An Evening Ten Years In The Making...

Ten hours ago, I sat on the edge of my bed. My bare feet sticking out of my pinstripe slacks and my tie draped my neck, both waiting for me to make the necessary movements to remedy their sloven statuses. But I was frozen, sitting there with scenes from high school replaying in my mind and reminding me that I wasn't a popular student a decade ago when I walked the halls of Santana High School. And yet, I was about to finish dressing in my suit and fedora and face all of those students, some of which had made my life living hell for four years.

At first, I had trouble connecting with others. I either didn't recognize them, or couldn't remember their names. Once I finally did start saying hi, I was surprised at the response I received. Where I expected lackluster greetings, I found hearty and earnest handshakes. Women hugged me and everyone was glad to see me. The cliques and boundaries of the high school days had fallen behind me and everyone forgave the person I was before who would stand out easily because of his faith and his personality.

Most people recognized me immediately. In fact, several people saw me as I walked in and knew who I was because I gave off the same presence I did before. Those that didn't know me as well, didn't put my name and face together without assistance, but still remembered who I was. I would have to say that is pretty impressive for someone who wasn't Homecoming King, ASB President, or a Jock.

There are two incidents that leave me utterly speechless from this evening. The first is when I was talking to a friend whom I had kept in contact with via email, but I had not seen her since then either. I had a crush on her senior year, hence my desire to keep in contact with her, but she had married herself off and began raising a family. Neither of us recognized each other at first; Her hair color changed from light to dark and I had lost weight, cleared my school yard acne, grown a beard and gotten LASIK. During our conversation, she commented on these changes and added, "Might I say, you look rather handsome and attractive!"

I couldn't help, but blush and laugh.

"I can't believe you just said that to me," I said. "I had a crush on you in high school and now, ten years later, you say that you find me attractive and there isn't anything I can do about it because you are married!"

Somehow, she didn't know that I liked her. Apparently, she wasn't as popular as I thought she was back then, either, but all I saw back then was a beautiful woman who was out of my league. Now, I saw a beautiful woman with a loving husband and two adorable children. Damn.

And then she walked in. The one person I hoped to see the entire evening and tried finding online the night before. The one woman I had wondered about off and on for several years. The girl whom I first fell in love with when she transferred to my sixth grade classroom, but I never acted upon as more than a friendship for six and a half years of school with her. There she was, as happy to see me as I was to see her.

As we talked, my crush rekindled. I felt drawn to her and knew that I needed to make a move. She told me that she was seeing someone, but that they weren't doing too well and someone once told me that, unless they are married, they are fair game. I eventually pulled her ear close and said, "I know that you said that you have a boyfriend, but you have to let me buy you coffee or lunch some time when I am back in San Diego."

Without pressing her too much, I was a constant presence around her the rest of the evening. I tended to a wound she received at a club and even held her hand down a flight of stairs (side note: you have no idea how good it felt just to hold a woman's hand again) and we even spoke briefly of spiritual and personal matters, making myself vulnerable to her in the process. She saw my character and I hope to be able to pursue her and draw her away from the guy she's dating now. I can't get her out of my head and every feeling I had for her ten years ago has resurfaced.

And so I sat on the edge of my bed after coming home. My shoes and socks had slipped off as my bare feet stuck out of my pinstripe slacks and my tie was loosened from the noose it once formed around my neck. I removed my fedora from my head and placed it in the hat box and then just sat there, pondering the evening.

For the longest time, my figurative mouth was empty. I had so much about the evening to share, but didn't know where to start or how to even formulate the proper sentence structure. I walked into the evening, not sure whether or not I should look forward to it, but I walked out with encouragement and hope. Perhaps a prospect of love, or only a reminder that I've got something to offer for the right woman. Not much of me has changed since high school, but my confidence is what sets me apart from the man I once was and is what I need to rely upon in the months to come.