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Description

I have only said “I love you” to a handful of people in my lifetime, and if you omit the times, I was addressing my mother, I don’t believe I have ever said those words with conviction. I learned early on, that I was incapable of such a commitment associated emotion. My attention span is very short, and no-matter how lovely or nice a girl was, my interest soon wavers. I found it best, to keep my relationships to brief affairs, preferring to part before the magic of the moment does.

      In my youth however, I did think I was in love a few times, but even in those cases, I never actually said the words. I did write “I love you” once, but it wasn’t in a letter or on a Valentine card. I wrote it on a giant-ass billboard sign, in giant-ass letters! The sign was twelve by twenty-four feet, and on one cold night, under the cover of darkness, I covertly hung my sign on a billboard next to a road frequently travel by the object of my desire.

      This billboard confessional, was an attempt to win back the affections of a girl that had broken-up with me. I thought, the sheer size of my sentiment would surely impress her. When I put up that sign however, she was seeing another guy, so the likelihood of her running back into my arms, was slim. I guess that is why I was willing to venture out on that (I love you) limb. I knew the commitment that usually comes with those words probably wouldn’t apply, so I was safe to say anything I wanted, without consequence.

      In the end, the billboard did impress her, but it didn’t bring her back to me. We did get together to talk one last time though. That conversation took place in my car in her driveway, during which, she mentioned that she was contemplating a marriage proposal. I told her if she was going to marry anyone, it should be me. With that, she raised her left hand and extended her ring finger - in a, ‘put-up’ or ‘shut-up’ gesture. I was caught unprepared, and I had nothing to ‘put-up’ or ‘put-on’. I’m sure she was just kidding when she held out her hand and extended her finger, but what if, she wasn’t? What if, she was testing me, to see if I was serious? I would replay that scene many times in my head, imagining what may have happened, if I had a ring?

My re-imagining of that night played like a television commercial for Cartier Jewelry, except, my commercial was less Cartier’s of Fifth Ave., and more Woolworth’s of Midway Mall. I was a frugal guy, so if I had bought her a ring, it would have been something from the ‘cubic zirconia line’ in Woolworth’s jewelry counter. I got everything at Woolworth’s in those days, so why not an engagement ring? Anyway, back to my re-imagining of how this might have played out.

(When the girl offered me her ring finger, I obliged with my glistening, Woolworth’s special. Her eyes lit-up - as if, she was viewing something that came from the bowels of a diamond mine, not baked over a Bunsen burner in a laboratory. It looked great to the naked eye, but I was worried she might pull a jeweler’s loop from her purse to have a closer look, or try to scratch my windshield with the rock, to test its authenticity. Fortunately, for me, she did neither. She just smiled, cried tears of joy, and said yes, to my bargain basement bobble. As we embraced to celebrate the moment, our commercial transitions to a montage of wedding bells, ringing, bridal bouquets, being tossed, and tin cans, clanging beneath a ‘Just Married’ sign on the back of a ‘honeymoon destined’ limousine.) Well… that’s the way I re-imagined it, anyway.

      In reality, she married the responsible guy with a limitless attention span, and I spent the next year or so drowning my sorrows in beer and one-night stands. Eventually, my feelings for her began to fade, like the old newspaper picture announcing their marriage. The years passed, the beer continued to flow, and the girls came and went. Such was life in the ‘arrested development’ world in which I lived.

Flash forward nearly a decade, to a yard in front of a house on Montrose Way, where I was playing Frisbee with a girl I was dating. In between Frisbee tosses, I noticed three bikes coming down the street. On those bikes were a father, a toddler assisted by training wheels, and a mother on her bike chauffeuring another younger offspring in a child seat. As the family got closer, I suddenly realized the mother doing the chauffeuring was actually an old girlfriend of mine. Not just any girlfriend, but the recipient of my giant-ass, billboard confessional! I hadn’t seen her since that night in my car, in her driveway. She was nineteen then, single, and childless, now, all that had changed, but sadly, my life was pretty much the same. Over the years - to avoid the trappings of adulthood, I kept hanging out with a younger group of friends. Friends that were not yet ready for jobs, children, and responsibility. The girl I was dating and playing Frisbee with, was twelve years younger than me.

      As I watched my former girlfriend and her family cruise by, I felt like Ebenezer Scrooge being shown his past, and what might have been. I thought about the, what ifs? What if, my billboard confession would have won her over? What if, I really did have a ring, that night she dangled her digit in front of my face? If things had played out like my imagined scenario, then that could be me leading the parade of parenthood around the streets of Montrose Way, instead of playing Frisbee in a yard with a hangover. It was an interesting glimpse, of what might have been, but I’m glad things didn’t work out for us, because I would be a lousy husband and father, just like my father had been. With that in mind, I turned away from the, what ifs - tightened my grip on the Frisbee, and tossed it back to the, what is.

