I wrote this about six months ago and it was posted on my “first” blog. I’m pretty sure that no one I don’t “know about” has followed from there to here, so I’m going to go ahead and post it up again. It’s about my first love and just how sad it is to never take a chance.
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I was in the same classroom with Miss V from the second grade until we graduated together from academy. Eleven years. She basically encapsulates my childhood and the journey to whatever was supposed to be beyond.
Assuming 40 weeks in a school year, at least eight hours a day, and add in time for Pathfinders camp-outs, church events, and the various non-school things we did together; I’d guesstimate that we spent about 20,000 hours together over the course of our lives. Of that, I hated her for roughly 10 hours; and I was completely in love with her for every minute of the remaining 19,990.
Number of times we talked on the phone: I’d guess over 100
Number of times we rode the ski-lift together: more than I can count
Number of times we “held hands” while ice skating: 8 (I only know this because I recently found one of my childhood journals)
Number of times we “officially” dated: 0
Number of times we kissed: 0
Number of times I saw her undressed: 2; number of times she knew: 0 (maybe 1, I’m not completely clear on all the details of the second time. I might have been “supposed” to see her that time, we were about thirteen…I’ll probably never know.)
Number of times she wrapped her arms around me in a swimming pool, grazed my neck with her lips and let me slide my hand under the “fun” part of her bikini bottoms: 1; age of participants: 18; number of significant-other’s that were CLEARLY cheated on during that event: 2
Moments of regret that I touched her while dating someone else: a few, but they’re fading every day.
Minutes of regret that we never really talked about how we felt about each other: exactly 7,058,880 and counting.
There are so many memories about Miss V that trying to explain everything starts to whorl together in some kind of mental tornado of images and sounds and tastes and smells…and then her face, smiling at me like it did as a thirteen-year-old girl washes over everything. For a moment, I’m back to being that skinny, unconfident outsider I always felt like as a kid. And I’m comfortable, because we were always outsiders together.
In the summer before the second grade, my parents completed the process of moving me away from my friends and a school where I was comfortable in a class of dozens spread out into several classrooms; and off to a tiny little outpost of humanity and a school where I was one of six kids in my grade. There were three grades to a classroom…so my overall class size was about twenty, but my direct peer group was six kids. Three boys and three girls.
I will never forget the first day of school, the cliques had already been established, and I wasn’t a part of them. And let’s be honest, I didn’t want to be there, and they didn’t want me there because I didn’t want to be there…ah, vicious circles, aren’t they fun. I was the outsider. I didn’t fit in.
I didn’t fit in at all. I ate meat, I watched movies, my parents had cable and let me watch HBO, I was allowed to read fantasy stories (the teacher confiscated my copy of “The Black Cauldron” because it was EVIL!!!). I was WEIRD. Because I was different.
At lunch on the second day of school I opened my brown paper bag and discovered I had three Oreo cookies. REAL Oreo cookies, not the fake sunshine versions that weren’t made with lard. Miss V was sitting at the desk next to me, she took one look and asked if she “could have an Oreo.” There was an audible gasp in the room. Real Oreo’s were evil. NO ONE should eat real Oreos! They’re MADE WITH LARD!!! (another classmate actually said that out loud). I reluctantly gave her one, waiting for her to use it to make fun of me. She smiled at me and said “thanks,” and then turned back to her friends and kept talking like nothing was out of the ordinary. She ate the Oreo. I loved her from that moment on.
As time went on, things got better. I made friends, I found my place, I tried to become a normal part of the school/group/place I was in; but I never quite made it. I was never the “best friend,” I was never completely at ease, I was never totally a part of the clique. I never felt just like everyone else. I always felt just a little bit like an outsider.
It would be many years before I realized that half of the people in that room felt the same way. Like something was off, like the picture was just a little bit crooked. But I knew instinctively that Miss V shared that feeling with me. We didn’t talk about it for another twenty years, but from that first day, it bound us just a little bit together. Just a little.
The two of us were competitive. VERY competitive. If you could compete at it, we did. If you couldn’t compete at it, we still found a way. We always pushed each other, if not physically then figuratively. There were people who thought we hated each other because we never let up.
Only once did it ever cross the line from pushing to hurting; and though it tares me up, I was the one that hurt her. In the fourth grade girls are very sensitive to anything that might draw attention to ANYTHING about their bodies or their physical cycles. Using that knowledge I said one of the things I regret most in my life.
In small classrooms with few students, collective punishment is probably pretty common. In this case conflict that had cropped up between “the boys” and “the girls” had spilled over into some heated exchanges between several classmates during recess and the ultimate resolution was to sit all of us down in our desks and have us talk it out. There were only six of us after all.
