For today’s post, I am reaching WAAAAAAY back into my memory file, though the whole thing was actually triggered by a very modern-day entity—FACEBOOK. But before I begin, I need to include the following disclaimer:
This is Melinda’s blog, written by Melinda, for the benefit of Melinda (mostly), based on Melinda’s memories. I write it because it helps me work things out in my mind and put things that need to be behind me, behind me. I write it to record important events that I feel have impacted my life and the lives of my family, whether I view that impact as positive or negative. I write it because I have always dreamed of being a “writer” and this type of forum allows me to exercise my love for written expression without having to deal with the rejection of publishers and critics. Having said all of that, if you are someone who is liable to remember things differently than me, or if you could possibly get all sideways because you think the way I remember something may put you in a negative light, then PLEASE, do us both a big favor and do not continue reading my blog. The stories I tell are based on my memories and the feelings and emotions those memories evoked. Both my memories and my feelings are valid,whether or not you want to acknowledge them as such and whether or not you remember things differently.
Alrighty, then… back to the post. As have a great number of today’s society members, no matter their ages, I have succumbed to the pull of Facebook. People use all sorts of reasons for using FB, from staying in touch with family members to re-connecting with old friends and acquaintances, to cyber-stalking. I personally don’t care why people use FB, it is their business, after all. I enjoy being able have conversations with people without having to actually see them or call them on the telephone. It is nice to be kept apprised of what is happening with family members and friends too, especially the ones you don’t live near anymore. I will admit, I check my FB page on a regular basis throughout the day. Sometimes I join in the conversations, and other times, I just sit back and “glean” knowledge that would have otherwise been unavailable to me. All in all, I would have to say that I consider FB to be “electronic eavesdropping”. I am constantly amazed at the stuff people will blurt out for the whole world to see. And, yes, I have resorted to blocking a couple of people who have “diarrhea of the brain” and post waaay TMI and then have the nerve to be upset and whine that everyone is always “in their business”. Over all, though, I think FB is a fun and valuable tool, when used appropriately.
One of the neat things FB does, is that it will make suggestions from the friend lists of your friends of people you may know and wish to reconnect with. That is what has triggered this particular post. Recently, as I was on FB, a name popped up as a friend suggestion. The name was not familiar to me, but it said that we had two friends in common, so I was curious. Well, I clicked on the name and discovered that it was actually a guy I had known when I was a teen-ager… one that I had unfortunately spent a lot of time and effort on. The reason I didn’t recognize the name is that he evidently goes by his first name now. When I knew him, he was known by his middle name.
As I realized who he was, a wave of memory washed over me. The feelings that accompanied the memory were strong enough to make me have to stop and catch my breath. Took me back to a place of confusion, longing, anticipation, disillusionment and deep hurt… a place I did not like re-visiting. You see, this fellow has the distinction of being the first boy I ever loved. And yes, it was love I felt. People through the years have tried to convince me that I was much too young at that point to really understand about love. And while I was very young when the whole thing started, I have always been blessed with the gift of knowing my own heart. So, no matter what anyone else wants to call it, I did love him.
I first fell for “Joey” (not his real name) when I was fifteen. Not really sure what made me look his way. He had just ended a pretty serious (as serious as kids that age can be) relationship with another girl. Something just drew me to him and I fell hard. As things go in most teen-age circles, when word got out that I had “a thing” for Joey, two of my so-called friends decided it was their duty to go to Joey and tell him so. After an initial awkwardness, Joey started letting me ride in his car when the “gang” went places and taking me home from church activities. He never indicated that he liked me as anything more than a friend, but he never told me to “get lost”, so I took his attention as positive. The more time that went by, the stronger my feelings became. The whole thing came to a head during a week at Youth Camp. Joey picked the third night of camp to tell me he was not interested in me “that” way. He had all kinds of reasons, he thought there was too much of an age difference (I was 15, he was 17), he was getting ready to go off to college, he didn’t think it would be fair for me to have to wait for him. He gave me all these other “reasons”, many of them seeming to hold a promise of a relationship somewhere in the future. It would have been so much better if he had just gone ahead and told the truth, that I was too fat and he didn’t want to have a relationship with me. Yes, it would have been hurtful and devastating to my 15-year-old psyche, but if he had told the truth, I could have dealt with it and gotten over it. As it was, his reasons with hidden meanings, set me up for YEARS of heartache.
So, Joey tells me halfway through camp that he doesn’t want a relationship, and I get to spend the rest of the week hurt and embarrassed. To make it worse, he tells my sister about our conversation, supposedly so she could “comfort” me. Well, as I’ve blogged before, my relationship with my sister was contentious, at best, so comfort is not usually what I got from her. I don’t remember that time being any different. So instead of being just hurt and embarrassed, I got to add humiliated to the list as well.
Now… if Joey would have left me alone and ignored me, that’s where the whole thing could have ended. But he continued being my chauffeur service and treating me as though there might be hope for us in the future. When summer ended and he was getting ready to go away to school, he told me that he would like for me to write to him. Of course, I assured him that I would. I remember that we were all going to give him a little going-away send-off. I told my mother that I was going to the store and get him a card. Instead of acknowledging that I was going to miss Joey when he left, her response was, “Don’t you go embarrassing him!” SIGH… nobody ever knew what he was telling me, so everybody just thought I was pitiful. I guess I was.
