While looking at a calendar tonight, I was struck with the impression that May 9th held some sort of significance for me. You know the feeling -- a date stands out for some reason and you don't have a clue why.
And then, I remembered. Ten years ago -- on May 9th 1991 -- I was "asked out" by my first boyfriend.
And yes, 1991 was ten years ago.
So I have this date in my mind and I realize that it's taking up precious real estate. May 9, 1991 is an illegal squatter, inhabiting the neural stoop where my zip code should be. Of course, because of this, all I can tell you about my zip is that it has a nine and a couple of fives in it. I think.
So this first boyfriend -- his name was Tim -- asked me over the phone "if I would go out with him." I of course, answered with an ecstatic "sure." Ours was a deep relationship. He asked me out because his two friends were going out with my two friends and, I guess, wanted a little eighth grade action.
Of course, I wasn't that kind of girl.
He dumped me soon after he realized this fact.
(and after I got him a Bulls Starter jacket)
But, I got over it.
Eventually.
I mean, how easy is it for a 13 year-old girl to get over her first boyfriend?
A few months ago I saw Tim at an Italian restaurant in Tiburon. I was with Ben and his sisters so, if any trouble arose, I had my posse. Of course, I wasn't even sure it was him since people change from fourteen to twenty-three.
Although I was almost positive, I needed some sort of confirmation:
Me: Ben, go over to that table and that guy if his name is Tim.
Ben: No!
Me: Yes! Go over and say your wife wants to know.
Ben: No.
Me: Say "Mena got over you and got married. How do you like them apples, buddy."
Ben: Oh yeah, I'm really going to say that.
Needless to say, Ben didn't have the desire, and I didn't have the guts to make this night very interesting.
So, I guess the moment was lost. And I soon realized that no matter how much I've moved on, that vengeful 13 year-old girl looking for payback is alive and well.
God bless her.
