I do have to apologize to someone, for real this time. I have been giving this person so much shit about believing in the unbelievable, the fairytale, the fantasy, hoping for something that can never be. And then I realized that I’ve been doing the same thing myself for the better part of my life. I have always loved a man I can never be with. Does that make me a hyprocrite, or an idiot? I put the thoughts aside for a while, in favor of reality and the current goings on in my life, but whenever he surfaces, it reminds me of what we never got the chance to have. And seeing a similar situation turn out miserably for someone else makes me sad, because I know exactly how that feels.
His mother still refers to me as ‘that little girl in Texas’. That’s because the first time she met me, I was all of 15 years old. I was visiting my relatives for yet another summer in Jackson, MS. My family, being the Southern Baptists that they were, had enrolled me in vacation bible school. (Yes, those of you who know me now are thinking, Jenn in church? I assure you it was a major family event to attend church 3 times a week, and I was required to partake, positively against my will.) As you can imagine, I was not exactly the picture of an angel at that age, and neither were my friends. One of my girlfriends always brought her boyfriend to church with her – mostly so they could make out in the balcony. That summer, he brought a friend with him for the week. And that’s where I met Jay.
He was quiet and reserved at first, but I caught him giggling quietly at inappropriate moments and wanted to join in. My twisted sense of humor developed at a young age. We didn’t talk much during most of the week, he seemed withdrawn and sad. I found out later that was just a ploy to get my attention. Worked like a charm. I approached him and we started talking. Turned out he had just been dumped by his girlfriend, or so the story goes, who lived in another state. I immediately went into ‘aww, you poor thing’ mode, as girls tend to do. God we’re easy.
The last night of the church school was a pool party, followed by a lock-in at the church – if you’re unfamiliar with those, it’s like a big overnight slumber party, supervised by adults of course. Baptists are no fun. I ended up riding to the pool party with Jay and we talked and laughed the whole time. My family didn’t think it appropriate for a girl my age to be riding in a car with a boy. He was older than me, he had just turned 19. The slight age difference came to be a problem later on, but at that moment, we were enjoying the company.
We went to the party, swam in the pool, ate pizza I think, the details are fuzzy after so many years, but I remember that butterfly feeling I had the first time he reached over and held my hand. I remember giggling with my friend in the bathroom, whose name escapes me now, about how cute he was and I wonder if he likes me, all those silly little things that teenage girls do. We all went back to the church for overnight movies and popcorn. He and I cuddled up together and talked all night.
The next day he called, and we went out on our very first date. I still remember it – we had dinner at Bennigan’s and went to see Ghost Busters. Geez, I am so old! He was such a smartass, and I really loved that about him, but he was also very sweet and sincere. We had everything in common, we were eye to eye on most everything. We saw each other every day for the rest of that summer. We spent the 4th of July together at the Reservoir. I met his parents. He met my family. We were together all the time. When it came time for me to go home, I was the saddest I had ever been. But we stayed in touch via phone and writing – this was back in the day before email and internet had been invented, so you had to actually write letters and send them in the mail, remember that? I kept all of his letters. I would still have them today if they hadn’t been misplaced in a move some years ago. My mother’s phone bill was huge and she was not happy with me, but I didn’t care. I was in love.
He came to visit on spring break and stayed with me at my mother’s house. We watched bad B movies, went to a Mavs game with my dad, and we just enjoyed spending our time together. I went back to Mississippi the following summer, as well as the one after that. Although we didn’t spend a great deal of time together, usually 2 months at a time, we had a connection that I’ve yet to find with anyone else. I have always thought of him as my soul mate. We were so in love, and nothing else mattered. We just knew that we were destined to be together.
We broke up here and there, but mostly kept a steady long-distance relationship for the better part of 3 years. And we’d never even had sex at that point, which is the most amazing part of it all. Having a connection with someone that is so far beyond the physical is so wonderful, it’s hard to describe.
And when we finally had sex, it ruined everything.
I was 18 and out of school, living with a friend and working as a waitress. I saved up all of my tip money for 6 months to take a week’s vacation to go there and see him. This was the big one - he asked me to marry him that week, and gave me the most beautiful ring from his mother’s antique shop. We finally slept together, and it was awesome. A little too awesome. He was a virgin. I was the first girl he had ever slept with, and when I went home with my engagement ring and a couple of hickeys, he couldn’t stand that I was gone, so he cheated. I understand it now, but at 18, I was angry and hurt. It really was just sex, and I get that. We broke up over it. I sent the ring back. I was crushed.
Of course there was the other side of it too, which was trying to decide where we were going to live when we got married. I knew where we’d get married – in the backyard of his mother’s house in Jackson. I pictured it, I knew exactly every little detail of the wedding and how it would be. But I didn’t want to move to Mississippi, and he wasn’t moving to Texas.
A few months after the break up, I met my first husband and we were married and pregnant within a year. I just needed to replace him, and I took the first thing that came along. We stayed in touch over the years, I sent him pictures of my daughter, Lauran; he wrote me the sweetest letters and poems, he was always thoughtful like that. When my husband and I split up 2 years later, I was hoping for a reconciliation. But he was seeing someone when I called and couldn’t get away to visit me. A few months passed and my divorce was final. I called his mother’s house to see how he was doing, and she answered the phone. I asked to speak to him. She said, “Oh, didn’t you hear? He got married.” Did I hear? No, I’m afraid he failed to mention that little tidbit. I thought I was actually going to choke.
I ended up married again about a year later, this time for 11 years. I had 2 more children, Emily and Christopher. I lost touch with Jay for many years, as we were both married and had families of our own. Then one night in 1998 I had a dream about him, and started wondering how he was all over again. My 30th birthday was approaching and I felt a loss without him all those years. With the invention of the internet, I was able to get a phone number and an address for him in Mississippi. I wrote him a letter, filling him in on the past several years of my life. I included my phone number, but really never thought I would hear from him. A week later, he called, and it was as if we’d never lost touch.
We met in Shreveport for my birthday and spent the day together. It was an innocent meeting of two old friends who hadn’t seen each other in a while. Well, we tried to make it that. We shared stories and pictures of our families, remembered old times and tried to keep those old feelings at bay. It didn’t work very well. We both went home very sad and confused. We stayed in touch for a few months after that, but it was hard to be just friends as we always were so much more. We resolved ourselves to knowing that we will always love each other, if only from a distance. He was always the person I thought of, in many situations. Every song, every book, every story reminded me of him for so many years. It’s hard to explain it, but I’m sure some people reading this know what I’m talking about.
In the wake of the recent hurricane in the South, I felt the need to contact him again, to make sure he and his family were safe. They are, and now that I’ve talked to him, I have all those feelings again that I’ve had since I was 15 but hadn’t thought about in a while. What a surprise that they just won’t go away.
I’ve had other men come and go over the past few years. No one has quite lived up to the ideal that I have in my head. The fantasy we’ve lived with for so long is probably far better than the reality could have ever been. At least that’s how we remember it. But I sure hope that someday, we’ll get to find out for sure. I still love him. I think I always will. Grab your tissues. Jenn’s sentimental today.
