One That Got Away

Today's post came about because I ran across a stash of old letters and photos from storage.  I've changed her name to protect her identity, but I'm sure that some of my high school friends will know who I'm talking about.

Her name is Deborah.  I met her my sophomore year in high school.  How we met isn't really important to the story, but we quickly became friends.  We spent hours on the phone.  We hung out all the time.  Throughout high school, I always wanted more, but she was either oblivious to, or wanted to spare my feelings; and I never had the nerve to just come out and tell her.  It was something straight out of a movie.

After I graduated high school, I enlisted in the Marine Corps, and we kept in touch... the occasional phone call... the sporadic letter... a visit or two when I went home on leave.  I kept in touch because I still wanted more.  In 1990, I was deployed to the Persian Gulf for Desert Storm.  While I was there, we started writing each other quite regularly.  My feelings for her grew even stronger, and I had a hunch that she was beginning to feel the same way.

I still remember the first time she said "I love you."  I called her one night while I was on liberty during Desert Storm.  It was a dream come true, but so unexpected that I actually laughed and asked "What did you say," in an incredulous voice?  Instantly, I realized what I had done, and quickly explained that I had been waiting for years to hear her say those words.  I was giddy for days after that.

When I returned to the states, I went home on leave, not to see my family, but to see Deborah.  I'm sure I spent about half of my time with my family, but being with her was the only part I remember about that trip home.  For months, I was on cloud nine, calling her at least once per week.  I couldn't bear being separated from her, so I flew her out to see me.

Eventually though, things changed, like they always do.  The distance became a strain.  We started talking less often, and when we did talk, we frequently ended up arguing.  The disagreements were all pretty stupid, but invariably about the same thing -- politics.  She was majoring in political science, so it kind of makes sense.  To make this portion of the story shorter, she was sure that I was a right-wing nut job, and I was convinced that she was a tree-hugging liberal.  I was right because I had lived in the real world, while she was parroting her ivory-tower college professor's views.  She was right because my views came from an uneducated point of view.

For the last couple of months, we were together in name only.  We didn't speak.  We didn't write.  I went home for over Christmas, and knew that it had to end.  I called her, and we agreed to meet at a local bar...

"What do you want to do," she asked as we sat down over a pitcher of beer?

I want to end it.  I want out. I thought.  Instead, I meekly asked "I don't know, what do you want to do?"

"I want to call it off," she stated bluntly.

"Oh thank God," I responded, a little too quickly, with an audible sigh of relief in my voice.  I managed to bookend that relationship by putting my foot in my mouth.  We finished our pitcher of beer almost wordlessly and went our separate ways.  There wasn't much to say.

Less than a year later, I was married, had became a father, and was honorably discharged from the Marine Corps.  Deborah and I went through the motions of staying in touch. I called her every now and then.  She sent the occasional greeting card.  We did have a couple of serious conversations about where we went wrong.  We both acknowledged being a bit pig-headed in our younger days.  We both said that we'd come a bit closer to the center of the political spectrum over time.  For quite a while, I was afraid that I'd broken her heart, but she set me straight and said that in the end, she really didn't care that much; she just wanted it to be over.  I was glad that she wasn't bitter, but I'll admit that her statement was a bit of a blow to my ego.

I haven't heard from Deborah for years, but I think about her often.  She went on to get a law degree and become a judge.  I've reached out to her a couple of times.  We're friends on Facebook, but that's about it.  She rarely posts on Facebook and hasn't answered my private messages.  We don't have any mutual friends anymore.  That's okay though.  I have neither the need nor the desire to go back in time and try things over again.  After all, we've all got  that "one who got away."  (I've actually got two, but the second is a story for another day.)  The fact is, I am in love with my wife, and I would never consider straying from her.  A do-over would mean that I wouldn't have my wife and kids, and I couldn't imagine a life without them.  I do, however, deeply miss the friendship we had.  She is someone who truly interested me, and who seemed truly interested in me.