Diary Friday: “I don’t lie on my bed dreaming of a sudden dalliance”

I’m all emotional today because I hung out with Keith M. for a marathon 10 hours … he was in town this week, and we met up, and had this awesome time together, and … he’s my childhood friend. It’s a strange thing. I’ll write about it more when I’m not so under-slept, over-whelmed, hung-over … and any other unders and overs you can think of.

I wrote about Keith M. and who he was to me here (and, I guess, who he still is to me).

See, I’m all teary-eyed right now. How often in life do we get such a chance? To reunite with an old old friend … someone who “knew you when” … and not just in a superficial way – or not just a catch-up talk at a high school reunion (although our last reunion was really intense – for both of us – we talked about that too) – but a serious re-connecting? Like in a real life kind of way? I just feel so lucky, so happy right now, and I’m crying. I obviously have a lot of great friends from childhood, who are still my friends today. Thank you, God. These people are my rocks, my anchors, my dearest friends. Betsy and Michele – from grade school, and then Beth and Mere from junior high. Keith and I talked a lot about that, and why such friendships are so poignant – and important – like what exactly is it … it’s not just nostalgia. It is something else.

We hashed that one out yesterday (in about hour 2 of our marathon day) – sitting on a bench in Central Park, watching little kids play – just like he and I used to play. There were kids on the swings, kids chasing each other, sliding down slides … and I was listening intently to Keith, commenting, talking, listening, nodding, all that stuff – but I was also sitting there, and seeing in my minds eye the ghosts of us – when we were little … at recess … doing the very things the kids around us were doing at that very moment. Chasing each other, screaming, dangling precariously from jungle gyms, running as fast as we could, etc. Keith is a man now. I’m a woman. But we were children together and … those kids we once were … are still there, they are still us, they are part of us. Maybe that’s why I’m writing this with tears streaming down my face. I talked with Keith, and I knew him, even with the “20 year gap” in our friendship. Amazing. I just feel so freakin’ lucky. We have grown and matured … but he is that person I remember from 2nd grade, 3rd grade, high school. There is a continuum here – a piece of myself that is somehow contained in Keith.

We are not islands. Memory is a collective thing. Little pieces of who we are, memories … are contained in other people, not just in our own minds. Like we were just batting back and forth the memories yesterday, throwing out names, telling stories, having the past wash over us, bolts from the blue – “remember that??” Talking with Keith for 10 straight hours yesterday was not hard at all. There wasn’t one awkward silence. We got into it, man. hahaha Like – no small talk. We went right to it. Politics, God, relationships, our childhood, issues we struggle with – who we are – our flaws – what we want – our dreams – sex, life … It was a marathon. Lots of laughter, too. He said to me within the first 5 minutes of seeing each other, “It is my goal that by the end of the night you will either be crying – or laughing so hard you piss your pants.” hahahaha It was that kind of reconnection. And we could have kept going. It’s just that it finally was 1 a.m. and we were wiped out. I need to just let this percolate for a while. It was so so good to see him, sweet, strong, intense, poignant, and also just plain old fun. How much fun it was to sit in a bar with Keith – KEITH! – my childhood friend! – and drink beer, and talk like maniacs about our lives?

So in honor of him, and to embarrass him – here are a couple of Diary Friday entries – I’ve posted them before … apparently I wrote about Keith in my diary a lot as a high schooler … this was something I did not remember. I always had a fondness for Keith, I always liked him – but after grade school, our cliques diverged … but I was always aware of him. Not in a stalker kind of way – just a kind of familiarity that I found comforting. And also (judging from these diary entries) exhilarating.

But first: a picture of us then. And I’m bummed – we kept saying we needed to take a picture of us together now – but we were just so wrapped up in our conversation for 10 hours that we never took the picture. I did take a picture of his back as he walked away from me in one of the bars we hung out in. Yes, there was more than one bar. hahaha But it’s a blurry cell phone photo …

These two entries are from my junior year in high school:

NOVEMBER

WHAT A DAY!! I’ve got to tell you! Have I told you about Keith M? It feels like I have. He is — the — (I swear to God) nicest guy at our school. Wow. My heart almost hurts. He is gonna grow up to be one fantastic guy. He already is. It’s unusual. I mean, the popular guys in our class – they’re nice and everything – but not very sensitive. It seems like they make fun of everyone. They can be mean. But Keith! KEITH! What a name. [Uhm, okay – not only am I probably embarrassing Keith reading this, but now I’M embarrassed. It’s the “What a name” moment that got me. Okay, onward.] He never makes fun of freshmen or unpopular kids. He’s nice to everyone. But he’s not overly sweet. He’s sort of a tough guy, you know? [I ADORE my complex character analysis here.]

