There was this girl I liked in high school. She was tall and strong and athletic and two years below me. I never got to talk to her. I never got to hang out with her.
She lived near me. I sometimes ran into her on my walks. I think we just nodded and said hi.
She had blonde hair and a cute face and even though she was strong, she had curves in the right places. She was all woman. I liked how she was kinda shy and demure.
I never sensed an opening so I never got anywhere with her.
About six years ago, a lawyer from high school who was a year or two below me posted on a Placer High School newsgroup, “Who was the best editor ever of the Hillmen Messenger?” He nominated me. He was just trying to stir up a discussion.
This girl I liked got into the discussion. She’s now married with kids. She said she thought in high school that I’d become successful writing about politics and it was sad to see what I had turned into, always writing on my blog about how pathetic my life was.
Oh well, all the girls I yearned for in high school, when I look at their current pictures, I don’t yearn for them anymore.
Around age 43, I stopped finding women my own age attractive. I’m not happy about this. I’m just speaking the truth.
