*blue balls not included.
I randomly thought today about another guy that I briefly dated in high school. And believe it, Internets — HE WAS A NICE GUY. I was only in my sophomore year, and I remember him coming to pick me up at my grandmother’s house (he was a year or two above me).
I was in awe when Piano Man sat down at my grandmother’s piano and started playing by heart something so intensely beautiful. I almost want to say it was something he composed himself. Grandmother? Impressed. Me? Beyond words.
We went on a few dates, and then I moved to a new high school — but we kept in touch, albeit through LETTERS… damn life before internet and cell phone communication. I remember another date just sitting with him outside on his front step, talking, watching the stars… and then he brought his guitar out and started singing to me. Why did I not think this was incredibly cheesy back then? Well, because he wasn’t cheesy in the slightest. He went on to become a college professor because he also had a brain to go along with all his other talents. (I Googled him a few years ago — psycho web-stalker — I think I may have e-mailed him too).
Ultra-romantic guys like that would freak me out today.
The relationship obviously did not advance to “serious” mostly as result of the distance. I gleefully ran into him though in one of my “in between” phases with HSS while pop-and-locking over at the Mentor Have a Nice Day Cafe (totally aging myself here). We went back to his parents house to post-party after the bar (he had already relocated elsewhere after college), and then he apparently got sick. Well, he was in the bathroom for a really, really long time. We had to let ourselves out of his house without saying goodbye. I never saw him again. I imagine he never healed from the embarrassment, since I never heard from him again either.
See? The Google search assured me that I didn’t leave him there to die in his own vomit.
His family would eventually move out of Mentor, therefore never inducing the chance of running into him or his family again. I’m randomly thinking about him because I met someone that reminded me of him. Totally weird, brain. Totally weird.
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This blog is about pursuit: a transplanted Clevelander (me) in a new city (that's you, Pittsburgh!), pursuing the role of a self-employed copywriter, becoming a roller derby badass and somehow merging all my to-do items into one ever-growing Bucket List.
And of MY boyfriend. His blue balls started this mess.
