Days Gone By

This weekend I will be returning to my hometown to celebrate the 25th anniversary of my high school graduation. It’s with a nostalgic approach that I tell the following story of days gone by. I’ve written and re-written an introduction to this story numerous times today, but I keep straying too far from the point, so I’m just going to skip the intro and just delve right in.

During the summer between my junior and senior year of high school… wait… I need to back up a little farther…

When I was in high school, I noticed a lot of girls. Yeah, that’s natural, because, after all, I was a teenage boy. So of course I was going to notice a lot of girls. But I’m thinking of one girl in particular here. She was a year older than me... she had wonderful, waist-length, jet-black hair... a wonderful smile, even with braces... In short, she was beautiful. Though she had caught my eye on many occasions, I figured that we were worlds apart, and that I’d never have a chance with her. Somehow though, the planets aligned, and we met. I don’t recall when, where or how, but a cast party keeps coming to mind.

Knowing that was probably my one and only chance, I seized the opportunity and struck up a conversation with her. Again, I can’t remember what we discussed, but things must have gone well, because next thing I knew, we were dating. I was completely smitten with this young woman, and looking back it seems that I spent virtually every waking moment consumed with her. It seems that we were constantly together. When we weren’t together, I was looking forward to our next meeting. I was obsessed with her – in that teenage crush sort of way, not that creepy stalker way.

During the next couple of months, our mutual affection became more physical, though we never “went all the way.” Believe me though, I tried! I remember telling her that I didn’t kiss and tell. That was technically true, because I didn’t tell my friends per se, but I did have two friends in whom I confided enough vague detail that they were able to fill in the blanks.

Late that summer, I went on a family vacation. I didn’t want to go, because I couldn’t bear being away from her. But despite my longing for this girl, I met someone while I was on that vacation. I never got physical with the girl I met on my vacation, but the emotional connection was real enough for me to question the relationship I had with the girl back home. I came to believe that I had a crush on the girl back home, knew that I couldn’t carry it on any longer, and decided to end it after the vacation.

Wanting to say things as eloquently as possible, I wrote her a Dear Jane letter. Looking back, that was a shitty thing to do. But in my own defense, I had planned to at least deliver it in person and stand there while she read it. I stopped by her house many times during that day, but each time I knocked, there was no answer. Eventually, I lost my courage, and just left the note.

I was at a birthday party some time later… maybe later that week… and a couple of guys came up to me. One was one of the two friends I mentioned earlier… the other was a dude I had never met. They asked if they could chat with me in private. They took me aside and they both hit me… one in the jaw, the other in the gut. They said it was a message from the girl I’d left. They also told me that she wanted to talk to me, immediately… and further informed me that if I didn’t leave, right then and there, that they would find me and kick my ass.

I left the party and met with the girl. It was her and me, in public, surrounded by her friends, as she screamed and cried, and called me every name in the book. At the time, part of me felt bad for her. For the most part, I just wanted it to be over.

I don’t remember seeing her after that. In time, it all became a memory… the romance… the break-up… all of it, faded into the hazy, distant past. But every now and then, that summer comes back with a vengeance. And looking through the eyes of one who is much older, and a little bit wiser, the thing that re-surfaces most is a twinge of regret. Not over the relationship… not over having dated her… and not even at the public berating. No, what I regret is that I didn’t have the balls to look her in the eye, and actually say that I was breaking up with her. She was a good person who treated me very well. She deserved at least the courtesy of a face-to-face break-up.