The Boy on the Road

It's nearly midnight as we approached home after a day long road trip.  We have me to thank for the long day as I wanted to go home rather than stay in another hotel.  Flying along the road we catch a glimpse of a person,  a boy, maybe 13 yrs old.  He's walking along the shoulder, arms tucked inside his t-shirt,  no shoes.

My husband pulls over with barely a word.  Just when I think he's the most selfish person on the planet, he proves he is so far from it.  He gets out to go speak with the boy.  I sit in the car, cell poised to call 911.  A minute later he is at the window with the boy, we're going to give him a ride. 

His name is Daniel and he's not 13, he's 18. We've already stopped, can't leave him on the roadside.  My husband has him empty his pockets and pats him down.  He's got tobacco, cigarettes,  work gloves, and a pay as you go cell phone.  The phone is out of minutes.   He has no wallet. 

During this inspection he reveals that his brother has his knife and his medication. We are starting to regret stopping.  We don't have all the seats in so he has to sit on our luggage.   "Beats walking 2 more hours," he says.  I watch the GPS in the car counting down the miles until we have delivered him to his chosen location.

We make small talk with the guy as we make our way.  To the question "what happened to your shoes" the answer was that he had had a fight with his brother who kicked him out of the car without all of his stuff.  This did nothing to explain why he wasn't wearing shoes in the car.  The fight, apparently, was about how his brother's girl was hitting on him and he indicated that he wasn't interested in her.  The brother was then insulted that he didn't find his girlfriend attractive.  Yeah, you know, the typical brotherly argument.  I suspect the real story was that he had been robbed during some sort of already illegal activity.

He went on and on about how he would be leaving tomorrow for Florida because there was just too much drama in the place where he lived.  The upside of Florida was that he would be near his daughter who is three.  He also shared that he had 3 other kids in addition to the one in Florida.  He had custody of one of them for a while until he got arrested but he's on probation now so he can probably get the kid back now.  No mention of what the probation was for but based on the oversharing with total strangers, I'd guess something drug related.  Drug possession probably.  So, yes, there in the back of my car with my children is an 18 year old drug addict with a criminal record. 

He reminded me of many of the students attending the school where I work.  Most of them are mentally ill and self medicate with illegal drugs.  The entire ride he continued to entertain us with the story of how he hadn't been paid at his lawn crew job in 2 weeks, how he was practically homeless, how his fiance had broken up with him because he had no money.  He mentioned the Florida move multiple times.  "Gonna stay with my grandma, got a job lined up,  if I get paid tomorrow, I'm outta here!" It was the over exaggerated posturing typical of all 18 year olds but made worse by whatever abuse, neglect, and mental illness this kid had endured.  

After the longest 15 minutes of my life, we finally arrived at intersection where he'd asked to be dropped off.  He'd said he had a cousin he was going to stay with. My husband assumed that we would be dropping him off at a house on the street and started to ask about how far down the house was.  I opened my mouth to start to say that we were dropping him off in this parking lot.  I was sure as hell not going down the street into the pitch black dangerous neighborhood at 12:30 am.  The kid

beat me to the punch saying that we could just drop him at the liquor store.  He thanked us stating that not many people would have bothered to stop and give him a ride.  It was the most realistic and true thing that he'd said since he got in the car.

We watched him head toward the store rolling a cigarette as he walked away.  I realized, there was no cousin.  There was probably no brother either.  Something had happened which had resulted in this kid being miles from home, wallet less and shoe-less.  I shudder to think about what the something was.  Whatever the kid had endured, he had been completely nonplussed by the situation.  He didn't appear upset or surprised or traumatized by the events of his evening that led up to his barefoot stroll down the side of the freeway.  

I reflected on the fact that this wasn't the first kid I'd picked up on the side of the road.  A few months prior, I had noticed a kid walking to school who had gotten spooked by a strange old homeless guy walking behind him down the road.  The guy was likely harmless but he was pretty freaky looking and had started walking in the same direction as the kid.  Poor thing kept looking behind him with fear in his eyes so I showed him my ID badge as I was a teacher in the school district he attended and he got in my car.  I drove him to school and called the school safety officer to let him know the situation.  Meanwhile another driver who had witnessed the situation had called the cops to deal with the homeless guy.  I had been shaken by the whole thing as I have kids and I pictured how scared my own children would have been in that situation.  At the same time I felt good about what I had done.  I had been part of the "village" that it takes to raise a child.  

