Yesterday as I walked through the aisles of Shoes on a Shoestring, I found myself face to face with an old middle/high school classmate. I had become "best friends" with this girl for a short time in the 6th grade. Then, spontaneously it seemed to me, she decided that actually, she hated me. I moved on easily enough from that news, but then she did something completely unforgiveable. She started "going out" with That Boy--the one everyone, especially me, wanted. I believe I had expressed some of my feelings about This Boy to her at some time. So I spent a couple of months of eighth grade hiding during lunch so I wouldn't have to see She-who-must-not-be-named holding hands with That Boy. Of course they broke up, and she actually did apologize to me during the Homecoming Dance of freshman year of high school, where I happened to look drop-dead gorgeous, if I do say so myself, and happened to have a male date. During high school I never went out of my way to talk to her, but if I had to talk to her, I was perfectly civil.
I admit that I've fantasized a bit about running into old friends and foes and thought about what I'd say. It should be easy--I am the picture of success. I dress well, I finally figured out how to do my hair, lost the braces and glasses, discovered makeup, and I have plenty to brag about. And especially with this girl, I had an ace up my sleeve (or some other really high value card). I could tell her that, why, actually, yes, I am still in touch with That Boy. I have quite a nice email correspondence with him, and we talk on the phone, and I actually travelled across the country last year to visit him in person. How sweet it would be to see the look on her face at the news that I still call That Boy a friend.
But I didn't tell her this, and I didn't do any bragging. The moment I saw those familiar bug eyes, I quickly brushed past her, and walked quickly (not running!) away. Like getting caught in the eye of the basilisk, I turned to stone--or rather, I turned back into the little insecure, hurt, and humiliated 13 year old girl. Despite all the strides I've made in self confidence and social skills over the years, this girl still struck me dumb. Just like I hid from her little clique in middle school, yesterday I hid behind my sister in another part of the shoe store.
Not to sound like Carrie Bradshaw with her annoying rhetorical questions, but can we ever really move past our childhood insecurities? Why do we have to regress so much back into those roles from which we've tried so hard to move? When all my uncles get together, it's remarkable to watch how they immediately shift back into their childhood roles. And apparently this happens even outside the family context. I've imagined myself walking into a high school reunion in a fabulous dress with a fabulous date, but now I don't know if that's even possible. I mean, I actually really enjoyed high school and had some great times. No one ever teased me or anything, but I was not popular and I'm sure I annoyed many people with my incessant over-achieving.
But recently I've become, at least superficially, much more the picture of the gregarious, hard-bodied, outgoing popular girl. I've definitely moved beyond my middle/high school persona, but it is still lurking somewhere just below the surface, waiting to pop out at any inopportune moment and sabotage me. It popped up yesterday, and even 8 years removed from when my ex-best-friend stole my boy, apparently it still matters. We can move on all we want and grow and change, but those silly adolescent insecurities remain.
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Although this is not the blog I enjoyed the most it was the only one I felt compelled to comment on. I have a funny anecdote relating to this very topic. I too since high school have become about 100 fold more confident and thought I was passed all the high school bullshit. However, I was in Corpus Christi’s H-E-B Plus (H-E-B has a monopoly is South Texas) and I ran into a guy I briefly had a crush on in high school although not cute I enjoyed his wit. However, all of a sudden I was nerdy, very insecure Curran again. Not only did I act ridiculous, I had a basket full of women products, non-alcoholic champagne, and party supplies for my fam of three. He had a cart full of beer. I introduced my sister and I could tell he was astounded that she was even related to me, with her good looks and cute clothing. That night I was very ashamed of myself for that happening and drank entirely too much. I don’t think that it will ever go away, but I also have no desire to live in either of the towns where I experienced adolescent hell so I guess I will be okay.
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