Description

I have only said “I love you” to a handful of people in my lifetime, and if you omit the times, I was addressing my mother, I don’t believe I have ever said those words with conviction. I learned early on, that I was incapable of such a commitment associated emotion. My attention span is very short, and no-matter how lovely or nice a girl was, my interest soon wavers. I found it best, to keep my relationships to brief affairs, preferring to part before the magic of the moment does.

      In my youth however, I did think I was in love a few times, but even in those cases, I never actually said the words. I did write “I love you” once, but it wasn’t in a letter or on a Valentine card. I wrote it on a giant-ass billboard sign, in giant-ass letters! The sign was twelve by twenty-four feet, and on one cold night, under the cover of darkness, I covertly hung my sign on a billboard next to a road frequently travel by the object of my desire.

      This billboard confessional, was an attempt to win back the affections of a girl that had broken-up with me. I thought, the sheer size of my sentiment would surely impress her. When I put up that sign however, she was seeing another guy, so the likelihood of her running back into my arms, was slim. I guess that is why I was willing to venture out on that (I love you) limb. I knew the commitment that usually comes with those words probably wouldn’t apply, so I was safe to say anything I wanted, without consequence.

      In the end, the billboard did impress her, but it didn’t bring her back to me. We did get together to talk one last time though. That conversation took place in my car in her driveway, during which, she mentioned that she was contemplating a marriage proposal. I told her if she was going to marry anyone, it should be me. With that, she raised her left hand and extended her ring finger - in a, ‘put-up’ or ‘shut-up’ gesture. I was caught unprepared, and I had nothing to ‘put-up’ or ‘put-on’. I’m sure she was just kidding when she held out her hand and extended her finger, but what if, she wasn’t? What if, she was testing me, to see if I was serious? I would replay that scene many times in my head, imagining what may have happened, if I had a ring?

My re-imagining of that night played like a television commercial for Cartier Jewelry, except, my commercial was less Cartier’s of Fifth Ave., and more Woolworth’s of Midway Mall. I was a frugal guy, so if I had bought her a ring, it would have been something from the ‘cubic zirconia line’ in Woolworth’s jewelry counter. I got everything at Woolworth’s in those days, so why not an engagement ring? Anyway, back to my re-imagining of how this might have played out.

(When the girl offered me her ring finger, I obliged with my glistening, Woolworth’s special. Her eyes lit-up - as if, she was viewing something that came from the bowels of a diamond mine, not baked over a Bunsen burner in a laboratory. It looked great to the naked eye, but I was worried she might pull a jeweler’s loop from her purse to have a closer look, or try to scratch my windshield with the rock, to test its authenticity. Fortunately, for me, she did neither. She just smiled, cried tears of joy, and said yes, to my bargain basement bobble. As we embraced to celebrate the moment, our commercial transitions to a montage of wedding bells, ringing, bridal bouquets, being tossed, and tin cans, clanging beneath a ‘Just Married’ sign on the back of a ‘honeymoon destined’ limousine.) Well… that’s the way I re-imagined it, anyway.

      In reality, she married the responsible guy with a limitless attention span, and I spent the next year or so drowning my sorrows in beer and one-night stands. Eventually, my feelings for her began to fade, like the old newspaper picture announcing their marriage. The years passed, the beer continued to flow, and the girls came and went. Such was life in the ‘arrested development’ world in which I lived.

Flash forward nearly a decade, to a yard in front of a house on Montrose Way, where I was playing Frisbee with a girl I was dating. In between Frisbee tosses, I noticed three bikes coming down the street. On those bikes were a father, a toddler assisted by training wheels, and a mother on her bike chauffeuring another younger offspring in a child seat. As the family got closer, I suddenly realized the mother doing the chauffeuring was actually an old girlfriend of mine. Not just any girlfriend, but the recipient of my giant-ass, billboard confessional! I hadn’t seen her since that night in my car, in her driveway. She was nineteen then, single, and childless, now, all that had changed, but sadly, my life was pretty much the same. Over the years - to avoid the trappings of adulthood, I kept hanging out with a younger group of friends. Friends that were not yet ready for jobs, children, and responsibility. The girl I was dating and playing Frisbee with, was twelve years younger than me.

      As I watched my former girlfriend and her family cruise by, I felt like Ebenezer Scrooge being shown his past, and what might have been. I thought about the, what ifs? What if, my billboard confession would have won her over? What if, I really did have a ring, that night she dangled her digit in front of my face? If things had played out like my imagined scenario, then that could be me leading the parade of parenthood around the streets of Montrose Way, instead of playing Frisbee in a yard with a hangover. It was an interesting glimpse, of what might have been, but I’m glad things didn’t work out for us, because I would be a lousy husband and father, just like my father had been. With that in mind, I turned away from the, what ifs - tightened my grip on the Frisbee, and tossed it back to the, what is.