recoil
I thought of Sean the other day. I wish I could remember what brought him to mind. In high school he was among the dreamiest. Dark-layered-Vinny-Barbarino-hair, tall and slender with the widest of smiles and so freaking talented. He seemed to pick up any instrument and play flawlessly. How else to explain his being able to play trombone, drums and guitar - by ear? I wish that I had made out with him in high school. Well. To be honest I wish I had made out with everyone in high school. Seriously, I think I missed a lot of sloppy kissing that was going on.
Back then it didn’t matter what kind of car you drove. Even if you were driving the biggest beater on the block, the fact that you could load it up with a pile of sweaty kids made you golden. While my dad will be glad to hear that I was entirely too intimidated to follow through on much of my spit-swapping ambitions, I’m kinda bummed! We were all so SLIM!!! None of us were burdened with debt or questionably conservative politics yet. None of us had to worry about the Swarsky account or the car payment. Or how early we had to get up the next day or the fact that more than 3 beers makes us feel like shit. Ignorance is bliss and a beer bong, right? Did I just share too much?
So there was a certain amount of unrequited crush-ness going on for this Sean fellow. As often happens, I was the gal pal. Wheee! I know for a fact that my lovely husband has also been the male version of the gal pal. What would you call that? “Just friends” “I don’t like you in that way” “STOP TOUCHING ME!” – I joke, I never actually heard that (and of course Richard never did either), as a gal pal. Although there’s nothing quite like risking it all, going in for the kiss on the lips and realizing.... fucksticks.... he is SOOOooo not into me. It’s that amazing, little, TINY recoil.
Fortunately, being a complete wuss, and very seldom having risked it all I didn’t have to suffer that indignity very often, and never with this Sean fellow from whom I keep digressing. A few years ago I went back to my hometown to visit. And actually caught up with old friends there. They’ve all dispersed recently whether geographically, philosophically or through assery. But I used to do a better job of catching up with the homies and at least catching a beer with them. I hadn’t expected to see Sean, so was surprised to see him at the bar slash sub shop. And it wasn’t the physical changes that threw me, cause lord, we’ve all changed, (thanks for not pointing it out to me repeatedly), but his LACK of change in behavior. At some point during the evening, in front of 4 or 5 of our friends, apropos of nuthin’ he asks if I want to make out with him. ?????? What? Let me repeat that “Wanna make out? We should make out!” My other friends seemed less stunned than me, perhaps they’d seen him pull this stunt before, but I remember them acting as though nothing had happened. I guess that’s what you do, ignore awkward momentness. “Let’s make out!” When is that EVEN the right thing to say? When you’re 14? No, it’s still pretty awkward, even for a 14 year old. It’s just rather inexplicable.
It was a true life example of how what is appropriate as a teenager is not so charming in a 30-something year old. Do YOU have any examples?
Back then it didn’t matter what kind of car you drove. Even if you were driving the biggest beater on the block, the fact that you could load it up with a pile of sweaty kids made you golden. While my dad will be glad to hear that I was entirely too intimidated to follow through on much of my spit-swapping ambitions, I’m kinda bummed! We were all so SLIM!!! None of us were burdened with debt or questionably conservative politics yet. None of us had to worry about the Swarsky account or the car payment. Or how early we had to get up the next day or the fact that more than 3 beers makes us feel like shit. Ignorance is bliss and a beer bong, right? Did I just share too much?
So there was a certain amount of unrequited crush-ness going on for this Sean fellow. As often happens, I was the gal pal. Wheee! I know for a fact that my lovely husband has also been the male version of the gal pal. What would you call that? “Just friends” “I don’t like you in that way” “STOP TOUCHING ME!” – I joke, I never actually heard that (and of course Richard never did either), as a gal pal. Although there’s nothing quite like risking it all, going in for the kiss on the lips and realizing.... fucksticks.... he is SOOOooo not into me. It’s that amazing, little, TINY recoil.
Fortunately, being a complete wuss, and very seldom having risked it all I didn’t have to suffer that indignity very often, and never with this Sean fellow from whom I keep digressing. A few years ago I went back to my hometown to visit. And actually caught up with old friends there. They’ve all dispersed recently whether geographically, philosophically or through assery. But I used to do a better job of catching up with the homies and at least catching a beer with them. I hadn’t expected to see Sean, so was surprised to see him at the bar slash sub shop. And it wasn’t the physical changes that threw me, cause lord, we’ve all changed, (thanks for not pointing it out to me repeatedly), but his LACK of change in behavior. At some point during the evening, in front of 4 or 5 of our friends, apropos of nuthin’ he asks if I want to make out with him. ?????? What? Let me repeat that “Wanna make out? We should make out!” My other friends seemed less stunned than me, perhaps they’d seen him pull this stunt before, but I remember them acting as though nothing had happened. I guess that’s what you do, ignore awkward momentness. “Let’s make out!” When is that EVEN the right thing to say? When you’re 14? No, it’s still pretty awkward, even for a 14 year old. It’s just rather inexplicable.
It was a true life example of how what is appropriate as a teenager is not so charming in a 30-something year old. Do YOU have any examples?