After Joey went off to college, I wrote him, just like I promised I would. We corresponded very regularly for that first year, and every time he would come home, he would take me places, talk to me, and lead me to believe that “our time” was coming. In fact, that Christmas he did something that made me SURE of it. He KISSED me! I had just turned 16 and it was my first “real” kiss. I was thrilled beyond belief. I just knew that a boy wouldn’t kiss a girl like that unless she was very special to him. Even now, at 53, I believe that it SHOULD be like that. Kisses should mean something… they should be special… not just another way of spending time together. I know how terribly old-fashioned that makes me sound. But I was so young and so terribly naïve, I couldn’t see that kissing didn’t mean the same thing to Joey as it did to me. I gave Joey credit for being a much nobler and more sensitive critter than he actually was.
Things continued this way from the time I was 15 until after I graduated from college. Joey would spend time with me whenever he came home from school and shower me with attention and affection, making me feel special and loved. But then he would go back to school and it would be like he had dropped off the planet. We wrote less and less, and eventually stopped altogether. I would make up my mind that I was DONE, and start trying to move on. But every time I would finally get fed up and be ready for Joey to “go ahead on with himself”, he would show up at my door, take me places, hug me, kiss me, and I would be hooked all over again. He never said that he loved me, but he said enough to keep me believing that there would be a future for us. The closest he ever came to it was when he found out I had been dating another boy. He got all wound up and said that he didn’t think I should see the guy anymore. I asked him, “Why not? You date other girls at school”, and he snapped, “Because I kind of like you!” (I know, it makes me sigh and roll my eyeballs too, now… unfortunately, at the time, I just knew it meant he wanted to be with me.) It must have really stroked Joey’s ego to have someone so hopelessly devoted to him. It took me a long time to realize that I was just his “always-be-there-whenever-I-want-her” girl. I am the one he would call when all of his other options ran out.
I know that you are wondering why anyone would allow herself to be treated so badly for such a long time. Well, you need to understand that I grew up believing that fat girls didn’t deserve and shouldn’t expect the same kind of love that the thin girls received. A girl could have a face that would stop a train, but if she was thin, she was automatically prettier than the fat girls. I was truly convinced that this kind of hand-me-down attention was the best I could hope for.
I guess the last time I saw Joey, I was 22 or 23. I had FINALLY decided that I was “done”, and had actually made great strides in finally putting Joey in my past. Then one night, he showed up at my front door and said he needed to talk to me. I let him in and he started the conversation with, “You know, I just don’t know what it was that EVER got us started. I never wanted to be anything more than friends… I believe it was always you pushing for more.” I said, “Joey, I have a lot of male friends and NONE of them ever kissed me the way you always did. That didn’t seem like friendship to me.” He gave me a stupidly sheepish grin and said, “Well, maybe you are right about that. Maybe I shouldn’t have done that.” Then he took a big breath and said, “I still want to see you, but I think it’s only fair to let you know that you are not the only horse in the race.” REALLY??!! First he wants to blame our whole pitiful relationship all on me and now he’s calling me a horse?! I couldn’t come up with any kind of intelligent reply to such a STUPID statement, so I didn’t say anything. He got ready to leave and asked if it would be okay for him to give me a hug. I told him I didn’t think it would be a good idea. He left, and as far as I can remember, that’s the last time I ever saw him. It was probably about three weeks later that his mother showed up at church with a newspaper clipping of Joey’s wedding announcement. I guess that whole last conversation must have been a stab of conscience for Joey, or some “loose ends” he felt needed tying up before he moved on with his life.
So why, you ask, am I digging all this up NOW?! Well, when Joey’s name popped up on FB, it brought back all the memories and feelings and it made me MAD! I hate that he strung me along like he did with a few stolen kisses here and there and pseudo-promises of something more, but never admitted to the outside world that he ever was even interested in me. It made it look for all those years that I was just a pitiful fat girl chasing someone I could never have. And I hate that I grew up believing that such treatment was all I deserved and could hope for. It colored the way I felt about life, about love and about myself. I deserved better than that!
The whole thing made me terribly suspicious of men and their motives. I remember the first time Ken went to put his arm around me. I jumped up and pointed my finger at him and said, “Listen, I don’t know where you think this is going, but I am interested in a real relationship, not just fun and games! If you are just playing with me, then you need to head on down the road!” Now, most men, especially that early in a relationship, would have tipped their hats and ridden off into the sunset. Ken just looked at me with those blue eyes that I so loved and said three words… “I ain’t playing.” (SIGH… it still makes me smile when I remember.) It was the first time I ever saw myself through Ken’s eyes – eyes of unconditional love. THAT is the kind of love I deserved!
So, what important life lessons can I take away from all of this? I guess the most important lessons are ones that I have been trying to teach my sons:
1. A woman’s worth is determined by her heart, not by the size or shape of her body.2. Girls look at things like kissing a lot differently than boys do. They give it much more weight in a relationship. Boys should be aware of this fact and treat girls with tenderness and respect.
If I am successful in passing on these truths to my sons, I will be able to see purpose in this whole pitiful tale. I can’t say that it was “worth it”, because it was hurtful and embarrassing and no one deserves such treatment. But if I can keep J & B from treating a young lady the way Joey treated me, then the lessons will outweigh the pain of the memory.
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