The One That Got Away?

[€uroMeinke]

I thought I had “one that got away” – but when the moment came, I let her go.

Her name was Cyndi, though it should have been trouble. I met her in high school, though I don’t think she ever attended class. You might think I exaggerate this point, but honestly, I don’t think she was ever enrolled there.

Cyndi was every teenage boy’s dream, sexy, attractive, playful, and she new it, making her the ultimate tease. I longed for her even as I dated and fell in love with my high school sweetheart. We spent long evenings together, sipping wine, listening to music, chatting till 2:00 in the morning, when I had to bring her home and sober up for school the next morning.

She told remarkable stories, pathological liar that she was. The lives she lived, the experiences she detailed were far too complex and time consuming to fit into her 15 years. But I was painfully shy in high school, so I never tried to do anything more than spend time with her, listen to her stories, and plan how we would dress and look for the next event. Except for one moment, on my 18th birthday when I caught her in my arms and we kissed one of those remarkable first kisses that stop time and intoxicate you more than any drug. But it never went any further. It was a moment that vanished, perhaps both of us too embarrassed to admit it ever happen, or me too insecure to explore how mutual our feelings might be.

So off I went to college, where I talked about her constantly so that my roommates came to long for her as well despite being 2000 miles away. I couldn’t wait to get back home and find out the latest of where she was, what she was doing, and whether or not she was available. Of course during this time she was dating other friends of mine, so I held back and waited, biding my time.

But as my college days came to an end, I had met someone else who pulled at my heart. A friend of a friend through some bands we both knew. She was someone I could talk to for hours, she complemented me in every way, and I was falling for her. You know her here as Not Afraid. Of course it was then that Cyndi became available as I discovered in a trip to of all places Disneyland, where I took her home last. We sat in front of her house forever, and while again we did nothing more than talk, the confessionals made it clear she was interested in me.

I couldn’t sleep that night, my stomach in knots. I called Lisa the next day, and confessed my age-old-longings for Cyndi and my desire to pursue her. She remained quiet and stoic through that gut-wrenching phone call, and told me to go do what I had to do.

But I never called Cyndi, I never set out to see her again. The instant I hung up the phone I had a moment of both clarity and terror – I had made the wrong decision. Cyndi was an imaginary construct of all my unfulfilled desires. Lisa was real, was someone I loved, and just dumped in the most ungracious of ways.

I went to her house and waited for her to come home, to confess my regret and stupidity. Thankfully, she invited me into her Celica where she forgave me of my foolishness. I let one get away, but I almost lost one more precious.