This time, I didn't have the same good vibe.  I felt lucky that nothing bad had happened given that our kids were in the car.  Watching that kid in the parking lot as we pulled away, I realized that we hadn't really helped him much at all.  Sure, we got him off the freeway but we definitely hadn't dropped him off in a safer location.  Instead of going home to his family with a hair raising tale of his evening, he was likely going to buy some drugs and get high on the street.  I started to wonder whether I should've gone with my first instinct which was to call 911 and report the kid, let them handle it.  He was on probation and probably wasn't supposed to be out wandering around and they might've gotten to the bottom of what had really happened to him.  But what's done is done and I can only hope that we taught him that in his world where he had encountered so many shitty people, there were a few nice ones.  

Evil Campfires

Midway down the street in my neighborhood is lovely open lakefront lot.  Our family along with the neighbors are part of an association that has access to it and use it as a small private beach.  We pay for insurance, mowing, improvements, etc.  It's a pretty little spot and I am told all the time how lucky I a to have such a place to bring my family.  And it's true, I am lucky...but I really hate that fucking beach.

When my kids were small, I would pack up all of our beach stuff and head down there for some family fun.  But after dragging the wagon full of sand toys, water bottles, towels, etc. down the steep incline to the water's edge, invariably someone would have to go to the bathroom and back to the house we'd go.  Once everyone had emptied his bladder and we had now made the slow toddle back down to the beach, someone would fall and skin a knee.  Back to the house again.  Other times, after about 5 minutes of play, I'd get the  "I'm bored, when can we go?" from one of the kids.  Unless there were other children down there to play with, they were bored pretty quickly with each other.  Unfortunately, in our neighborhood, there weren't too many kids when they were younger.  In addition, there are a couple of really bitchy neighbors that feel the need to play policeman.

So this great little beach that my family should have adored became a thorn in my side.  Not much fun for them, therefore, not much fun for me.  The one thing I did enjoy was hosting a cookout with my family and friends once a year.  It was awesome!  We'd haul the coolers down to the beach, start a bonfire and roast hotdogs and sausages right over the fire.  My nieces and nephews as well as our friends loved it.  The kids would swim for hours and then at the end of the evening, we'd roast marshmallows and make s'mores.  It was a lot of work but tons of fun too.

I started to notice something each and every time we had a beach party.  EVERY time one of our neighbors would appear out of nowhere to come and say, "hello."  When I'd inquire as to whether they were going to take a swim or go boating, the answer was no.  "Oh, are you on a walk?" I'd ask.  Again, no.  They seemed to have come down for the sole purpose of checking up on us.  They felt the need to make sure, we, a couple in our LATE thirties, were behaving ourselves and acting responsibly.

Now, my husband and I are responsible people.  We always brought garbage bags down and picked up every scrap of garbage from our picnic and put everything back as it had been before.  And we would fully extinguish our fire prior to leaving the beach.  Despite this, we were subjected to the annual inspection each and every time we had a bonfire.

2 years ago, the fire pit was removed to make way for a gazebo.  The gazebo is really nice but the fire pit was the one thing I liked about that stupid beach. So last year at our association meeting, we voted to rebuild the fire pit.  At the opening meeting yesterday, one of the neighbors whom I call "the sheriff" felt the need to bring the fire department burn regulations to our meeting.  She read off the regs making sure to emphasize that fires could only occur on certain days per week and during certain hours.  She suggested that since the fire must be extinguished by 8:00 pm and all the other restrictions, there wasn't much point in having the fire pit.  She also indicated that the smoke and the "fires at all hours of the night" were a nuisance. In a nutshell, the bitch hates campfires.

My husband tried to interject stating that the regulations didn't include campfires and that the rules were not as stringent for small fires for the purpose of recreation.  He was met with a "I got this directly from the fire department so don't even start with me."

