September 27, 2002

In my last year in high school, I was reeling from a break-up, a depressive slump, a knock-down fight with my folks, and a suddenly numerous group of friends. At lunch time, I had a place to sit, amongst people I thought were cool. It provided an escape from all the other crap.

We played D&D (even the chicks!), hung out, killed time, complained about our parents, high school, and life. During that time, I fell in love with a gal in our group. She was the perfect package for me; she was sweet, pretty, sassy, and had a tinge of sadness that I could rescue her from. The problem? Her boyfriend.

I hated him. He was a goof, a drunkard, and an idiot for mistreating my gal. All the times he hung out with all of us, all the times she sat across from me, I wished that she would leave him, or that he would do something so stupid that she would see his true self.

She and I spent so much time on the phone, that my parents finally decided to buy call waiting. We talked about everything, how we fell in love with those who didn�t love us, how we wanted our lives to be, what we thought was missing.

She knew what I thought about her. There was a kitchy moment when we were all putting on a mood ring. Red, green, yellow. And it turned deep blue on my hand. Someone, I can�t remember who, the idiot, shouted, �Hey! That means you�re in love! Who are you in love with?�

And like an dork, I looked straight at her and she was looking back. I stuttered �Uh�uh�� while she smiled. I think the bell rang, or something equally clich�.

And then, like a bad teen movie, I heard she had split from her guy. I was giddy with possibilities, while pretending (and not very well), that I was just �a good friend� concerned about how she was handling it. I picked my friends for gossip, and their opinions. I was hoping for a common rally against the evil boyfriend, and when I found none, I dreamed up my own reasons to hate him.

One night, the doorbell rang, and there she was, smiling and embarrassed. She asked me out. I literally walked outside with her to talk to her, and she mentioned the breakup, the need to date other people, and how she thought I was the best guy to ask.

I was giddy for that week. That Friday night, we went out for spaghetti and a movie, a really bad one with Sylvester Stallone. We kissed, and the next day she told me that she was getting back with her guy. She spent too much time with him to throw that away.

And for a while, I fooled myself that this was the best, and romantic, thing to do; to let her go with my best wishes.

Later, I found out that she took me out to make him jealous. Whether or not that was true, they got engaged at graduation, and I left high school feeling as if I was skinned.

I even went to their wedding