The One That Got Away

I am officially hooked on FB and have re-connected with various BFFs from my past life. It’s fun and funny, and strangely empowering. You get that “fifteen minutes of fame” rush every time you make a mundane comment and half a dozen people weigh in on it. Suddenly, you’re the EF Hutton of cyberspace. My issue is that unlike many who have connected with old flames via social networking, I have not found a single former squeeze. I recently posted my frustration on my wall – I mean, where are these guys?

Last summer I attended my 30-year high school reunion and had an absolute blast. There’s a certain comfort level that comes with age – you no longer have to prove anything and can just relax and enjoy catching up with people who were largely responsible for the person you’ve become. I laughed and shared family pics with friends who knew me when – but every now and then I found myself looking over my shoulder for a face I’m not sure I’d recognize. In my mind and in my heart, he’s frozen in time, forever 19 and the one that got away.

Almost everyone has someone who haunts the high school hallways of their past. It could be an unrequited love, a first crush, love or heartbreak. Mine was most if not all of those – a boy who stole my innocence and my trust, so much so that over 30 years later I ponder the question “What if?”

Let me pause here to say I love my husband. Really. My online search has nothing to do with wanting to reignite some fantasy old flame; that would truly be a bridge to nowhere. No, it’s more about trying to understand the real nature of love and its ability to linger long after a relationship dies. And it’s a desire to merge fantasy with reality; because this boy in my memory is not 19. He’s nearly 51, his lean teenage body undoubtedly gone soft around the middle, the hair I tangled my fingers through grown thin and frosted with gray. He is married or divorced. He is a father, possibly a grandfather. Like me, he’s celebrated successes and setbacks. And I realize (though I find it hard to believe) he may not even remember me.

The lesson here, if you believe things happen or don’t for a reason, is that some things from your past are better left to memory.

I’ll let you know if I find him.