Why was she so rude to my husband?  Because he called her bluff.  She was hoping to scare us all by reading off the burn regulations meant for burning brush in one's yard.  The kind of brush you might have after clearing some old dead bushes and trees.  I called the fire department today and was told that no, a homeowner may have a campfire any time they want as long as they have a burn permit, aren't burning leaves, and are "courteous to the neighbors."  Meaning, don't burn shit every night of the week. 

What this is all really about is an old beef with the neighbors across the street.  They had four teenage/young adults living in the house who all enjoyed the occasional beach party.  Several of the stupid beach rules are directed at this one family, a very nice family by the way.  We aren't allowed to have parties on holiday weekends because this family "was using the beach as their personal party headquarters" according to the sheriff.  We also have  a curfew, to keep the college kids from having a few brewskis and sitting by the campfire late at night.  Now she's trying to bullshit us all with her over interpretation of the burn rules. 

This poor family is one of the few who use the beach regularly.  The husband and wife go for a dip every evening.  They host family gatherings occasionally.  Other than that, the beach is empty 90% of the time.  And the sheriff virtually NEVER comes down there.  They have a paddle boat tied up in back of their yard so they don't even have to come down to the beach to take their evening tool around the lake.  They come down once a month for the association meetings and that's about it. 

What irks me are people like this who take a stand about something that is none of their fucking business.  If it's too noisy down at the beach, ask whomever is down there to keep it down.  If that doesn't work, call the cops.  It's pretty fucking simple.  And, as for the fires, they live far enough from the beach that the excuse that their house is full of smoke is bullshit.  The truth is, they just don't trust anyone to have a fucking fire and put it out when they're done.  We are grown adults, you're gonna have to trust us that we can dump a bucket of water on a fire.  And if you feel the need to come down and check the coals at 1:30 in the morning, that's your problem, not ours. 

I don't mind people being passionate about certain things even if I don't agree.  What I do mind is people who get all up in arms about stuff that has no bearing on their lives.  So, even though I hate the fucking beach, I feel compelled to have a campfire once a week now for the rest of the summer.  In your face sheriff!  And if she gives me any flack, I'm going to make a motion to sell the beach property at the next association meeting since, it seems to be more trouble than it's worth.

You're My Text Friend

Helen and I met in the 6th grade when we had a Math class together.  I can't say it was friend at first sight but certainly she seemed like my kind of person.  Gradually, over the next few years, we became friends and, in high school, she got me a job at the store where she worked.  With the 2 of us spending so much time together at work, the friendship deepened and she truly became my best friend.  I had other friends from various social circles, but she remained a constant in my life throughout high school.

In college, our friendship had periods of ebb and flow.  We each spent time trying out new personalities and friendships with others.  During these periods, we might not speak for months at a time, but ultimately we would reunite.  There were no hard feelings, no harm done.  We allowed each other the freedom to explore our own paths without judgment (at least aloud) from each other.

When we both had children, lives got busy but we still got together at least 2-3 times a year.  Sometimes we would meet at home and the kids would play while we chatted.  Other times we would meet for dinner in the evening.  It was a nice relationship for a long time.

In the past several years, Helen's life has been going extremely well.  She has a nice relationship with her husband as well as 2 beautiful kids. The husband has worked at the same company for years and seems to make a good chunk of change, enough change to allow her to be a stay at home mom.  The kids are both really bright as well as being gifted athletes.  They live in a nice house in a nice neighborhood full of nice people.  They go to fun parties and on fun vacations with the neighbors.  In short, they have a pretty damn nice life and I am very happy for her.  The worst thing that has happened to her is a bout with psoriasis that left her half bald.  Fortunately, her hair grew back and if that's the worst thing that's happened, she is VERY lucky. I have been nothing but positive and happy about the many blessings she has.  I never felt any jealousy, her life was different from mine but I never wanted her life.

