Lazy Sunday. I’ve had too much coffee, nothing to eat, played four rounds of Mad Libs and dug through a box filled with mostly stupid crap I’ve managed to cling to for far too long. Things like a 6th grade report on Kenya for which I received a 94 and biography report on my uncle John R. Crews, recipient of the Congressional Medal of Honor, for which I received a 98 along with some humility, and a pile of letters written to my 16-year-old self by a tall blonde boy that won my heart with one look.
I suppose keeping these notes are a sort of mental masturbation, not unlike this website. A solo stroking of the ego 2K3 style. But, I can’t help it, this boy had me swooning. For a few wistful weeks in the Fall of 1987, he called me names like “baby doll” and played Pour Some Sugar on Me on his guitar as though he had written it exclusively for me. He wrote the sweetest notes full of misspellings and flirtatious lead ons. Reading them now, my face stings with embarrassment. I was so eager to be loved and was so desperately needy that I chased that kid away and my heart was broken. But I still have his letters, and I’m in love all over again. Hot stuff!
Now double the age I was when I won and lost his heart at my own undoing, I’m still the same stupid girl making the same dumb mistakes. Only now I can vote and stuff.