I can usually write a blahg in my head while I’m doing stuff around the house or while out and about. Thoughts and images float inside my head, spontaneously rearranging and combining to form paragraphs that I just need to type out. I messaged the subject of this blahg to ask if it was okay to write about him. He responded with “YES!!!!! Bout time” and gave me immediate and total writer’s block that lasted a week.

I wrote a blahg called The Ghosts of Crushes Past describing a few guys I dated or crossed paths with long enough for them to make an indelible impression on me, for better or for worse. I’ve forgotten some and I’ve never forgotten a few. This blahg revisits my favorite crush, one I’ve definitely never forgotten.

I have almost nothing but good memories of him. He was tall and thin and had a smile that melted my heart. I was smitten. In retrospect, I don’t even remember how long we “dated” because details have gotten fuzzy over the years. I use quotes because I wonder if we really did date or if I made it up to be more than it actually was in my little, delusional head. I met him when I was attending the local community college right out of high school. He was adorably sweet and would visit me at my on-campus job to chat between classes. He was ultra charming and I was ultra susceptible to his charms. However he may have viewed it, I thought it was the real thing. It wasn’t.

I was young and I thought I was falling in love with someone who felt the same way. He didn’t. I was heart-broken and I cried a lot but I walked away when I figured it out: no pleading, no negotiations, no ultimatums. As much as it hurt, I will always be proud of the strength I found in that moment of anguished clarity. It was a lesson I reused over and over as I continued to date guys who didn’t value me. I will forever be grateful to him for teaching me that, if I could walk away from him, I could walk away from anyone.

It is definitely not the worst heartache I’ve experienced in my 52 years — there are plenty of things worse than a silly breakup that will knock you on your ass — but, at the time, I was devastated. It was one of those pivotal points in a lifetime that tests your strength and resolve. Through the tears and hurt, I discovered that I was pretty tough and wouldn’t, for a single moment, take any shit from a guy – regardless of how much they meant to me.

No matter his crime, I never had any bad feelings towards him. I was more sad than anything but never had any animosity towards him. When I dumped the asshole I dated after Paris a mere 2 weeks before my 21st birthday, I was without a date and he was the one I turned to. I called him and asked if he’d take me out for my birthday. Without hesitation, he agreed and treated me as charmingly as ever for our final “date”.

We lost touch soon after. Many, many years later I was sorting a box of old letters I was purging and found a note I hadn’t looked at in decades. Weirdly, I instantly recognized the handwriting on the front before I even opened it. It was from him, written at the height of his charm. I read it, then folded the paper and put it back in the box.

I had lunch with my favorite crush last weekend. I looked into his unchanged eyes as he slid into the vinyl booth across from me and felt the DeLorean accelerating to 88 miles per hour. For a moment, I was keenly aware that he was looking at the 52 year old version of the young girl he bewitched and felt incredibly self conscious. He smiled and, in an instant, my insecurities vanished. For the next two and a half hours we shared the condensed versions of our lives over mediocre food and sodas.

He is different and exactly the same. I watched the facial expressions and mannerisms and heard the laugh I remember from decades ago while he described a life I know nothing about. We recounted shared memories and filled each other in on things that have happened since; including our spouses, children, job, hobbies, and, yes, politics.

Midway through lunch, the poor dude made the mistake of saying “I don’t even remember what happened between us.” I shouted “I REMEMBER!” and proceeded to him remind him exactly what he did to me.

I told him “You meant way more to me than I meant to you.” He didn’t have a response to that and I didn’t expect one. It was an undeniable truth then but it is a truth that means very little now because it simply ceased to matter in the same way — the passage of time tends to do that, thankfully.

The DeLorean skidded to an icy stop back in 2020 and I looked across the table at the 53 year old version of the guy who bewitched me and felt grateful for a friendship that has endured the test of time.

💋

The Ghosts of Crushes Past: https://avblahg.wordpress.com/2019/02/15/the-ghosts-of-crushes-past/