For the last few years, things have not been so awesome for me, however.  Even though I love my job, it has been fairly stressful the last few years.  In addition, my marriage isn't in that great of shape either.  We're not going to divorce or anything but I can't say that the relationship is awesome.  There's no abuse, drug, use, gambling, or the like.  I guess you could say we don't have the close relationship I had hoped for when we started out and his work hours left me saddled with most of responsibility for the house and kids which was really exhausting and stressful.  Like Helen, I have 2 beautiful children however my oldest has some emotional issues and both children have learning challenges.  These issues have taken up most of my free time and I have received little support from my husband but plenty of criticism about how I am raising them.  Add in my husband losing his job twice and 2 friends of mine dying and it amounts to a few really crappy years.

At Christmas Helen called to catch up.  She went on for 40 min. about her great life and all the amazing things that were going on.  I enjoyed hearing her news and it was an enjoyable conversation.  Then, the conversation turned to me.  I shared some of the struggles that had been going on with the kids and husband and how stressful things had been.  I didn't go on and on about it or act like the world was coming to an end but I was really honest about how things were going.  When I finished, there was complete silence on the phone.  She simply didn't know what to say.  The conversation became awkward and wrapped up quickly after that.  I could tell from some of the comments she had made about the misfortune of others that we had discussed earlier in the call that she just couldn't understand it.  She felt that her good fortune was her own doing, no luck involved.  I had heard her wonder aloud in the past about how people can have such screwed up lives.  And now here I was, one of those people.

She seems to fail to see that, in addition to being smart about the decisions she's made and working hard, she has also been incredibly lucky.  She's an only child whose parents live only for her and her family.  Her college was paid for.  She had the opportunity to travel abroad.  And, while she's a wonderful mother, her kids being smart is just the luck of the draw.  Yes, her parenting enhanced the talent they were blessed with but she is not solely responsible for their gifts.

She ended the call by saying that she thinks of me a lot but she's sooooo busy these days and did I text?  Maybe we could text each other?  You see, given that she has 6 hours to herself everyday at home with no kids, she's just too busy for a phone call a couple of times a year.  In other words, I had been demoted from a friend that she might actually talk on the phone with to someone she types a few words to once a year.  I appear to be no longer worthy of hearing her voice directly.

Last year her text was delivered on the day a friend of mine passed away.  I mentioned that it was nice to hear from an old friend given the sad news I had just heard.  Via a series of texts she managed to say sorry and that my friend had seemed nice when she met her at my wedding.  She didn't bother to ask what had happened and in the text forum, it was hard to convey the seriousness of the illness my friend had faced and my many emotional visits to the hospital to see her and how she had died just as the doctors were starting to say she was doing better.  She went on in her next text to say something trivial about her daughters upcoming volleyball game or something.  Again, without the benefit of her human voice, it was an abrupt transition that seemed uncaring.  Had it been me, I would've dialed her number and spoken with her directly, even if only for a few minutes, to comfort her.

Needless to say I am angry.  I felt so hurt that she was basically saying that I was not worth her precious time.  I was only worth a few randomly strung together words when she had a minute between her children's many activities.  And even though I was hurt, I tried to play along but, petty as it may sound, I just can't.  At this stage of my life I don't need any more acquaintances, I have plenty thanks.  My deepest desire is to have people in my life who enjoy my company and feel that I am worth their time.  I am not perfect and I may not always be the best company but I try to be a good and caring friend.

It's been several months since the last text I received from her.  She averages 2 per year. You'd think that since we have a text only relationship that she would be in touch more often but, no.   She doesn't even take the time to "like" the photos I post on Facebook.  I am truly grateful for my many years of friendship with Helen, but sadly, I think I'm done. 

Sometimes I say to myself that I hope she calls me when something bad happens so that I can blow her off and show her how bad it feels.  Oh, I'm so sorry your mother passed, I would say.  Why don't we text about it.  But while I may think these insensitive thoughts, I know that if she called needed a shoulder to cry on, I would be there for her any time day or night and it wouldn't matter that she blew me off in my time of need.  After all, that's what friends do.

