(Let’s start a post related to the 70’s with some bad 70’s
music)
Feelings,
nothing more than feelings,
Trying to forget my feelings …...*
Trying to forget my feelings …...*
One of my responsibilities for our 40th year
high school reunion was to collect ticket money for the event. It was exciting to see which classmates were
attending when the mail arrived each day. Some of these people I had not seen
in 40 years. But one envelope caught my
attention before I even opened it. I
stared at the return address. Connie is coming, wow, all the way from Wyoming.
(name and location changed)
This was somehow significant for me. She could be considered a first love, an old
flame, or whatever, and I had not seen her in 40 years. As I recorded her reservation, I noted that
her husband would not be traveling to Ohio, but her sister would be attending
the event with her.
For some unknown reason, I kept thinking about Connie and
our past relationship over the next several days. Not because I still had feelings for
her. Obviously, I did not. If I did, that would be ridiculous because it
had been 40 years and there is a definite statute of limitations on
feelings. So definitely no feelings, no
feelings whatsoever.
But it did bother me that I was unable to remember how the
relationship actually ended. We had
casually kept in contact for a time after graduation. Connie was going to a nearby college and we
exchanged letters, though not love letters, throughout the summer. The romantic interest had faded by that time,
but I guess we were both just keeping our options open. However, the letters stopped in the early
fall, 39 years ago. I didn’t know who
ended it or why, but I didn’t think it was me. Of course, I have no idea why I
can remember these old details when I can’t even remember important stuff that
happened last week, but it is definitely not because I still have any feelings,
because I don’t. No, no feelings.
Then surprisingly, the mystery about how the relationship
ended was soon revealed. A couple weeks
before the reunion, Stuts (his real name is Tim, but he deserves a cool nickname),
had published an e-directory of information he had collected from our classmates.
I read that Connie has been married for 39 years. Now I don’t need my MBA degree, my keen data
analysis skills or even a calculator to figure this one out. Still, I took some solace in the fact that I
was not rejected, but replaced. And this
fact was meaningless in the big picture,
since all my other options closed a mere seven months after the letters stopped
when I met my wife-to-be.
As the reunion approached, I felt some uneasiness about
seeing Connie again. Not because I still
had any feelings toward her, because I don’t, but because I thought it could
feel awkward. And I hate feeling
awkward, because it’s so awkward feeling awkward. It’s even awkward for me to write about
feeling awkward.
In order to deal with this anxiety, I told myself that the
relationship was not substantial, was brief and really hadn’t meant anything to
me. Maybe we were both just pretending.
In actuality, it wasn’t even real. This new perspective was effective and I
calmed down.
So, there was absolutely no reason to fear anything about
Saturday night. Connie’s husband would not be there, so there would be no
awkward comparisons. Not that I was
worried about that, being a noted author and all. And there were no feelings, none at all, hey
no worries, no problems.
Still, just to make sure there were no awkward moments, I
thought it best to devise a master plan on how I should interact with Connie
that evening. Not that I am a control
freak, or anything resembling a control freak, because I’m not. The plan was necessary to make the evening go
smoothly and not because I have any old feelings for her, because I don’t.
I would greet Connie with the obligatory “It’s so great to
see you again” and customary hug. I then
would tell her “we’ll talk some later”. As one of the hosts for the event, I would
then excuse myself to greet other new arrivals.
After dinner, I would go over to Connie’s table and engage in short,
polite, conversation and then disengage. I would not introduce her to my wife,
because there is absolutely no need for that.
Because that would be extremely awkward and I really wanted to avoid
that.
The big night arrived and I was in the middle of a lively
conversation, when I glanced over and saw her. Our eyes did not meet as much as
they locked. I think engineers used this type of human response when they
invented missile radar locking systems.
My current conversation ended abruptly. Can’t remember who I was talking
with or what I was talking about, heck I don’t know, maybe I even stopped
mid-sentence.
I was immediately drawn across the room, I think this is
the concept scientists used when they invented magnetism. No words were spoken
before the hug. The hug was surreal,
there was no tension, it was relaxed, it was totally natural.