The teacher left the room and instantly the arguments resumed. I have NO idea what we were arguing about. Trivial couldn’t possibly begin to describe it. All I know is that the two sharpest tongues in the room went into combat like a pair of fencers…mine and Miss V. I remember she told me that if I was “going to be a stupid child” that I “should just shut up.” To which I replied calmly that she should “shut up and take a Midol.” The guys both gave me a hearty “YEAH”…as though congratulating me on the power of my counter attack. Miss V recoiled like I had physically hit her, and then broke down into sobs and fled the room.
For the record, I was pretty hazy on what a Midol was actually USED for, but that wouldn’t have been any consolation to a young girl who had just had her first menstruation start the day before. Obviously, I didn’t know that…
I’d say it was about a month before she spoke to me again. I never got a chance to apologize, even though I felt terrible about it. It wasn’t until the first ski-day of the year that things started going back to normal. I rode up in the car with her, and by the time we got to the lodge, things were better. We competed on the slopes, and we rode the chairlift together all afternoon. We were back to pushing each other, and helping the other one up again.
A couple of years later she was doing children’s theater and she would call me after rehearsals. She told me they were doing “The Twelve Dancing Princesses” and I was excited because it was one of my favorite fairy tails from an old book my mom had given me. She wanted to know if it was any different from the story they were putting on, so I read it to her. Over the phone. As I’m writing this, I realize I have NO idea why I didn’t go see her perform, my parents certainly would have taken me…I was just too dumb to think of it I guess.
In the eighth grade I made another foolish comment that I would desperately like to take back. For whatever reason boys will pick on other boys about the girls they like. And no matter how much they like the girl, the boy will deny it. Why? I have NO idea. It was a small social circle, and maybe that was just exposing too much that was too personal…I don’t know.
I do know that after PE my friends were giving me a hard time about how much time I spent with Miss V, and teasing me that I liked her (which was painfully obvious to anyone) and for reasons I still can’t explain I said (with too much volume and intensity) “No I don’t! I like Emily you idiots!” Which was a lie. But since every single girl in our class heard it, I was pretty much stuck. I remember seeing the look in Miss V’s eyes as she walked out of the hallway where she’d heard me deny her. It still makes me physically sick, almost twenty years later.
Another thing we did together was Pathfinders. It’s a co-ed denominational version of Boyscouts with all of the expected issues of hauling a dozen boys and girls ranging in age from eight to fourteen out into the woods. Hazing, tent raiding, ghost stores, sneaking off into the woods together…all that stuff. Miss V’s mom was a leader and that meant she didn’t miss a campout, no matter how uncool it was to head off to the woods. Somehow we always ended up spending about ninety percent of the time walking off together talking and laughing and ignoring the rest of the world.
All those hours together, all those hours alone with her, and not once did I tell her how I felt about her. Not once did I just take her hand and look her in the eyes and tell her I liked her. I was always afraid I wasn’t good enough, afraid she’d tell me I was just a friend, just blah. That I was just the uncool, unattractive little boy I was afraid I was. She was the only one who would call me on my shit, and it scared me too much to tell her how special I thought she was, how beautiful I thought she was, how wonderful every word she shared with me was.
Towards the end of eight-grade four of us went to a youth-rally in Portland. It was a long drive and we were leaving early in the morning, so her mom (who was the chaperone) decided all of us should spend the night at her house and leave together in the morning. The four of us spent about eight hours sitting on Miss V’s bed talking silly, laughing and enjoying time together. I came within a hair’s breadth of telling her everything, but there were other people there…it was both heaven and hell at the same time…I wanted to tell her, but I was too scared to do it in front of our friends.
Later that weekend, she bought an ice-cream sandwich. Sitting next to me in the front of the truck, practically on my lap, she finished half of it…licking the end of the ice-cream out of the cookie…and then asked me if I wanted to finish it. As stupid as it sounds, it was as close to a kiss as I ever got from her. I could taste her lip gloss on the cookie, and I can still smell her hair in my face.
I started high-school a week late. It’s a long story, but lets just say that once again, I managed to be the outsider. The first person I saw on campus was Miss V. It was the first moment of relief in a long uphill climb. High school sucks. High school where you live on campus with the entire student body (of about two hundred), shower in front of every guy you know, eat institutional vegetarian food, and can’t have caffeine in any form is just BRUTAL.
No matter what might have passed between us in the past, our circle of friends wasn’t particularly close at first. But we did work together for four hours every morning. She was the Boy’s Dean’s secretary and I was the desk monitor. I sat about ten feet away from her and as there was NOTHING else to do, once again, we spent many hours talking. And a few fighting, but mostly it was pretty relaxed. I heard about her boyfriend, about her girlfriends, about life away from home…and I pined for her silently. I smiled, we talked, same as always.
