Thanks to the wonder that is the Internet, I recently reconnected with my high school band-mate and former love interest Steve. When I was 17, I thought he was the cat's meow. Through Linkedin, I came across his profile.He still lives within 10 miles of his childhood home. I always knew he was out there, thanks to mutual friends, but after 25 years, I figured it was time to get back in touch.
The first time we spoke by phone we spent an hour talking. I promised the next time I was in Boston I would call. So that day came yesterday and we met up for drinks at a martini bar. "Martinis"? he mocked me, "who are you, Thurston Howell the Third?" "Don't worry, I'm sure they 'll have whatever swill you usually drink," I replied.
Let me cut to the chase and tell you he is married and this was not a date. He walked into the bar and recognized me immediately. "You haven't changed a bit," he said. He was still recognizable but I can't say he hadn't changed. He had gone gray. And at least partially bald. And either I got taller or he shrunk. Either that or I liked him so much I overlooked (ha!) the height difference.
He showed me a photo of his 15 year old son who looked remarkably like the photo you see above. That makes sense since Steve is about 18 in this shot.
We had a lot of fun as teenagers. But I blame him for about 50% of my neurosis with men. He was the classic "come here/go away" kind of guy. He slept with me and then never called me back. He broke my heart and didn't care. He took up with one of my girlfriends. He took me for granted and when I met my future husband I moved in with him almost immediately, although I really wished I could just get another chance with Steve.
So last night, after a few drinks, I took the opportunity to tell him something to that effect. But it was like scolding a cartoon character. He was barely real. I told him how much I had lusted after him back in high school and how disappointed I was that he never really reciprocated. "I didn't have anything for anyone at that stage of my life," he shared. "I'm sorry."
He's been married for 18 years. He has a son and a wife and plays in a band on weekends. He's still very funny. And short. We talked for hours. It was like 1982 again. He was an intimate stranger. I don't know him yet I knoww the color of his mother's kitchen chairs from 25 years ago (bright yellow). I know his favorite song from high school and what kind of guitar amp he owned then. He remembers all my siblings' names and the dress I wore to graduation.
It was like "Endless Sunshine of a Spotless Mind." He told me stories I didn't really remember. "Remember the time I took you out for your birthday with your mother and father? I gave you flowers. We went out to Pier 4 in Boston. I bought you a lobster. You looked like Holly Hobby on blotter acid." I don't remember but he promises me he has photos and will send them to me. I think it's a planted memory. I have no recollection of his ever meeting my parents, let alone going out to dinner with us. I was never in a legitimate relationship with him. Sound familiar PAL?
He has sent me about 20 emails and text messages since I drove home after our dinner last night. How can he not be thinking what might have been. Via email, he asked if I remember a Grateful Dead concert we went to at the Hartford Civic Center circa 1984. "I remember, I said, " because we drove home after the show, about 3 hours, and stayed at your parents house. No one was home. You had me sleep in your little sister's room. I was crushed that you didn't want to sleep with me."
His memory is different. An older sibling was home. She interfered. She ruined our plans. It doesn't matter. The damage is done. The guy I had a crush on didn't want me. 25 years later, I'm still trying to figure out why.
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