Everyone told me I needed to get on facebook. “You can look up all the people you haven’t talked to! Like people from college and high school!” The reason I didn’t join facebook is because it’s simply the next generation of computer communication. When I got to college, we all discovered email – which wasn’t all that mainstream in 1996. All the people I went to high school with and still talked to used email. The rest, didn’t use it. Then instant messenger became popular, and it was just all the people who used email. The people I stopped talking to are the people who never use the computer to communicate, period.
I made an effort in college to send emails to people and see who used it to keep in touch. I had plenty of time to do it, working in the computer lab my sophomore year. So I’m sure I sent one to The First Girl.
I met The First Girl my sophomore year of high school. She was gorgeous, smart, funny, way out of my league. To say I had a crush on her would be an understatement. She was The First Girl I was in love with. We had one glorious weekend together that sophomore year, but never a relationship. Of course, I was too stupid to tell her how I feel and ask her out, I kept just waiting for something to just happen.
By the time I graduated, I was getting over her, realizing it wasn’t meant to be. I went to college, sent that email (like many others) and never made any effort to contact her again. I don’t think about her. It’s the past.
My last contact with her came in the summer before my senior year of college. I was with this girl, Jennie, whom I had run into her a few weeks earlier. She too was beautiful and out of my league. Again, too stupid/afraid to actually say the words “will you go out with me?” we hung out a couple times. Way back in high school, Jennie ran in the same circle with The First Girl. We were leaving her place, one summer day when she said “Hold on, I need to stop by the pool and talk to someone.”
As we opened the gate of the pool, she casually threw out there “You know The First, right?”
“The First?” I asked.
“Girl,” she responded. And there was The First Girl, a life guard. The two of them talked. I didn’t realize they were still friends. I just stood there, silently. Jennie said, “Well, I’m going to get some dinner with Kev and then we’re going to a movie.”
“Kev?” The First Girl asked.
“Kev Fu” Jennie replied, with that what-are-you-stupid-question tone.
“You still talk to him?” The First Girl responded.
“Uh, he’s right here,” Jennie said, pointing out that I was indeed standing in front of her face. In her defense, my hair was about six inches shorter, I was wearing sunglasses, and someone taught me how to dress myself since she had last seen me.
We exchanged a couple pleasantries, The First Girl told us to have fun, and we left.
That was over nine years ago. I haven’t even been back into that town more than twice in the last three years. My last trip, I was going to Tom’s wedding. And Delta forgot to put my suitcase with the plane with me. So, while my parents are driving a rental car towards the old mall, I’m frantically pulling up the online directory of the mall to find out if the Men’s Wearhouse is still there, and where it is, since I never bought a suit until I left town.
My web search brought up the mall’s staff directory first. And right before I clicked off the page, something caught my eye. Girl is not a common last name. So I figured The First Girl on my screen was probably The First Girl I fell in love with, and was now the PR rep for the mall.
While I never made The First Girl love me back, I definitely made her mom love me, and in the very same mall. The First Girl had an older sister. I actually had a class with Sister of the Girl, and we did not get along. Probably because she knew I was after her younger sister. Shortly after our one glorious weekend, I was walking through the mall and saw The First Girl, walking with Her Mom. I went up to The First Girl, kissed her on the cheek and she looked absolutely horrified I’d do that in front of Her Mom. Her Mom was giving me the evilest look I’ve ever seen. I smiled at her, my face beaming, and I said “And you must be Sister of the Girl. Nice to finally meet you.”
She’s loved me ever since. It’s my only fond memory of that mall.
In the back of the rental car, I bookmarked the webpage, found what I was looking for, and was trying on suits before the store closed.
A few days later, I figured what the hell and sent her an email. I asked if it was her, how she was doing and told her how I stumbled upon her name. She replied about two weeks later, and asked how I was doing, what I was up to, etc. I answered the questions and asked more back. Still haven’t heard back from her. But that’s to be expected. She never was a computer person.
It’s funny. All the time I’ve never used facebook, myspace, or the internet to hunt down old friends… I stumble upon her email by accident. And she probably still thinks I’m a stalker.