Tales of a High School "Torrid Affair"

I met Erik in one of the school computer labs. I was after school working on the school newspaper or literary arts magazine; I was a junkie for publications and writing even then. Who knows why he was there. Erik wasn't on my girl radar for a few reasons: he wasn't in band and rather than excelling in English, like myself:), he was a Math genius, which I was not. Sometimes in high school we are defined by our gifts and while that identity can be positive, it also streamlines who we know or feel we should get to know. Erik and I had different groups of friends and in a large high school you can function without butting up against another social group with relative ease. I don't think I saw him at all throughout the day, but with some anticipation, I knew that staying after school meant seeing him.

Erik didn't fit my standard profile of cute guy- brown hair and thin, band geek and one of my classmates. Erik had dirty blond hair and was, well, skinny too. Smart, but far from pretentious about it and that was intriguing to me since I had been sucked into the AP world. Regardless of what circles we ran in, we wound up visiting in the computer lab every afternoon while I did my thing and he did his. Then, we would walk down from the 3rd floor lab together, visit and head to our respective activity bus'. I remember him once carrying my bag for me. It was laden with every textbook we were required to study from and was quite heavy. What brought on the adolescent chivalry? We liked one another.

Details about our timeline are fuzzy but I know we were trading ridiculously cheesy, but inflamed phone calls over Thanksgiving break. Back in those days, my separated parents still got together for holiday meals because they thought it was good for my brothers and I. In retrospect, my mother probably knew that we wouldn't see our Dad at all if we didn't include him. For some reason, my Dad hosted Turkey Day that year, which seemed to add to the allure of phone calls back and forth from a place I rarely spent any time.

If I may pause for an aside: couples of today (heck, people, in general) have a different kind of access to their loved ones than my generation. With no cell phones in sight and the fear of a parent answering a phone, talking to your significant other could be a chore. Conversations tied up a single home phone line and one found themselves pestered by others who needed the phone. Or, you found yourself receiving a busy signal again and again and again. Plus, calling your loved one meant speaking to a parent and if you called multiple time, annoying said parent. Finally, you couldn't keep insane relationship hours because no one's home phone was ringing past 9 unless there was an emergency. In our house, we had two phones, one in my Mom's room and one in the kitchen. It would be years later before we had a cordless phone.

Back to high school relationship #1: My high school was all about dances. Every month there was a themed dance sponsored by different school activities. Dances were huge fundraisers so everyone counted on hosting one. We had two semi-formals, Sadie Hawkins and a flurry of other casual goofy-titled dances. Erik and I shared company at one dance, though we arrived with our respective friends, not together. Surely there were slow dances that night that fed into a romantic ideal of mine and when we- PG-13 alert for anyone who doesn't want to know this much about Becky- kissed for the first time that night in the (insert gagging noise) parking lot, I was stunned. With what was surely glee and embarrassment, I hopped into my friends car and he returned to his. We followed relatively the same path to our homes for a bit and at the intersection where my ride went left and he continued forward, we got a little carried away with our waving and Erik managed to hit another car. Crash. He was ok physically and so was the other driver but I think most people can imagine the angst of a new driver and their first crash. Not good. And young male drivers are expensive to insure.

Later that night I had my Mom drive us past Erik's house to make sure he was ok. Note: I didn't go up to the house and I didn't call since it was past 10. Why the drive by? Erik had alluded to a dysfunctional relationship with his Dad and I was worried that crashing one of the family cars was going to bring down the thunder. Since the exterior of his home offered little proof of his emotional or physical safety I slept poorly that night, but still give my Mom props for agreeing to drive me past his house to pacify my nerves.

Alas, this wasn't a well-timed relationship. My very best friend Stephanie moved away at the beginning of December and her absence (as well as her twins, who I was also close to) made me wearily sad. Combined with my growing awareness of my Dad's devoted membership to the Super Loser Dad club, our perpetual poverty and family problems, I hit a wall. I stopped eating and entered a mighty depression. That trimester that I met and "went out with" (having gone on maybe one date) Erik I also missed school 20 times and my ability to maintain the illusion of do-everything (well) girl disappeared. Thus, I wasn't a super fun gal to date, let alone understand.

I think I got dumped in a note that I opened during AP European History class. Male teachers don't like to see girls cry; it's like they've asked for a hug and a tampon at the same time-- that's how uncomfortable they look, so my teacher gladly excused me to cry in the bathroom stall. If memory serves, the note was kind, but alluded to the many complicated issues I was facing and suggested this wasn't "our" time. I'm sure I read that as both a hearty rejection and also an allusion to our lasting love. (Insert barfing noise). And that was that.

Except for a brief summer reunion...

Erik went on to marry the girl he dated immediately after me. Senior year for him was a pot-hazed time. We actually had a class together senior year but I had disdain for his druggy ways and poked fun at him with my friends. Rumor had it he was never prepared for his Calculus class. Ohh, the intrigue and the tragedy. Erik and his girlfriend got pregnant right away and his chances for college (remember, he was a math smartie pants) were dashed.

A couple months ago Erik and I found one another on Facebook. He has three kids (14, 12 and 2) and is re-married to the post-Becky girlfriend. Life has been difficult for him, his emails suggest, but he seems to be in a good place now. I wish I could tell you that 15 years after high school you'll be DONE with the drama from those days, or at least let go of some of that emotional baggage. To a large extent that is true. I have precious few high school memories. But, when it comes to the "first" sort of experiences, like Erik, our mind is careful to preserve those thoughts... and I'm glad of that.