I’ve been in the process of updating my website, so this blog of mine is part of my learning the new system. Hopefully the learning curve will be a short one. I discovered this photo of me from years ago (please don’t ask me how many). It was taken on New Years Eve and this night turned out to be a memorable one..
Like being in a sudden time warp, I had the opportunity to celebrate this particular New Year’s Eve with a guy I’d had a crush on when I was barely into puberty.. My parents were friends with his parents, and even though he was approximately fourteen years older than me, I yearned to be close to him whenever we had the opportunity to see one another at some kind of family function. I even went to his wedding shower with my parents. I didn’t forget him through the years. Physically attractive with a handsome face, killer smile, and toned muscles from lifting weights,he seemed like the closest I would ever get to knowing a perfect person.
We had a glorious evening together that New Year’s Eve. I was the one who had invited him to my friends’ party. He hadn’t seemed to have changed much even though more than a decade had passed between us. I was the one who had changed - to a grown woman. Except for some wrinkles and a palpable sadness that surrounded him because of his divorce, he appeared at first as the same “perfect” person I’d had my crush on years before.
Of course not one of us is perfect, and most of us are far from it, and I was about to learn a lesson.
We left the party after midnight and went to his suburban house, now void of his wife who had left him, along with their three children.
It was here he felt comfortable enough to take off his mask and I saw him then as a vulnerable man trying his best to get through a difficult situation and start a new life with a new partner.
But I was a young woman out to enjoy my life without a lot of drama, or children (yet) or stepchildren. He was approaching middle age, hoping to somehow get back to enjoying his.
So, what do writers do when they recall instances like these? They write about them. And that’s exactly what I did. I wrote about my experience with Bill, altering it into a fictional short story titled, “Crushing.” It seems to me we took turns at having a crush on one anther when we both knew it wasn’t meant to be.