Caterwauling

I got a message from my h.s. friend last night:

“What was the name of that guy who used to hang around you? The tall one with all the hair?”

That made me smile.

I told him, “That’s a story for the ages.” And I left it at that.

It occurred to me later how I have such a small box of high school keepsakes. But a case from college and a whole storage unit’s worth from my career. (Before we went digital.)

I think that’s pretty proportionate enough to represent the weight each era should have on your life.

But so funny to be taken back in time like that.

As it turns out, he and I have friends in common. The recently rediscovered friend and I, not the tall guy with the hair.

Well it’s more like I’m close with the male half of a couple, and he knows the guy’s new girlfriend.

I admit I was curious to know what he knows about this chick. Social media may not be painting as favorable a picture as she deserves.

He was neutral-to-kind in his reply. I of course am a master (mistress?) at reading between lines. And I find myself wishing I didn’t ask at all, since I want so much to like her. 

Reminds me of how my friend (the half of a couple) felt about my then-relationship with the tall guy with the hair.

Pinhead, he called him.

A most-accurate description, I must say. I ain’t (and was never) mad at that.

He never told me what to do with Pinhead. He simply made it clear I could do better. When and if I was ready to do just that.

I guess we all have to make our own decisions.

And to live with them.

At any and every age.

While the hoodworks kept us up all night in Braddock Beach, I was fortunate to reconnect with a long lost friend from high school between instances of peeling the cat off the ceiling. 

He stayed cute. And I might admit I got that weird wonderful feeling I did when I was a sophomore and he was a junior. Back when we worked on the school newspaper. Back before I was jaded as all hell about boys. 

(I still have his newspaper staff photo. I don’t even have mine!)

Anyway. I was reading a story he wrote about some girl who had bullied him in middle school. He ran into her at the grocery store and got up his nerve to say hello even though he was fighting everything in him to want to confront her and tell her how she hurt him. 

He wrote how he liked her then and how she publicly humiliated him. How it made him so hesitant. How many opportunities he missed because he was afraid the same thing would happen again.  

He was always sweet and kind to me. Funny what people are hiding that you would never know about if they didn’t mention it some 24 years and 11 months later. 

Anyway. I don’t think much about high school because of all the bad. But it is nice to remember some of the long-forgotten good. Also, typing with a cute boy isn’t a bad way to spend some time!

I have a ton of draft posts, since I can never really go away. (Also, I document everything.) But yeah, you never get rid of me. 

The quiet was good for me. I practiced it on social media and IRL too. 

One lesson: I never really noticed how people interrupt you when you talk. But when you say fewer words than normal, their behavior is pretty apparent. But don’t interrupt THEM, God forbid. 

Another lesson: When they aren’t stalking you and coming up with their own assessment of what’s in your head and heart (from a few hastily written words in a 35-second burst), they still subscribe to their own fantasy about you. I thought NOT giving them ammo would make them talk to me more. I was wrong. 

Another lesson: Going dark shows who your real friends are. I didn’t get a ton of emails and texts. But I got a few. And for those of you who are true friends but gave me my space, I love you too. I needed it and I need you guys too. 

A final lesson. I popped back up on social media and was happily welcomed back. By the usual suspects (love you all) and some pleasantly surprising ones. 

That got me to thinking. A lot. Because I’ve been 100% ready to go dark. From online, from where I am, from maybe life in general. All in hopes of just never having to deal with terrible people again. Two in particular. 

And I kind of got it that these twerps don’t define me. Yes they can and do poke holes in the occasional balloons of joy.  Karma never seems to catch up with them because they think they are great and apparently the universe listens. 

But I worked very hard to build all my relationships. No need to sacrifice any of them to run away from other ones. 

If I don’t force myself every day to coexist with crazy, well, I’m only giving up the things I do love that might or might not exist otherwise. 

I’ll leave it vague like that. But you get the idea. 

Anyway. Life is good right now. And I will take it. 

After all, I haven’t worn this size in seven years. If that isn’t worth celebrating on this Independence Day, then I don’t know what is.