Our Sophomore year she tried going to a public high school near her mom, and I moved on and tried not to think about her as much as I had the year before. I had a couple of girlfriends, an absolutely crazy roommate, a better haircut, and a chance to realize that “cool” was as subjective as everything else. I found my footing, ran for class president, started working for the radio station, drank a WHOLE LOT of shitty beer, and discovered that life is good.
I don’t remember exactly when she came back…I’d guess it was around Christmas, but it might have been sooner. Regardless, neither of us was the same person by the time she returned. I think I caught her eye a couple of times, but I never knew at the time.
My junior year I met the girl who I would eventually marry and have children with, Miss H. We started a long distance relationship and for an entire year I was happily “off the market” and writing letters and making multi-hour phone calls every night. So much of that year is caught up with her that nothing else really penetrates. I know Miss V was there, and a friend, but everything is washed out in my memories with Miss H.
As a senior Miss H joined me at academy. I’ll talk about all that in other posts…what is relevant here is the last week before graduation. The senior class takes a trip together for a long weekend. As a group we went to central Oregon and stayed at a resort. Six to a condo, we really had the run of the place.
The last evening of the trip about half of us were in the pool, and Miss H was off with her friends enjoying some girl time. I was against the wall of the pool with one my close friends when Miss V and her best friend swam up and joined us. My friend had always been interested in Miss V’s friend, and they paired off as best they could. Miss V and I began reminiscing about all the years together. We talked for about an hour, and at one point she put her arms around me. For balance or support or…whatever.
Our friends got cold and hopped out of the pool to head off for the Sauna. Miss V and I climbed out and went off to the empty hot tub. After a few minutes sitting next to each other she climbed up over me a few inches to look over the wall and see if anyone was watching us. As she slid back down against me she grazed her lips over my neck and intentionally straddled my hand as it was resting on my leg. She looked into my eyes as my hand slid under her bikini bottom. As I touched her, her eyes half closed and she began to lean towards me…and seconds later we heard the voice of one of the class sponsors and she slid away and sat down next to me.
I don’t write this part of our story to expose what was a really personal moment between us, but to highlight just how big of a dork I really was (and probably still am). The next day Miss H (who didn’t suspect ANYTHING was between Miss V and I) sat on the bus home with her best friend and I ended up sitting with Miss V. We shared buffalo jerky, a couple of Dr. Peppers, and talked the whole way home. We talked of old times, funny things we remembered from grade school and honestly, we were saying goodbye. We just didn’t know it. In a week we would graduate, and we didn’t know when we might see each other again. This was goodbye.
That night I gave Miss V a ride home. She asked if she could smoke and I said I didn’t care. I drove her back to her mom’s apartment and we stood outside for a few more minutes talking. Right at the end, I leaned in to kiss her, but she pulled back. I’ve never known why. I never had the strength to ask. The moment wasn’t right, and it didn’t happen. We were both dating other people. I never told her how I had always felt about her. I was still afraid I wasn’t good enough for her. Still afraid she’d reject me. And that was that. I will never forget the sound of the door closing behind her.
I saw her once, a year later. Miss H and I were on our Honeymoon at Disneyland and out of nowhere Miss V was calling our names. We stood and talked with her and her roommate for about ten minutes. When she found out it was our honeymoon she was clearly surprised. I was afraid she was going to say something about that moment in the pool…but she just smiled and politely found a reason for her and her friend to go.
As she walked away, I saw her give me a look…a look I hadn’t seen since the eighth grade. When I said I like Emily more than her.
Since then it’s been 7,058,900 minutes. And counting.
Sunshine | 11-Jun-08 at 5:51 am | Permalink
Wow… thank you for sharing. After reading this post , old or new, it hits home with the idea of… Never have regrets! Those “should of’s, would of’s could of’s can stay with you and scar you and never fade.” We all have moments like that when we say to ourselves, “Self, why in the hell didn’t you ____?” On Miss V’s defense, she never wanted to leave the comfort zone of your great friendship. Once you cross that line, it is hard to go back. I realized this when I started to date a male friend whom I considered one of my best friends. We were always there for eachother, the late phone calls, the endless talks, the knowledge in our hearts that we were there for eachother whenever needed. Everyone pushed for us to date, we were perfect for eachother, blah, blah, blah… and so we did and two monthes later he walked away. Not sure what and why things transpired the way they did, to this day but I do know he said in the past that it would kill him to know I couldn’t be part of his life some way , shape or form. We took a chance and now I am one friend less. It hurts but I cannot have regrets. I know we would of been great together because of the friendship, he got scared. Just go on knowing things happen for a reason. ( I hate when people tell me that but it is true. ) You have thememories and that built character inside of you. Thank you again for sharing.