Who needs Days of Our Lives when you have Facebook

When I was in high school I would hurry home to watch my favorite soap, General Hospital.  This was back in the Luke and Laura wedding era so the story lines were pretty juicy.  Now, soap operas are passe, victim's of the unbelievable amount of content that exists on cable and online.  Instead of a 5 day per week soap, we have several unscripted "reality" shows to keep us entertained.  And then there's Facebook.  Yes, Facebook can provide its share of soap opera like drama.

In the last several weeks I have found myself glued to my Facebook page watching a drama unfold electronically.

It all started when I joined Facebook several years ago at the urging of my husband who discovered it around the time of his 20th high school reunion.  I thought it was completely stupid and could not really understand what the heck I was going to do with it.  At first, it was kind of fun linking up with my friends and old acquaintances from high school and college.  My rules for friending were simple, it had to be someone with whom I have or had a personal relationship. My first "friends" were my actual friends but then I started getting requests from random people from high school.  I remember thinking how nice it was that these people that I hardly know had any interest in looking at my family vacation photos or my random comments.  I was a bit of a Facebook whore, saying "accept" to just about anyone that made a friend request.  Eventually, I stopped doing that but not before I had friended Shelley, Angela, and Mike.

I had been friends with Shelley in middle school but Angela and Mike, a married couple with whom I had attended high school were another story.  Mike's family went to my church and my parents used to chat up his parents after mass occasionally and he had been in a few of my high school classes.  Angela I did not really know at all except I knew that she and Mike had dated since very early on in high school.

I had seen Angela and Mike at my 20 year reunion.  They looked like your typical married couple and I remember thinking how nice it was that they were still together after all that time.  Mike and Angela separately posted things here and there...pictures of the kids and the usual unmemorable comments but nothing of interest...until a status change from Angela stating "Angela is single."  This was followed by a flurry of comments from the high school crowd.  Things like "so sorry" and "I know this has been coming for a while" were posted.  For some unknown reason, their separation bothered me.  How could this rather cute seemingly normal couple with so much history just simply break up?

Things got more interesting a month or so later when Mike posted a photo of himself and Shelley (my former friend from middle school).  I had to wonder, did they just run into each other or are they an item?  Did Mike cheat on Angela with Shelley?  So many questions!

Shortly after that Angela posted another status change, "Angela is in a relationship with Joe Blow."  Many, many photos of Angela and Joe followed posed in various locations.  This was followed by more photos of Shelley and Mike which clearly indicated that they were indeed a couple.  So, after something like 20 years together, Angela and Mike had not only split up but had each found themselves a new mate.

I couldn't stop thinking about this situation and I kept digging for information.  My friend Sara was able to fill in some of the gaps in the story.  She had run into Mike at a restaurant and he had talked about the fact that he and Angela were kaput and, that "it's not always the man that cheats."  He also shared that he was now totally head over heals for Shelley. I was sorry to hear that he was mixed up with Shelley who is a total flake.  It didn't bode well for Mike's future.

Within 6 months, Angela began posting pictures of a sandy beach spot with a caption reading "what a beautiful place to get married."  What followed this were many random photos and comments and she planned her wedding to Joe Blow.  Way to get back up on that horse Angela!

With all of this action going on, I began checking all three of their pages just to get the latest news.  I also got some dirt from friends.  A mom from my kids school, who graduated from my high school, happens to be friends with Angela.  She filled in some details there.  Apparently, nice normal seeming Angela is a bit of a flake herself so it's pretty clear what Mike's type is.  So here's the scoop: Angela married some other guy, not Mike, while she was in college.  They lived in a trailer and her behavior during that time was described as odd.  So odd in fact that Angela's mother wondered if there was a drug problem.  Within a year or 2, this marriage broke up and Angela moved home.  The mom from school, Tara, ran into Mike after church one day and told him that Angela was home and divorced.  Mike drove straight from church to Angela's house and they immediately resumed their relationship.  How romantic, right?  Oh, and Angela's new man, Joe Blow, he is someone she used to hang out at the mall with in middle school. So I guess Angela is content to renew, reuse, and recycle her old relationships when looking for a mate.