He’s in my Chemistry and Math. He is a good student. He wants to understand and do well. It gives me a thrill whenever he says my name. [AHHHHH! How embarrassing!!] It’s like: “He knows who I am!” But of course he does! I’ve been in his class since first grade. We were a “couple” in 4th grade. (Really heavy stuff. You know. I stole his comb and giggled when he came near me.) But in junior high, I drifted apart from all my old friends. They all became popular – Keith, Andrew – but now – this year, I just love being in classes with him. My old childhood friend.

I keep thinking I’ve told you this! [Er – I believe the “you” is referencing my journal] There’s that moment in gym class – where a retarded kid showed up and he’d be doing his best, and everyone would be snickering- but Keith M. sat there, staunchly, firmly, calling out, “Great cut! Okay! Keep your eye on the ball! That’s it!” You know — pep talk. Whatever. GOD.

Keith M. has such a great start on being human. I told my mom that story about Keith in gym class and she went, “Now him. He will grow up to be an even nicer man.” She’s right. He’s so friendly. We can talk to each other. I don’t know. I feel comfortable with him.

[I have to just interject here. The fact that I wrote about Keith M so much and so rapturously in my journals is kind of surprising to me – not that he isn’t a worthy object – but that I don’t remember doing so. I don’t remember having RAVED about him so consistently – his name comes up constantly in these old journals – and it’s really amazing to look back and go: “Wow. He really meant a lot to me. Who knew??”]

I had gone on a field trip today with Drama to see Glass Menagerie and I came home and wondered who to call from Math to find out what I missed. I really don’t know anyone in my class, not well enough to call anyway – so I thought of Keith – not that I know Keith like a brother – but God, the opportunity was there – I grabbed it. I was nervous though. I practiced what I would say. O God! [I am striking myself as unbelievably sweet here. Also, I love that I didn’t write “Oh God” but I wrote “O God” … it’s a much more dramatic and poetic spelling, which was completely appropriate – seeing as I WAS ABOUT TO CALL KEITH M! I was so dramatic. Sheesh] I looked up his number.

I remember every second of this phone call. Keith has a distinct way of talking. His voice … it sounds – not sharp – but clear. He is the best looking boy in our class, I swear. Heart pounding, I said to myself, “Cut it out, Sheila!” and dialed.

It rang twice.

“Hello?” It was his father, I guess. I could hear the news on in the background. Just saying, “May I please speak to Keith” gave me a heart attack. What was he thinking as he came to get the phone? Would he be bummed out that it was me? But really what I was thinking was just his name … Keith. [Sheila, his name is Keith. Please get over it.]

“Just a minute,” and he went off to get Keith and I thought, “Oh my God, he’s home!” I wasn’t nervous – just – I don’t know. I really like him. But 4th grade is so far away now.

There was a pause – then I heard this sort of close voice, “Yeah! I got it!” His sharp clear voice. He picked up the phone. [Listen to how I am writing about this – I am writing as though calling Keith to get the math homework is literally the biggest cliffhanger ever. O God!] He said “Hello?”

I pushed on – “Hi Keith? This is Sheila from Math class.” Dumb thing to say. We have been friends since six-year-old-dom. But he said, “Oh! Hi!” Really friendly. Not sort of suspicious, like: “Oh no – what does she want?” I once called Andrew in the 6th grade – Mary Lou answered and went running off screaming, “ANDREW! IT’S A GIRL!” [hahahahahahaha]

I said, “Uh … I was wondering, since I wasn’t there today if we had a quiz or what the homework is …”

“Oh – okay. Uh …”

I love how — I just — He just was so nice – very amiable. I have such an inferiority complex, especially with boys. I think everyone’s suspicious of me. And I think that if they guess that I like them – they will be bummed out about it. It’s weird.

He said, “We didn’t have a quiz today but I believe we’re having a test on Friday and – okay, the homework is the – uh – Chapter Review – Chapter Summary – whatever, and that’s on page … Do you have your book with you?”

[Look at that. I have almost no memory of this enormous cliffhanger of a moment in my life – but I would bet that that’s almost word for word what Keith said. I had a knack – and still have it – for remembering conversations, no matter how benign or trivial – with word to word detail.]

