ranor's Reading Room
Remember the boy (or I guess in some of your cases, the girl) that made your heart stop, look both ways, and make a 3-point turn back in middle school? The bombshell, the hottie, the would-be meaningless fuck (if you were the type to use those words back then)? Remember how he made you feel inside when he looked your way? Remember how every single stupid thing that came out of his mouth would be something you would totally find repugnant had it not been from his lips those words arose? Remember how he kinda faded into obscurity when you graduated from the eighth grade despite his veritable superstar status, the votes from your cardiac (and gonadal) cells crowning him your body's American Idol?
I saw him today. And while I still maintain that the other he was my first boy-love, I admit that this he was definitely my first boy-want-to-fuck.
Eight years. Eight fucking years have passed and it felt like only a week after we graduated with the way we carried on. Still, I wonder if he ever figured me out (in spite of the fact that I never actually was out at that time, though I did drop hints like crazy), moreover how he feels about it if he did.
I expect to run into many other faces from the past. Especially now that I've returned to this place: the Place Where My Dreams Go to Die. Or at least, Where They Go to Take a Long Rest...