Regrets . . .

I’ve had a few.

I wasn’t planning on writing on consecutive days. Actually, am I posting on consecutive days? Facebook says ‘yes,’ so it must be true.

So why am I writing here tonight? What, pray tell, would make me want to post, on regrets no less?

Well, it’s quite simple. I have been recently (finally!) been in touch with someone I haven’t spoken to (and heard her voice) since December 2008, or MSNed/FB messaged/else since May 2009, or physically seen since, I’m going to say, August 2006. And just talking to her made me think of the other people I haven’t seen or spoken to in a long time.

Actually, Shelly’s birthday shindig and then the Gold Medal game on consecutive days also twigged my nostalgia vein.

But getting back on track, I’ve been thinking about the people I haven’t seen in years. And for a few of them, I am also remembering stupid things I may have said or done to them.

So I guess what this comes down to more than regrets is just memories of people. Some are good and some are bad. In many cases I just miss them. In others, I recall the dumb sh*t I have done or said to them. It’s really a mixed bag when it comes to my feelings.

Oh, and I’m not going to name names. That wouldn’t be fair. Except Shelly’s name. But she is only mentioned because her shindig was something I went to, not because she’s someone about whom I have strong feelings or memories.

Now, on to brass tacks.

So, I’m looking at the pictures I took at my Grade 12 retreat. And in several pictures there is this one girl. I did that on purpose. What I did not do on purpose was what I wrote to her in a note. Well, I did write it on purpose. But I never meant what I wrote to be taken how it was. I never thought what I wrote would have been hurtful. And even though I am sure she has forgiven me (a few weeks later I was carrying her on my shoulders), I am still appalled at what I wrote. I was looking at those photos last night and saying to myself, “[insert name], I’m so sorry.” There was no excuse for what I wrote, and I will never be that callous again. But I have to thank her friend for coming to rip me a new one shortly after what I wrote was read. Because if that had not happened, I would not have called her when I got home to profusely apologize. And that, I think, may have been a contributing factor in her forgiving me. But to this day, I am so sorry I wrote those words.

And there’s this other girl. I am not 100 per cent sure what I did, but chances are what I did has to do with the fact I am horrible at picking up social cues and subtle hints. I thought we were friends, but I think I screwed it up by trying to make more of it than it would ever be. I was young and stupid and I didn’t see the signals. The last time I saw her would most likely have been December 2005. And now I don’t have a phone number, or an email address. And she’s not on FB as far as I can see. I am at the point where I know things can never be what they were. But I do miss her and wish I was still in some form of contact. She’s a wonderful person (from what I remember) and it would be nice to have her in my life. Just to know where she is and what’s she’s doing and how she’s doing. Rumour is she’s married and sporting a bump. I do hope to get to see the baby in time. Alas, that is easier said than done.

And then there’s the only girl with whom I shared a classroom throughout all eight elementary school grades. I have not seen her since, let’s say, late in Grade 12. Or maybe some time during my OAC/Grade 13/Fifth Year. I can’t recall exactly. I may have seen her on the subway a few weeks ago. But if it was her, she didn’t acknowledge me. Which, if it was her, in a way wouldn’t surprise me. But I miss her too. This is one where I don’t think I did anything; we just simply didn’t remain in touch while I was away at Carleton. And that’s sad. It’s sad that someone with whom you share the same classroom for eight years, and then the same high school for four, fades out of your life. I do wish I could get back in touch. I know where her parents live, and they (should) know me. Maybe some day soon I will go up there and see if they could spill the beans. I would love to see her again.

And then there’s the one who, when I see her again, I will hug and not want to let go. There is nothing between us, there never has been, and I highly doubt there ever will be. But I love her to pieces. We have had some good chats and I think we trust each other completely. Of course, she may think that’s a load of hooey, but that’s how I feel. We’ve been to Europe together. She’s been there to help me through my utter devastation in December of fourth year university when it became apparent a certain someone I was angling for was seeing someone else. She was the one who saw I was in dire straits (so to speak) and forced me to give her my phone number and then she called me. Almost no one from home called me when I was at Carleton. Especially unsolicited like that. It meant a lot and reinforced just how much I love her to pieces. If she reads this, she will likely know I am talking about her.

While looking for the grad pictures my friends gave me when they graduated high school, which I have to say were not where they should have been, (that’s the last time I put things away; I can never find them when I do that.) I came across two interesting things. One was the prom photo I had taken with my then-GF. The other was the prom ‘invitations.’ Or were they the prom tickets? Anyway. I completely forgot I had those. Part of me wants to put them (the photo and her ticket) with the rest of the stuff I have lying around from those eight months (i.e. the garbage) (what? like you keep everything from all your relationships), but part of me wants to keep them with my high school memories. The argument for the garbage is to purge all vestiges of that time. But that’s never going to happen. I am still using the scarf she gave me, as well as a tea mug I got. And I like them, although the scarf sees more use than does the mug. The argument for keeping them is that, despite how I feel about that time, it was a learning experience. And she did make me happy back then. So kept they will be.

That’s about it for memories or regrets. I guess this has been a mish mash of both. This is what happens when I have time to think and come across photos of my past.

And I have to say, I sure did some dumb sh*t in my youth.

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