“Uh – no -” I whipped out a pencil to mark it down. He said, “Well, it’s either on 109 or 129 – I’m not sure – but one of those.” I wrote that down quickly on my Glass Menagereie program and said, “Okay. Got it. Thanks a lot, Keith.” “Yeah, sure.” “Okay. Bye.” “Bye.”

AND THEN WE HUNG UP!

[If you could only see how huge those letters are in my journal. Hahahaha They’re enormous. I am shouting “AND THEN WE HUNG UP”. As though hanging up the phone is the most AMAZING development in this whole cliffhanger.]

Keith seems so natural – not inhibited – I can’t explain this. I don’t idolize him – even though I sit here going, “HE KNOWS WHO I AM!” It’s not like that. I don’t idolize him. I just care for him. He is special. That’s all. His whole personality. I know that conversation doesn’t sound thrilling – but Diary – all the other guys – I mean, I don’t know if they even know who I am – but you had to have been on that phone. He was not – Okay. I know. I remember. I know why he’s different, and special. That’s what matters. I mean, I don’t think he likes me or anything, but it is the fact that he treats me so kindly, like a pal, like a friend – It comes so easily to me when I am with him. With all other boys – even the ones I grew up with – it’s always so weird and awkward. They act like I want something from them – just by talking to them. Keith never does that. Conversation comes naturally with us. Me, Keith, and Bill always end up sitting near each other because of our last names. That last sentence had awful grammar, and sorry about that. Anyway, in Chemistry, I sit in back of Bill who sits in back of Keith. One day, Mr. Amoeba started handing out papers for a “pop quiz” – ooh, isn’t he cool and scary – [Uhm, can you tell I despised that teacher?] Keith groaned, “Oh, great. Here goes another grade down the tubes.” I said – not really to him – just to myself, and anyone who felt like listening: “Think positive!” Bill heard me. He leaned forward, tapped Keith on the shoulder, and said, “Excuse me, Keith. Sheila O’Malley wants you to think positive.” [hahahahahaha] Keith turned around and grinned at me, giving the thumbs-up sign.

I can’t believe how much I care for this kid. How has this happened? Just a friendship is more than enough.

Aren’t human beings and human nature the most wonderful things in the world??????

DECEMBER

Oh, the weirdest thing just happened to me! [Sheila, please don’t share it. Oh God … you’re gonna share it, aren’t you?] Isn’t it wonderful when life looks so humdrum and a tiny little thing pops up to take away the humdrum-ness?

Just now – I was in my room alone working on a new story I just started, listening to the radio. Today was a good day. I wasn’t depressed or anything, and Freeze Frame came on the radio. [HAHAHAHA] Music is my savior. No matter what kind. It uplifts me. [But I thought you just said you weren’t depressed??] I love music. It does something to me. It revitalizes me. (Ooh!) [Uhm – okay, I don’t know what that “ooh” is about.] Anyway, an old wave of happiness flooded over me, remembering when I loved that song and Mere and I made up a dance to it. [Mere, I am sure you can see those dance steps right now. It SWEPT THE SCHOOL!] So I leaped to my feet, turned up the volume, and started bounding around dancing. I love dancing – I feel so happy and uninhibited when I dance. I went wild, like I usually do at dances. [Yes, but Sheila, did you press your sweaty Irish head up against the tiles?] I’m glad no one was watching me though because I went berserk. I did the little dance, I really got into it. I’m cool! [Uhm … ya are?]

Suddenly I looked at myself in the full-length mirror. My cheeks were all flushed. I was smiling. I looked okay in a very athletic out-of-breath way, that fun song was in my ears – I felt energy fizzing on all my nerve endings. I had nothing to do with the grin spread across my face. I was just lit up inside and it came out in a smile.

Then – [Oh God, there’s not more is there?] I felt this surge inside – really – that’s the word. It felt like a little cherry tomato exploded inside me. I felt no more doubts. I saw myself (well, not really saw – it wasn’t like these visions slowly drifted past me – they all assaulted me at once, making it all the better) – I saw myself going with Dave to the movies, sitting at Ricky’s with him, [RICKYS! HAHAHAHAHA] – kissing him – dancing with him – talking with him – It was wonderful. Just suddenly – for one brief flash – I felt: Of course something’s going to happen. Of course! Ecstasy flew through my brain and I felt like leaping and screaming and laughing!!! [Wow. This is really sad. Nothing did end up happening and I spent the entire next summer staggering around in tears because he turned me down to go to the Junior Prom. God. It sucked, really.] But it paralyzed me in a way. I just stared at my reflection. The next minute, that feeling – if that’s a word for it – was gone – but I still feel all wiggly inside. I wish I could say in here: Of course it’ll work out! I want it more than I have ever wanted anything!!!! [Oh, sweet girl. Sorry. Heartbreak’s comin’ at ya. Hunker down.]