So, Angela got married to Joe and posted copious photos of their beach wedding.  Mike continued to date Shelley and post pictures of them together or pictures of he and his daughters doing fun Daddy's weekend activities.  Shelley began posting passive aggressive comments about Angela such  as, "Please keep Mike in your thoughts as he goes to court over custody issues once again.  He is a good dad and doesn't deserve this harassment."  No other custody comments were made after this one.  Don't these people know that it's rude to leave their internet voyeurs hanging?  At least follow up, how did things turn out?

With Angela now happily married and continuously posting photos of herself, Joe Blow, and Mike's kids, things on Shelley's page started heating up.  "I haven't lived with a man in 8 years...here I go," obviously indicating her cohabitation with Mike.  Other posts followed discussing the impact of having 5 children in the house (well, part time but still).  And eventually, the Christmas day post announcing that she got a "ring" as a gift.  This followed by another flurry of congratulatory posts from the masses and an "uh oh" from me.  I felt like I was watching a bad horror movie where the girl goes from room to room in a dark spooky house and starts reaching for the handle of the closet door, like, "no, don't do it Mike!"  After that things were quiet again, Shelley did not choose to give a blow by blow of their wedding plans as she was too busy posting links to animal rights websites.  It got so quiet that I started to hope that the relationship had petered out.  Then, bam! Picture of Mike and Shelley at Niagara Falls. Apparently they took a weekend and got married at the Niagara Falls courthouse.  Mike posted an "aaaaw" worthy comment about how he "married this beautiful woman today.

Well, just as we all knew the girl would open the closet to a hatchet in the head, 4 months later, Shelley and Mike were over.  After 2 years together, moving in together, and uprooting the kids,  it lasted BARELY 4 months.  The engagement lasted longer. Seriously, she's moved into an apartment and has plans to leave the state in several months! Upon last notice, she and Mike continue to be friends and occasionally post that they are having dinner together.  Angela and Joe had a major setback when Joe had a stroke recently.  Since she doesn't post about it anymore, it appears that he has made a decent recovery.

Sharing my foray into internet voyeurism has left me feeling a bit creepy.  I can't imagine what Mike, Angela, or Shelley would think if they realized how much time and interest I had in their lives. I am sure they would think I was nuts.  Their saga, however, seems to be winding down and returning to mundane posts of their kids with Easter baskets or "liking" cheese. The question now is, who is going to entertain me on Facebook?

My Starter Boyfriend

My first real boyfriend way gay so, technically, I started my dating life as a beard.  This did not bode well for my future dating life but it was probably the perfect place for it to begin.

Picture a 17 year old, kinda OK looking, girl with really low self esteem.  At this point, I was in my "experimental phase" which, sadly, consisted only of a bad haircut (short, shaved on the sides and around the back and poofy on top, it was the 80's after all) and these awful Lee Press-On nails painted blood red.  Oh and throw in the one ear that was pierced 4 times while the other one was only pierced 2 times.  Yeah, I was hot!

While I had been interested in boys since the 3rd grade, I was terrified of them.  By age 17 I could now utter a few words to them without running away to hide so I was doing pretty well.  Working in the gift shop at the mall helped with that.  I had to work with boys, thus there was some necessity of speaking to them.  Since these boys didn't go to my school, popularity pecking order didn't apply, thus making things much easier on me.  I got along with Jim better than the rest.

I can credit my best friend Susan with beginning my dating career.  She hooked me up with Jim, not because she wanted me to have a boyfriend, but because she didn't want to get stuck going to prom alone with just her boyfriend.  She was determined to find me a date.  She seized her opportunity when she and Jim got to talking about prom.  Jim said how he would probably take his friend Ellen, a fag-hag-in-training, to his prom. Susan was not having any of that.  Within 15 minutes, she strong armed him into taking me to his prom.  By the end of her shift, she has strong armed me, who had never asked a boy out in her life, into asking him to my prom.

At first, I had assumed that Jim and I were just going to be prom dates for one another but almost as soon as I had agreed to be his date, he started asking me out.  We went to movies, out to dinner, and even a couple parties to meet his friends.  He was starting to be like a real boyfriend.

