Monday, July 14, 2008

Whatever Happened to “What’s His Name”??


Okay, I’m full of it... “He” has a name. I’ll go ahead and call him by his first name: Bert. My friend and I were looking at high school yearbooks last week and we happened to move onto the topic of our first loves. Not really sure about love at first sight, there's usually a look, something said, or not said, or even just a smile that gets my attention. (Most Aquarians are friends first… Love comes MUCH later.) I don’t want to say that there were many suitors, but there have been a few that I had to really stay away from due to the fact that they moved too quickly, were too possessive, or just needed too much. Being Hispanic I can say this, or can I? I hated dating within my own race because most of the boys I grew up with were “mama’s boys” and, just like their dads, very controlling and planning for the ten or twelve kids they wanted you to pop out. No thanks! My plans had always included going to college, not having kids until I was in my 30’s, and getting out of Lubbock, Texas. Since I’ve done all three, I guess I followed through pretty well.

In high school, I really didn’t fit into any one crowd; I actually enjoyed hanging out with peeps from the band, the tennis team, the journalism crowd, the “punks”, and mostly with the orchestra geeks… I was one of them. When I try, I can’t really remember when I first noticed Bert. (I won't give you his last name as it is Jewish and you could definitely find him if you did a Google search.) He was a year ahead of me and was a viola player in the orchestra when I got to Lubbock High School in ’82 as a sophomore. (Freshmen attended junior high, very strange.) There was nothing really remarkable about his appearance. I thought he had very brown, but thoughtful eyes. What I do really remember was the fact that he had an incredible sense of humor: very dry, witty, nothing outrageous, intelligent. He was very unlike many of the other kids I knew. Although not too concerned with how he dressed, Bert wasn’t a slob… Generally, a pair of Lee jeans, a tee, and a button up shirt, oh, of course, his trademark brown leather “Ivy” cap. Overall, on the cuteness scale, I’d give him about an 8.5.

Poor guy, I crushed on him for years. He actually took me to his senior prom in ’84, but by that next year, he was living in the Dallas-Ft. Worth area, failing out of UT Arlington, if I recall correctly. Bert actually moved back home a couple of times, either living with his mom and sis, or with our mutual friend Kevin. During the 4 to 5 years we pseudo-dated, there were many drunken conversations… He admitted that he was “emotionally retarded” and I knew that I was scared to death of being in a serious relationship, never mind how badly I wanted to commit to him. We never had sex, we were both too scared and stupid, and we only stole a few kisses here and there. Not to say that I didn’t have a few boyfriends during this time. The majority of those relationships were out of “convenience”… At least I was going out to football games, dances, parties, having a good time and not looking too much like a nerd.

Right after high school, I got into my first serious relationship. Soon thereafter, Bert joined the Air Force. I’m not sure exactly precipitated this decision, but I’m sure a lot of it had to do with his father and growing up the son of retired AF. (Dr.R was a jerk to his son and his family. On prom night, I remember him making some smart ass comment about Bert and I having ham and cheese sandwiches, knowing full and well that his son had saved and scrimped to make sure we had the best of everything that night.)
Once that relationship ended, I had Bert on the brain again and tracked him at Eglin AFB in Florida. The one thing I remember about that call was that he was absolutely floored to hear from me. “Oh, you just made my night… No, my life”!

We ended up with the same cycle of wanting each other but not knowing how to approach the subject and situation. Basically, it came down to us calling each other when we had a little too much to drink and talking about how we should have done things differently in high school. A couple of times, his best friend would call me and tell me how much Bert really missed me and that I needed to go out there. His buddies on base even tried persuading me by offering to buy my plane ticket out there. One time, Bert even broke down himself and asked me to go. I just never had the nerve.

After his return from his tour in Panama, Bert decided to visit Lubbock, although he hated the town with a passion. I had a party with some friends from high school and a couple of days later, he took off to DFW to see some old friends. This time, he convinced me to meet him there so we could hang out before he had to return to Florida. I flew out and the time we spent together flew. Once again, we never “consummated” our relationship and again, I was crushed that he was once again out of my life.

Like the time after high school, I began another serious relationship, and after dating the idiot for five years on-and-off, we ended up eloping in Vegas. There were so many things that were WRONG about that marriage. Just the fact that we couldn’t stay together steadily for five years preceding the marriage, should have been the biggest clue that it was not meant to be. (Fortunately, we didn’t have children so ripping off that band-aid was very easy.)

I still think about Bert sometimes. Not wondering what could have been, but hoping that he eventually found some peace and happiness in his life. He truly deserves it. As for me, it took lots and lots of work to finally become healthy enough to have a decent marriage… In ways it’s not perfect, but is a work in progress.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

We've all got some near misses in our lives.

If you think about it really hard, it almost always is for the best.

According to your blog you hate country music but one song lyric does apply, "Thank God for unanswered prayers."

It is difficult enough to make a good relationship work - when one (or in your case both?) party is hesitant to the point of recalcitrance, what hope can there be?

When the sharp edges finally wear off such memories, they can still provide some amount of satisfaction if we allow them. Threads in the tapestry - ¿No es verdad?