Feelings,
wo-o-o feelings,
Wo-o-o, feel you again in my arms*
Wo-o-o, feel you again in my arms*
Connie seemed delighted to see me. Of course, I was happy
to see her, but not that happy, because I have no feelings. No feelings, nope,
don’t feel it.
After the hug, I told her how good it was to see her and
that we would talk more later. Just as
planned, more guests arrived and I excused myself to greet them. I love it when
my plans work perfectly. I was feeling good and even a little smug, at this
point.
But the evening was about to take a bizarre turn and spiral
completely out of control. I was in the
back corner of the hall munching on some free appetizers (they were homemade by
classmates) and talking sports with the husband of a classmate, when I almost
chocked on my cheese chunk.
Way over in the far opposite corner, all by themselves, I
saw my wife and Connie engaged in conversation.
How was this even possible? As
planned, I had not even introduced them earlier, but they had apparently met on
their own and were now talking up a storm.
My superb plan had started to unravel like an old sweater.
“What could they be talking about?”
I wondered. My first inclination was to sprint over there and put a stop to
this. Then I realized they might be talking
about me. That possibility made me consider running out the back door and never
coming back.
And this just wasn’t polite, “I just met you” conversation,
either. There were laughing and chatting
just like best friends. Again, how is
this even possible? They just met and
they have nothing, absolutely nothing, in common, right? Oh --- oh, oh, oooooh. Okay, so apparently, I have a “type” – a
personality type, if you will. I would strongly
have denied this was the case before that evening. But now it appears that obviously, I do, and I
never deny things that are obvious.
It was impossible for me to concentrate of my conversation
with this distraction happening in my sight line. I was glancing over every twenty seconds or
so, hoping desperately that Connie and my wife would stop yacking away. Finally, after what seemed liked hours to me,
they had parted.
However, a few minutes later, as I continued to hob nob with
my classmates, I noticed my wife quickly walking towards me with a big smile on
her face. She obviously had something
important to tell me, what could it be?
“Good news, Connie and her sister are going to sit with
us!” she exclaimed. I smiled wildly and
proclaimed. “That’s great!” She then
turned and departed.
Great, that is just great. Really, really, great. It was
amusing that my wife was so happy that her new best friend was going to sit
with us. But now my seemingly perfect plan
was holding together as well as a seeding dandelion in a tornado. I began to experience a mild panic
attack. My pulse quickened, my breathing
intensified and I felt my blood pressure rising. I attempted self-talk to calm down “It’s going
to be okay. You can do this. Everything will be fine”, I told myself. And that worked, the panic attack stopped,
for about all of 30 seconds, until I remembered:
The joke, the joke, THE JOKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
After dinner, Stuts and I were doing a short comedy routine
(with me wearing a hippie wig). We would
state some interesting facts about our classmates (from Stuts’ e-directory) and
then make some funny quips about them.
Stuts had
Stuts: “Connie lives on a ranch in some place called
Middle-of-Nowhere, Wyoming and rides horses every day.
Me: You know, I really liked her in high school. In fact, I planned to marry her.
Stuts: Well that explains it!
Me: Explains what?
Stuts: She obviously moved to Wyoming so you couldn’t find
her and those horses are for a fast getaway, if you ever did!
There was no way, absolutely no way, to tell that joke with
my wife and Connie seated a few feet from each other. I knew the joke could upset my wife, and was
taking an obvious risk. The joke could
also embarrass Connie, but I never anticipated her sitting at my table. This had the potential for a huge
disaster. My master plan was now subject
to a nuclear explosion, fortunately I was in control of the detonator.
As a more severe panic attack started, I needed to find
Stuts right away to tell him we had to cut that joke from the routine!
- Will
Don be stupid enough to actually tell that joke?
- What
is going to happen at that table during dinner?
- What
40-year old secret will be revealed?
Watch for the thrilling conclusion in Part Two of this post
coming to the blog site soon!
* lyrics by Morris
Albert
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