He was the perfect starter boyfriend for the shy, awkward 17 year old me.  First, although he was a perfectly nice looking guy, he wasn't really my type.  I hadn't been pining away for him when we started dating.  For me, it was an opportunity engage in the normal act of having a boyfriend but without the high stakes of an emotional relationship.  He taught me to smoke, drink, and make out without ever trying to get in my pants.  Had I been really into him (and had he been straight), I would have no college degree and would now, at age 44, be blogging about how my 26 year old son never calls me anymore.

For Jim, I served the same purpose in reverse.  He had a nice inexperienced girl that he could parade around in front of people and refer to as his girlfriend.  My sexual inexperience insured that I probably would perceive him as acting the gentleman rather than the truth that he didn't find me, or any other women for that matter, physically attractive.  Perhaps he thought, hoped, that maybe, just maybe he'd be into me, thus proving that he wasn't gay.

So how did a naive girl like me figure out that my boyfriend was gay?  Well, the answer is slowly, over a long period of time.  But I was never blind to the signs, like how delighted he was when he discovered that he had perfectly matched the royal blue ribbon on my corsage to my royal blue prom dress.  Like how he was the one who told me that if I dried my hair while bending forward that my hair would have more body.

His complete homophobia was another clue.  Once an openly gay student from my high school came into the store while Jim and I were working.  Jim hid under the counter until the guy left.  When I asked him what the hell he was hiding from, he whispered, "that guy is gay."  I remember wondering what the big deal was.  Then at my prom, my openly gay counselor, who was chaperoning the event, called to me as I was leaving the dance floor with Jim.  Apparently, Mr. Smith was on the interviewing committee for some scholarship for which Jim had applied.  He had wanted to compliment Jim on how well he had done in the interview.  When I turned around, Jim had disappeared.  After hunting around for several minutes, I found Jim crouched down at our table.  When I tried to coax him over to Mr. Smith he refused saying, "I'm not comfortable with him, he's gay."  Again I wondered, so what?  I also thought, I know these people are gay because they work at or attend my school.  How does he, who doesn't go to my school or even live in the same city, know anything about the sexual orientation of these 2 people?  While I could chalked up his discomfort around gay people to his Catholic schooling, I was fairly certain that the problem wasn't religion.

Sadly, by college, Jim was in full denial of his sexual orientation.  He joined a very macho fraternity and took his role as a pledge very seriously.  He relished his pledge nickname "Batman" given to him because the old woody station wagon he drove resembled the Bat Mobile. By December when I came home for Christmas, his grades were falling and his scholarship was in jeopardy.  He took me to a frat party hay ride and made a point of making out with me right in front of all his fraternity brothers while they chanted "Batman, Batman!"  He had never kissed me that passionately in private.

By February, he was on academic probation.  His scholarship adviser was desperately trying to help him save his academic career.  His fraternity pledge duties were interfering with his ability to attend classes. He shared this with me in one of our weekly phone calls while I was out of state at school.  When I suggested that maybe it was time to take a break from the fraternity stuff, I was met with a chilly silence followed by something about how I didn't understand what he was going through.  And that, was the last time I ever spoke to him.  We had had plans to attend his fraternity formal the following weekend.  I had gotten a ride home from school for the event and had borrowed a dress from my roommate.  He never returned my calls.

Years later I was getting my hair done at a salon in the mall.  As the stylist was cutting my hair, in the mirror I saw a man enter the salon,  stow his coat behind the counter, and begin answering the phone that had just begun to ring.  Although, the usually dark brown hair was different, accented by blonde and red highlights, the face was unmistakable.  And, any nagging questions I might have had about his sexual orientation were answered the moment he stepped behind that counter.

Sadly, our reunion wasn't a warm or happy one.  My greeting, "hello stranger" was met with a terse "hi" from him.  Then he ran my credit card, handed me my slip to sign, and said "thank you" and "good bye."  I felt sad that this man who had been my friend for 2 years, who had been my first boyfriend couldn't even make small talk with me.