Yesterday in Chemistry, we saw a filmstrip, and Keith ran the projector. So he pulled a desk up right next to mine. I’m not in love with him, but I do find him very attractive, and he is such a nice and real person. I wish I could get to know him better, like we used to know each other when we were kids. Anyway, the room was dark and the narrator was droning on and whenever the beep beeped [uhm you might want to re-word that], Keith would turn the knob. I was just sitting there, taking notes like a good doobie, and I happened to glance at Keith, and I happened to look at his hands. Very nice hands. Big, with long rough-looking fingers – looking as though they were sculpted out of wood, just casually curled around the projector. Sometimes just slightly moving, not for any good reason – or reaching up to scratch his chest. Then – to my shock – I suddenly felt like reaching over and taking his hand in mine – feel his fingers gently squeeze mine. I had to quickly look back up at the screen to keep myself from doing just that. I didn’t concentrate on the film AT ALL after that, but you know what I think? I think holding hands is about the most romantic thing of all. Of course, I’ve never done it. I HAVEN’T DONE ANYTHING. But I think that holding hands might even be nicer than a kiss. Of course, if I am ever kissed, I will probably think differently, but holding hands … Oh God, its too romantic to talk about.

Of course, next in French, I glanced back at Dave’s hands. Talk about big hands! They were beautiful – with ragged bitten nails. [hahahahaha Yeah, Sheila, they sound really “beautiful”. Love is blind.] He bites his nails too. A cut on one of his knuckles. Rounded blunt fingertips. I couldn’t get the vision of us strolling along, with our hands clasped, out of my mind. I want to hold hands with him.

You know what? It’s just occurred to me that it must look to you as if this whole relationship is in my brain. [Er … yeah. That is what it looks like] But it’s not. It’s not like the thing with JW. I admired JW from afar and tricked myself into believing that he cared for me just as much as I loved him. HOW could I have been so STUPID??? Why didn’t I see? We must have had 6 conversations in all – I had fantasies of our romance, but it was all so illogical. He was so far from me. But David – suddenly this year – there is a friendship growing that wasn’t there before. [This is not a lie. We were friends.] And this time – I don’t lie on my bed dreaming of a sudden dalliance. [Dalliance? What is this – Les Liaisons Dangereuses?] I think about our real-life happenings which is so much more satisfactory. Me asking him to dance, us in Project Adventure – him talking to me – and just thinking about him — DAVE – who he is, what he’s like – what he thinks about – if he ever thinks of me.

It’s impossible not to imagine us going out and what it would be like and how wonderful and fascinating it would be, but Diary – oh forgive my awful forwardness – I think it could work! [I love that I am apologizing TO MY JOURNAL for my “awful forwardness”. It’s so Victorian of me. I was a Gibson Girl, even then.] I think it honestly is in my grasp.

Isn’t that wonderful?

I don’t know how to go about “going for it” – but if nothing happens naturally – I’m gonna find a way. [Bummer, man. Headin’ for a fall … a big fall …]

Here’s the entire Diary Friday archive if you’re interested.

DECEMBER

Oh, the weirdest thing just happened to me! [Sheila, please don’t share it. Oh God … you’re gonna share it, aren’t you?] Isn’t it wonderful when life looks so humdrum and a tiny little thing pops up to take away the humdrum-ness?

Just now – I was in my room alone working on a new story I just started, listening to the radio. Today was a good day. I wasn’t depressed or anything, and Freeze Frame came on the radio. [HAHAHAHA] Music is my savior. No matter what kind. It uplifts me. [But I thought you just said you weren’t depressed??] I love music. It does something to me. It revitalizes me. (Ooh!) [Uhm – okay, I don’t know what that “ooh” is about.] Anyway, an old wave of happiness flooded over me, remembering when I loved that song and Mere and I made up a dance to it. [Mere, I am sure you can see those dance steps right now. It SWEPT THE SCHOOL!] So I leaped to my feet, turned up the volume, and started bounding around dancing. I love dancing – I feel so happy and uninhibited when I dance. I went wild, like I usually do at dances. [Yes, but Sheila, did you press your sweaty Irish head up against the tiles?] I’m glad no one was watching me though because I went berserk. I did the little dance, I really got into it. I’m cool! [Uhm … ya are?]

