From the upcoming book, Passion to the Third Degree. Originally published in 2007.
I haven’t thought of that boy in years.
I knew him in college, considered him a friend. I never had any romantic inclinations toward him, but I was vaguely aware that he certainly had them for me. I was either mostly oblivious or ignored them—I’m not sure which.
He never did anything to act on his desires though, and I was already involved with the boy I married. Plenty of my friends had the hots for this guy, even though he never had a girlfriend and we couldn’t understand why not.
And there was that one time when he stripped COMPLETELY in front of my roomie and me, one night in my apartment, and asked us as female “friends” what was wrong with him physically that he couldn’t get a girlfriend. Who knows? Maybe he meant me.
My eyes must have been the size of saucers because my roomie and I did a double-take of his full monty, jerked our heads up to see each other’s response, and then both ran laughing maniacally into other rooms. When we finally calmed down and returned, the poor boy was sitting there, devastated by our reaction. It took a while before we were able to (fan, fan, fan) explain that there was NOTHING wrong with him physically. Omigod. Nothing.
Neighhhhhhhhhhhheeheehee.
We all stayed friends, to varying degrees, through college. I graduated a few years ahead of him and left town. Moved around a little but never heard from him again after that. Until….
He called my parents’ home on the day of my wedding. I don’t remember now if it was just before—after I’d gone to the wedding location—or during the wedding. Someone at the house answered the phone and took a message. I didn’t know until much later that he’d called.
He hadn’t known about the wedding, or that his call was so ill-timed. He didn’t leave a number, just a message to say he’d called.
I never heard from him again.
Sometimes I wonder what it was he’d planned to say to me and if it would have made any difference in the path I took with my life.
Leave a Reply