Looking back I am very grateful for my first gay boyfriend.  He offered me a safe place to try out relationships.  He was my training wheels.  After him, the training wheels came off and I was left suffer the bumps, scrapes, and headlong crashes of the relationships ahead of me.  Even now, married with kids, I am still somewhat of a disaster in the relationship department.  I can only hope that he is now comfortable in his own skin and has fared at least a little better than me in finding love.

Epilogue: Recently I came across a picture of me and Jim at his prom.  There we were 2 clueless kids in the midst of identity crises smiling for the camera.   I laughed out loud at the sight of it.  I instantly wanted to send it to Jim. Surely by now, a man in his forties, he could appreciate and have a good laugh over this photo.  I searched Facebook,  nothing, Twitter,  nothing.   This was curious since he seemed like someone who would love social media.  I then tried Linkedin, his dad was on there but no Jim.  Then I tried searching his sister Amy.  Amy had been his best friend.   They had been inseparable in high school.   Amy's name popped right up.  She was a lawyer in Florida and coincidentally,  also gay.  Guess my gaydar isn't so great 'cause I did not see that one coming. Anyway, a quick search of her friend list revealed no trace of Jim, really weird.  Did they have a falling out?  I just couldn't picture that.  I could have messaged Amy to ask but I had a feeling I shouldn't.   A few days later I did a Google search as I still had this burning curiosity about him.  This time an obituary popped up.  It was clearly for an older woman judging by the name but the last name matched Jim's.  when I opened it, I realized it was for his grandma on his dad's side.  It stated that she was survived by her sons, one being Jim's dad.  Then the shocking part, it said that she was preceded in death by her grandson, with Jim's full name listed.  Yes, the reason I couldn't find him was that he had died back in 1997, only 28 years old. To add to the sad story,  his mother died the next year.  She'd have been somewhere in her fifties, young too.  I felt sad for Amy and her dad, half the family lost over 2 years.  I thought of Amy losing her best friend at a time when both were dealing with whatever challenges they faced as homosexuals in the late eighties and early nineties growing up in a Catholic family. 
Not being satisfied with knowing the poor guy is dead, I tried to find out what happened to him.  There was no obituary as this was before everything was uploaded onto the internet.  The Internet was in it's infancy back then.  I eventually got a death record with the date of death but nothing about why.  I suppose it doesn't matter, I would guess that it was unexpected and sad. 
So I have no one to send that horrid picture to.  I can only hope that in whatever afterlife there is, that Jim is having a chuckle over it.

Too Much Information

You know me.  I don't mean to say you have literally met me, shaken my hand, and have had a conversation with me.  I mean to say that you in the last week you have probably run into someone like me.  You may have been in the grocery store, at the copy machine at work, waiting outside the kids' school, or near the chips and dip at a party when you encountered my kind.  I am the person who takes the conversation one step beyond where it should have ended.  I am the person who can't just give the simple answer, wrap up the conversation and move on.  No, not me.  I leave you mentally willing an escape hatch to appear.

Now, I know I am not the worst person of my kind.  I won't hijack your conversation forever...just slightly over the comfortable amount of time.  If you compliment me on my shoes, you are likely to get the story of how I came to buy them.  "How's it going," might yield the story of whatever calamity occurred this morning as I was getting ready for work. I talk and talk until I notice that uncomfortable twitchy body posture that says, "Oh my God, get me out of here!"  As my victim quickly rounds the corner and ducks out of view, the remorse creeps in.  "What the hell is wrong with me?" I ask myself, "why can't I just give a simple answer to a simple question."  When someone asks you how you are, just say, "fine."   If someone compliments your outfit, say "thanks."

Why am I like this??  It probably stems back to, of course, my childhood.  As a kid I was shy, I didn't know what to say in new situations and often felt awkward trying to make small talk with new people.  So I learned to blend in to the scenery and  keep myself from being noticed. I didn't express opinions or give much in the way of information about myself.  I mainly just agreed (within reason of course) with whatever the speaker said.  As I got older and gained more confidence and all those bottled up thoughts and feelings came whooshing out like air rushing out of a balloon. I just can't hold it in any more and thus give TOO MUCH INFORMATION.  Welcome to my life.