Girly | 11-Jun-08 at 6:02 am | Permalink
Great post! Thank you for sharing.. very touching.
Taoist Biker | 11-Jun-08 at 6:15 am | Permalink
Reminds me of the cheesily beautiful Dan Fogelberg song “Same Old Lang Syne.” “Just for a moment I was back in school, and felt that old familiar pain…”
I had a few of those pined-away-right-next-to-her-but-a-thousand-miles-away gals, but not ONE like you clearly did. Exquisite torture, huh?
As teenagers, we guys do the STUPIDEST things in front of and/or to the gals we’re most thoroughly smitten with. I’ll never forget my best friend and I torturing the ever-loving hell out of this one girl in our science class in eighth grade. Two years later, one of our mutual friends dated her once and my friend was relating as we tooled along on our bicycles on the way home from shooting pool that the mutual friend said, “If you’re still interested, go for it.”
I stopped my bicycle in the middle of the road. “You wanted to date her?” “Yeah, but I never told YOU that.” I shook my head. “Yeah. Same here.”
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
dontdatethatdude | 11-Jun-08 at 6:38 am | Permalink
This is eye opening for me because it let’s me kind of understand why some men just don’t make a move. I always think it’s about me, but sometimes it’s about them being shy. I’m a hopeless romantic and all though out the story I was hoping you did re-connect and now I want you to go find her. Sappy, huh?
essaytch | 11-Jun-08 at 12:55 pm | Permalink
Dude….so, where is she now?
Dead Charming | 11-Jun-08 at 1:57 pm | Permalink
Where is she now? The last I knew she was in Nursing School and the owner of a Cowboy Bar (Think Coyote Ugly) in Kuna. I could find out exactly with about two phone calls. After all, my aunt was her aunt’s best friend/roommate in high school.
Why don’t I call her up right now? Because deep down inside I’m a scared kid who doesn’t want to be “just that weird boy” she grew up with.
Lara | 11-Jun-08 at 2:41 pm | Permalink
ack! the heartstrings, they’ve been pulled.
Kimberly | 11-Jun-08 at 4:36 pm | Permalink
I would die to be that memorable to someone, that years later they still think of me as the bees knees and write about me in their blog.
I loved it.
Allison | 11-Jun-08 at 5:15 pm | Permalink
Wow. This is pure reading splendor.
Why is it that in hindsight we can see things so clearly for how they really were back then? I’m sure a big part of it is the crippling insecurity that seems to come with youth. We don’t say things because we doubt ourselves. Or because we care too much what other people think.
maleesha | 11-Jun-08 at 6:35 pm | Permalink
Very good post. But do tell, what vegetarian Stepford did you have to move to? I want to read more about that hell.
Dead Charming | 11-Jun-08 at 7:03 pm | Permalink
Private, Seventh-Day Adventist Boarding Hell. I mean school! Seventh-Day Adventist Boarding SCHOOL…sorry, my bad.
And it’s like Stepford meets 19th Century victorian-mentality, tea-totaling, sexless, obscure-christian-fundamentalist, no-holding-hands-because-that-leads-to-dancing-which-we-ALL-KNOW-leads-to-unprotected-sexual-hedonism, conservative education.
What’s really sick is that on some levels my liberal little heart actually enjoyed it. In a sort of sick, masochistic kind of way.
Scomerican Girl | 12-Jun-08 at 2:16 pm | Permalink
Even though I’m pretty cynical most days when it comes to romance, I still love this story. I’m the same as most of the others, I so want for you to find her again and pick up where you left off! And what about regrets? If you still think about her and could so easily contact her again, why let your fears keep you from that? She may have been thinking about you this whole time too!
pseudonymblog | 12-Jun-08 at 3:53 pm | Permalink
Wow, that was a great post!!