Suddenly I looked at myself in the full-length mirror. My cheeks were all flushed. I was smiling. I looked okay in a very athletic out-of-breath way, that fun song was in my ears – I felt energy fizzing on all my nerve endings. I had nothing to do with the grin spread across my face. I was just lit up inside and it came out in a smile.

Then – [Oh God, there’s not more is there?] I felt this surge inside – really – that’s the word. It felt like a little cherry tomato exploded inside me. I felt no more doubts. I saw myself (well, not really saw – it wasn’t like these visions slowly drifted past me – they all assaulted me at once, making it all the better) – I saw myself going with Dave to the movies, sitting at Ricky’s with him, [RICKYS! HAHAHAHAHA] – kissing him – dancing with him – talking with him – It was wonderful. Just suddenly – for one brief flash – I felt: Of course something’s going to happen. Of course! Ecstasy flew through my brain and I felt like leaping and screaming and laughing!!! [Wow. This is really sad. Nothing did end up happening and I spent the entire next summer staggering around in tears because he turned me down to go to the Junior Prom. God. It sucked, really.] But it paralyzed me in a way. I just stared at my reflection. The next minute, that feeling – if that’s a word for it – was gone – but I still feel all wiggly inside. I wish I could say in here: Of course it’ll work out! I want it more than I have ever wanted anything!!!! [Oh, sweet girl. Sorry. Heartbreak’s comin’ at ya. Hunker down.]

Yesterday in Chemistry, we saw a filmstrip, and Keith ran the projector. So he pulled a desk up right next to mine. I’m not in love with him, but I do find him very attractive, and he is such a nice and real person. I wish I could get to know him better, like we used to know each other when we were kids. Anyway, the room was dark and the narrator was droning on and whenever the beep beeped [uhm you might want to re-word that], Keith would turn the knob. I was just sitting there, taking notes like a good doobie, and I happened to glance at Keith, and I happened to look at his hands. Very nice hands. Big, with long rough-looking fingers – looking as though they were sculpted out of wood, just casually curled around the projector. Sometimes just slightly moving, not for any good reason – or reaching up to scratch his chest. Then – to my shock – I suddenly felt like reaching over and taking his hand in mine – feel his fingers gently squeeze mine. I had to quickly look back up at the screen to keep myself from doing just that. I didn’t concentrate on the film AT ALL after that, but you know what I think? I think holding hands is about the most romantic thing of all. Of course, I’ve never done it. I HAVEN’T DONE ANYTHING. But I think that holding hands might even be nicer than a kiss. Of course, if I am ever kissed, I will probably think differently, but holding hands … Oh God, its too romantic to talk about.

Of course, next in French, I glanced back at Dave’s hands. Talk about big hands! They were beautiful – with ragged bitten nails. [hahahahaha Yeah, Sheila, they sound really “beautiful”. Love is blind.] He bites his nails too. A cut on one of his knuckles. Rounded blunt fingertips. I couldn’t get the vision of us strolling along, with our hands clasped, out of my mind. I want to hold hands with him.

You know what? It’s just occurred to me that it must look to you as if this whole relationship is in my brain. [Er … yeah. That is what it looks like] But it’s not. It’s not like the thing with JW. I admired JW from afar and tricked myself into believing that he cared for me just as much as I loved him. HOW could I have been so STUPID??? Why didn’t I see? We must have had 6 conversations in all – I had fantasies of our romance, but it was all so illogical. He was so far from me. But David – suddenly this year – there is a friendship growing that wasn’t there before. [This is not a lie. We were friends.] And this time – I don’t lie on my bed dreaming of a sudden dalliance. [Dalliance? What is this – Les Liaisons Dangereuses?] I think about our real-life happenings which is so much more satisfactory. Me asking him to dance, us in Project Adventure – him talking to me – and just thinking about him — DAVE – who he is, what he’s like – what he thinks about – if he ever thinks of me.

It’s impossible not to imagine us going out and what it would be like and how wonderful and fascinating it would be, but Diary – oh forgive my awful forwardness – I think it could work! [I love that I am apologizing TO MY JOURNAL for my “awful forwardness”. It’s so Victorian of me. I was a Gibson Girl, even then.] I think it honestly is in my grasp.

Isn’t that wonderful?

I don’t know how to go about “going for it” – but if nothing happens naturally – I’m gonna find a way. [Bummer, man. Headin’ for a fall … a big fall …]