logo by Tuesday, October 25, 2005
She was born on February 4th, 1975, which means she's 30 years old now.
Damn. How times flies.
The last time I saw her, hugged her, felt her body against mine, she was only 18. And I was 23.
Her name was S. She was the younger sister of my ex-girlfriend.
Everyone knew that S and I had a thing for each other. My girlfriend knew. Her parents knew. My parents knew.
I guess it was pretty obvious. When S and I would hug, it was always just a little too close. And a little too long.
I would go over to their house even if my girlfriend wasn't around, just to see S.
But for some reason nobody seemed to mind. Everyone thought it was cute.
My girlfriend used to get a kick out of tricking me into revealing my naughty thoughts about her younger sister.
Once when I spent the night over at their house, it was S, not my girlfriend, who came downstairs to hang out with me after everyone had gone to bed.
It was S who was always the first to invite me to family events. She invited me to her high-school graduation, her birthday parties, her high-school play. And I went.
When my girlfriend broke up with me it was S who cried and cried when she found out that I wouldn't be coming over anymore for family dinners.
And their mother all but told me flat out that I was more than welcome to date S if her older daughter was crazy enough to dump me.
But it wasn't meant to be.
Or at least...it never happened. Whether it was meant to be is something I guess I'll never know for sure.
After her sister and I broke up, S and I started emailing each other. We wrote long, drawn-out letters to each other.
But by then I had moved to a far-away city. The long distance was part of what contributed to her sister and I breaking up, and I vowed to myself that I would never, ever, get involved in another long-distance relationship.
But a man sees things differently at different stages in his life.
I would have been S's first boyfriend. Now I wonder how many guys she's had. Is she married? Does she have kids? A career?
Eventually we drifted apart. The emails became less frequent. And then they stopped. I met my wife-to-be. And life moved on.
Damn. How times flies.
The last time I saw her, hugged her, felt her body against mine, she was only 18. And I was 23.
Her name was S. She was the younger sister of my ex-girlfriend.
Everyone knew that S and I had a thing for each other. My girlfriend knew. Her parents knew. My parents knew.
I guess it was pretty obvious. When S and I would hug, it was always just a little too close. And a little too long.
I would go over to their house even if my girlfriend wasn't around, just to see S.
But for some reason nobody seemed to mind. Everyone thought it was cute.
My girlfriend used to get a kick out of tricking me into revealing my naughty thoughts about her younger sister.
Once when I spent the night over at their house, it was S, not my girlfriend, who came downstairs to hang out with me after everyone had gone to bed.
It was S who was always the first to invite me to family events. She invited me to her high-school graduation, her birthday parties, her high-school play. And I went.
When my girlfriend broke up with me it was S who cried and cried when she found out that I wouldn't be coming over anymore for family dinners.
And their mother all but told me flat out that I was more than welcome to date S if her older daughter was crazy enough to dump me.
But it wasn't meant to be.
Or at least...it never happened. Whether it was meant to be is something I guess I'll never know for sure.
After her sister and I broke up, S and I started emailing each other. We wrote long, drawn-out letters to each other.
But by then I had moved to a far-away city. The long distance was part of what contributed to her sister and I breaking up, and I vowed to myself that I would never, ever, get involved in another long-distance relationship.
But a man sees things differently at different stages in his life.
I would have been S's first boyfriend. Now I wonder how many guys she's had. Is she married? Does she have kids? A career?
Eventually we drifted apart. The emails became less frequent. And then they stopped. I met my wife-to-be. And life moved on.
