The internet is a blessing and a curse, as is almost everything in this world. You take the good and the bad. Too much leads to too little. We know the drill on how over using anything leads us down the slippery slope to some level of hell where we are surrounded by people and talk to none. There we are, typing away on our little keyboards, headphones on, missing the scenery.
However, let's push past this and talk about how in one week, I can write to and reacquaint myself with three boys now men whom I loved in a fashion.
I met L in 7th grade. Let me also state that my breasts grew that year as well. I will always connect the two events, L and my breasts. We sat across the aisle from each other in social studies, and drove the teacher batty with our flirting. L was one of those boys who knew who he was, how good looking he was, how funny--he also knew his limitations. I can't remember what they were or are. If you watch Friday Night Lights, he was like the Tim Riggins character. I was--well, I don't have a character in that show because I was in the crowd, an extra, watching L on the football field.
So who ends up writing to me on Facebook? Good old L. God bless him, he always carried 7th grade in his heart. As we grew up, he'd nod at me, remembering our little flirting. And now, a grown man with a beautiful (of course) wife and two beautiful children, he's the same, nonchalant L he always was, giving me the Facebook nod.
J also wrote to me. J was my unrequited crush of high school sophomore year. J was a lot like L, but dark where L was bright red. J and L played on the same football team, but that wasn't really the reason I liked J. Or maybe it was. Something in my now fully breasted self wanted the large presence of a big guy, a strong guy. J and I flirted in the halls. We might have danced at a dance. I don't think we got to the phone call stage, or we just had. We were on the cusp, on the brink (wait that's the inauguration poem) and then he left me for S. Who could blame him? S was a skinny, sexy piece of work, and it didn't take much for me to understand why he'd do that. I was crushed, of course. Desperately sad. For a few weeks.
But there J was on Facebook. He actually apologized for being such a "putz" in high school. Hello! Take that off the therapy list.
The next man who wrote was a friend I meat my freshman year of college. C was skinny and funny and hung out with me and then my roommate M. We went out underage drinking, ate lunch together, drank the light brown swill in the cafeteria together (this was Turlock, CA in the early 80's. Coffee hadn't been invented yet). He followed me through my ridiculous crush on G, who, god dammit, was another L and J. What is wrong with me? Anyway, we commiserated on love and life, and then one drunken evening had a little fling that we managed to get past and through. I might have last seen him at graduation.
And yet, there he was, writing me on Facebook! He is a lawyer and runs a couple of businesses. He has two children, and isn't a skinny kid any longer. Holy cow.
I looked at all three of these emails on one day as I sat in my car. I stared at my blackberry, wondering, how is this possible? The internet has brought my past right into my hand, in a net of boy weirdness. I was able to chat with L about our past, accept J's apology, and share my life with C, the only one of these men I really knew.
But still. What an amazing handful of life.
Causes Jessica Inclán Supports
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