Amy | 12-Jun-08 at 5:48 pm | Permalink
let me just tell you this darling, and hopefully it won’t get too long.
when my dad was 16, he met a girl from another town on a ski trip. he told her he was 18 (because she was) and they had a little high school romance, very innocent. (although he did tattoo “Vickie” on his forearm.)
upon graduation from high school, this girl started talking plans about growing up and getting married. she still did not know he was only sixteen. so what does a mature sixteen year old do?
bails…disappears…leaves her high and dry.
he married my mother when he was nineteen, but always wondered what happened to this other girl, and felt badly about it. he eventually covered the tattoo with a rose bearing the names of his three daughters.
fast forward thirty some years. my mother left him. he was beside himself as he hadn’t been on the market since he was a teenager. he may have been inexperienced, but he was also bold.
this other girl grew up in the milwaukee area, so he got a phone book and started leaving messages with everyone who shared her last name.
a few weeks went by, and he got a call back from her sister. she remembered him as well, so they were able to reconnect a little, and she promised to pass a message on that he was looking for her.
okay, this IS getting long, but keep reading.
girl finally calls him. they talk for hours and hours, catching up. bold father convinces her to let him take her to dinner, no pressure. he drives three hours north to where she lives for agreed upon dinner.
a year later, they were married. her family thinks it is a real-life fairy tale. my dad is her prince. and he now has a new tattoo that says “Victoria.”
so, even though you may think it’s too late…be bold. at least find out what she’s up to. it obviously still means a lot to you, and she may feel the same way.
Dead Charming | 12-Jun-08 at 6:18 pm | Permalink
Hummmm…not sure how to explain this.
I have actually seen Miss V once since my honeymoon with Miss H. It was our ten-year high school reunion. We talked for about two hours straight. Of course, Miss H was with me, our new daughter was in her arms, and I was NOWHERE near divorced…but I got to see her.
Why don’t I call her up right now? I guess a part of me just assumes that she’s happily “with” someone. Someone ELSE.
And a part of me doesn’t want to risk being the fool. I loved her utterly…but I did it silently. I never spoke those words to her, and I certainly never heard them from her.
I am willing to recognize my demons (see my “100 things” post) and confess them…but I’m not quite ready to confront them.
My divorce was utterly crippling for me emotionally. I’m very afraid of finding out my worst fears with her are true…that I’m just that weird boy she grew up with…and knowing that would simply be more than I could take at the moment.
Perhaps someday I will roll the dice. It’s my nature to risk rather than to hold, but I’m not quite ready to play the game yet.
Pammy Girl | 12-Jun-08 at 7:37 pm | Permalink
If you know how to get in touch with this women, then grow a pair and do it. She WON’T think you’re that weird kid she grew up with… she’ll be flattered that you remembered her.
Pammy Girl | 12-Jun-08 at 7:39 pm | Permalink
OK… that was a little harsh. But seriously, look her up.
Dead Charming | 12-Jun-08 at 8:11 pm | Permalink
No worries Pammy Girl, harsh among friends is just friendship with a slight push.
Taoist Biker | 13-Jun-08 at 5:39 am | Permalink
I think it’s wisdom to say “I’ll probably do it…but not yet.” In a situation like this, best to go in feeling like you can throw it all to the wind with abandon…difficult to do if there’s a nagging “can I survive a NO?” in the back of your mind.
Well, I suppose it’s hard to have that nagging feeling go away completely, but you know what I mean.
Sunshine | 13-Jun-08 at 10:25 am | Permalink
those should of’s , would of’s could of’s will come back and bite you in the ass!!!— if it hasn’t already. Really… what do you have to lose? just contact her… harmless dinner among friends…
Soapbox Diva | 13-Jun-08 at 12:36 pm | Permalink
Well, I’m not a friend….just a wanderer…..and this is the first post I have read. I have also become an appreciater of your writing style…..so I won’t be harsh. Or try not to be. I have been accused of having a ‘blunt manner of speaking.’ I loved the line, “I will never forget the sound of the door closing behind her.” I could hear the silence after I read it.
But hun….you ARE what YOU believe yourself to be, not anyone else. No one can define you, unless you buy into it and let them. I know you know that on some level. I agree with Taoist…..take your time, wait a while, let go of the weird boy persona….anywhere in your being. Live life in the meantime. Try new things. Stretch yourself. And when you do feel strong enough to throw caution to the wind, and track her down for the pure enjoyment of the moment…..with no caring one way or the other what the outcome will be…..that is when to make your move. Good luck grasshopper.
pseudonymblog | 15-Jun-08 at 8:38 am | Permalink
I had meant to tell you…the owner of our company was seperated about 2 years ago…after him and his wife seperated he looked up an old girlfriend from high school…turns out she’s been divorced for a while…they started up and email relationship and about 6 months ago she just moved from Ohio to Virginia to live with him…they’re crazily in love…it’s almost like they are teenagers again at 60.
Taoist Biker | 29-Aug-08 at 8:52 am | Permalink
I just wanted to stop and say that I was reading through some of your old writings to pick something to highlight, and I was again positively struck by the emotional power of this post. This is some magnificent writing, and it was gutsy of you to share it.