the bomb on him. The conversation is hazy, but I can remember this much:
Me: “This probably isn’t the best time to bring this up…”
Him: “Hmmm?”
Me: “Well...David asked me to be his girlfriend...and to go out with only him...and I said yes.”
Him: “WHAT? WHY? How could you do this, without talking to me first?”
If my (admittedly spotty) memory serves me correctly, Brian was crushed and furious with me. I felt awful, but in my mind, David was giving me what I wanted. I wish that I could recall more from that incident, but that’s it. And I never saw him again after that night. It was August 1997.
Fast-forward to the present: I know exactly where Brian L. is today and what he’s doing with his life, thanks to mutual acquaintances and my penchant for internet detective work. He’s in the Air Force, active duty, and living in Texas. This cracks me up because I can’t imagine him in the military at all, based on the person I knew way back in the day. Of course, we all grow and change, so what the hell do I know? Also, he’s got a daughter who is preschool age, and I think he was recently remarried.
For a while, I toyed with the idea of emailing him, just to say hello and see how he’s doing. Then I decided to go for it. I doubt anything will come of it. He may not even respond to my email because he either doesn't remember me or thinks I'm some kind of nutty stalker. So I don’t expect to get a response from him at all.
Have any of you ever contacted someone (a friend or an ex) from your past? I want to know what happened! How did it turn out? Were you surprised? Disappointed? Happy?
Labels: childhood, concerts, memories, nostalgia, technology
