Straightman
Unpopular Opinion
Registered: Oct 2000
Location: Knoxville, Tennessee
Posts: 436 |
 What if?...
So I got this letter yesterday from a woman that I had been pining over for quite awhile.
She has been the inspiration for many of my more romantic, starry eyed, "love is absolutely be-yoo-ti-ful" forum contributions.
Now before I go any further, let me say that she is a woman that I know, not from Asylum, or any other web page, internet-type gathering place, but from every day life.
We met in High School around 1992.
She was part of a different social group than myself. We had a few classifications of social circles, mine being one that no longer exists in any school that I know of.
She was a "preppie" and I was a "hood".
There were other classifications: "nerds", "rednecks", "jocks"
"skater punks";
but no two classifications hated each other more than the preps and the hoods.
The preps viewed hoods as low class, uneducated, dirty longhaired losers.
The hoods thought of preps as goody goody stuck up snobs with daddy's money, all clad in Guess (tm) jeans.
Some of the most intense fights in school stemmed form these two groups. ( I graduated in 94. Long before Columbine and kids shooting kids. We just beat the shit out of each other)
I was considered a "big dog" in the hood group, and was well known throughout my school years. (I said I was well known...I never said I was "Popular")
So being, I was often the target of ridicule and, for lack of better terms, usually in the eye of the shit storm, when the preppies felt like starting some shit.
Through all of this, there was one girl in the preppie ranks that never had any cross words for me.
I know what your thinking,"How very Romeo and Juliet... two star crossed lovers from different worlds..."
Well...fuck you then.
She and I were never "an item", nor did we hook up at some party or any other thing like that.
We were simply acquainted. When we spoke, we were courteous and kind to one another. That was all.
Fast forward to 2000, around January.
We met up again while I was working 3rd. shift in a gas station. (This is around the time that I was regularly posting in SPF)
We really hit it off.
We laughed at how petty our "groups" were compared to how things worked in the real world outside of those hallowed halls of learnin'.
She came in to see me regularly, often reading the compilations of my writings that I was putting together for a book.
One night, several weeks later, she was reading one particular writing, when she stopped and remarked how sweet it was.
I then pulled a copy of the same writing out of the back of one of my folders and gave it to her.
I then told her that I had written it for her, and would she please accept a copy.
She smiled her breathtaking, warm smile, and hugged me tightly.
She told me it was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her.
Things were going nicely, as far as a friendship was concerned.
We regularly exchanged e-mails, and she continued to visit.
But you know me...always wanting to go that extra step.
I wanted her. I knew from the moment that she came walking in after so many years that I wanted her.
Not in a sexual way exclusively, you dirty minded bastards. I wanted to be with her. She was sweet, intelligent, and beautiful. And dammnit, she liked me for who I was.
I wanted to ask her out, to take her places, to just be with her.
But unfortunately, money was tight and I refused to ask her out and not be able to show her a good time.
I decided to wait until I got all of my shit worked out and could affort to take her to the places that I believed was worthy of her.
(Dinner and a movie? Pshaw! We're talking fine dining and theater productions. No McDonalds and The X Men here!)
But I tarried too long. The money never miraculously came,and I never asked her out. Somehow, I got the fool idea that she was waiting.
So back to this letter that I got yesterday.
She's doing fine, she's pregnant, and getting married soon. That's it in a nutshell.
I never dated this woman. I never really told her how she made me feel.
But somehow, reciept of this news left me with a feeling of loss.
That feeling of asking "What if?..."
And the moral of this story is...
"Don't do drugs!"...
wait a minute...wrong moral...
To borrow a slogan from Nike (tm) or some other sports shoe type endorsement:
"Life is not a spectator sport. Either get in there and play the goddamn game, or you have no right to bitch when the home team loses."
That's my time and you heard it here from...
The Straightman
------------------
"I was a Rennaissance Man,had Mona Lisa In my bed"
Eternal Straightman
Cab Over Pete
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03-21-2001 08:22 PM
