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April 27, 2006
Yankee Doodle Kill Me
Do you remember your first love? The real kind, the kind that turned your stomach into a roiling mess of nerves, the kind that made you think dirty thoughts inappropriate for your age bracket, the kind that opened your mind to all the power and electricity that can surge between two people hopped up on Marlboros and Ramen noodles?
I do.
He was an unbelievably awesome, incredibly smokin', artsy, long-banged, skateboarding sophomore from a rich New Hampshire family. He was considered the smartest guy in his class - taking five languages at once - and was the best guitar player I had ever heard. He was the first guy to tell me I was pretty, and he was the first guy who looked at me and tilted his head towards the door like, "Hey. You wanna hit it out of here? Just you and me?"
He was also the one I never got a chance to say good-bye to.
So how utterly crushing, then, to discover, as I did this evening, that my all-time lovey loves...is a MAN-AT-ARM in a Revolutionary War reenactment troupe.
Seriously.
Have I not suffered enough here.
Teaches me to use the Google.com.
He is still single though...um...mmm-hmm.
Adding a heaping serving of embarrassed panic, there are loads of pictures up on the "militia's" Web site. But between all the muskets and fifes and tri-cornered hats and good-natured, historically accurate enjoyment, I can't pick him out. And frankly, I'm not trying too hard.
Guess I'll really never be 14 again.
Posted by Bree at April 27, 2006 10:16 PM