I’ve told a couple of stories from my past recently, one verbally to some friends and one in a blog comment. Both times, I received such a positive response that I thought I should write them up as blog posts. And that made me think that surely I have more stories from my past that would be entertaining to at least a few souls.
So I’m embarking on my first ever “feature” on this blog. We’ll see how long it lasts. Taking a page from Instagram and Facebook, each Thursday, I hope to post a story from an earlier time period in my life for “Throwback Thursday.” As they are stories I remember well, I suppose they very definitely qualify as “bright spots” in my life if their memory is still shining bright after all these years.
My husband and I were High School Sweethearts. We met somewhere around the start of our Junior year. His best friend had a crush on me that summer and talked about me in such a way that my future husband was fascinated and interested in meeting me. The start of the school year saw me dating his best friend and he dating mine.
One day, my best friend and I met up with him to go to a party. He had spent the day polishing his not-yet-operational-again ’57 Chevy with a bottle of Windex to show it off. We drove up. He stood proudly by his car and asked what we thought. I was doing my best snotty teenage girl imitation and told him I thought it was ugly. He was crestfallen.
Within a couple of years, I’d be using a manual to rebuild the master cylinder of that “ugly” car in the band room after school. I’d ride in it to prom. I’d later retrieve him from it when it threw a rod through the oil pan on our wedding night. I’d chastise him for driving it in a torrential rain storm that swept it off the road while we were in college. I’d willingly have it towed to Texas when we moved. It’s still sitting in the backyard now, waiting for our time, money, and interest to revive it.
Anyway, the car was not operational at the time and he was not 16. My best friend was to drive us to the party. I very snottily told him that I was riding in the front; he could sit in the back. We stopped at an ATM and my friend and I went in to get some cash.
When I came out, he was sitting in the backseat with his head leaned all the way back so he could gaze out the back window.
“What are you doing?!” I asked.
“Looking at the clouds…” he said in a drawn-out, dreamy voice. I remember very distinctly thinking that he wasn’t a very good match for my friend and that he would be a better match for me.
There was no motivation to steal him. There was no emotion, no burning heart thumping in my chest, no desire. Just an observation of fact. I remember nothing of the party or anything else we did that day. But I remember that young man gazing out the back of that window and making that comment like it was yesterday.
Within a couple of months, she had dumped him and his best friend had dumped me. He had migrated through another girlfriend (who he confided to me he thought he could marry – I still don’t let him forget that remark). While he was with that girl, I was growing to realize just how much I liked him. Again, clear as day, I can remember my reaction to his writing that he wanted to marry her in the note we were passing back and forth at a Latin Club event. This time, I felt the burning feeling in my chest and a profound sense of disappointment. That feeling of loss was followed immediately by a firm decision that I wasn’t going to react. That I really liked this guy and if I couldn’t be his girlfriend, I certainly wanted to be his friend.
She dumped him a week later. And we began to date a month or two after that – after a drawn-out note-passing courtship that we were enjoying but was driving my friends batty. And I became the first girl in his life to not dump him. I never have and I never will.
Interestingly, this wasn’t the story I set out to tell. I set out to tell the story that got my friends smiling last night. I was just trying to set the stage when this story fell out instead. Funny how that works. Well, maybe the other one will come next week.