Category Archives: Uncategorized

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A strange sign

After I got Phil’s message, I poked around Classmates.com, and noticed a new name on my high school class list – Clint. I broke out in a cold sweat.  I wasn’t a fanatic about keeping my name off the internet, but I was careful.  Because of Clint.

Today we’d probably call him a bully.  Sexual harasser.  Stalker.  But in the 1970’s we didn’t know.  Boys picked on girls all the time and got away with it.  Clint was that pest in high school.  You know the type.  The creepy guy who would wait for me to spin the combination and open my locker, and then slam the door, making me late for class.  The jerk in my homeroom who’d say things first thing in the morning like, “Where’d you get that ugly shirt?”  or “Wow, you’re looking fat today!”  He’d tell greaser boys that I said I liked them.  And tell the handsome jock I was pining for that I’d said he was a doofus.  As we got older, he started punching me in the arm, and pinching my ass or my boobs.  Ouch!  Ugh.  

One night at a dance after another boy dumped me, Clint was oddly nice to me, telling me I looked pretty and asking me to dance.  During a slow dance, he whispered that he was hot for me, would do anything to “get in my pants.”  Um, really dude?  NO!  So he started calling me a slut and telling boys I had done all sorts of physical things with him.  Things that “nice girls” didn’t do.  Other boys believed him and asked me out, thinking I was easy.  They disappeared pretty quickly when they found out I was a virgin and determined to stay that way, though I had to endure a lot of dancing too close or wrestling matches in the back of cars.  They’d say, “…but Clint said you were easy!”  Ugh.  
I was very sad in the days after high school graduation, knowing I’d go away to college and never see my friends again.  But there were a few kids I was relieved never to see again and Clint was at the top of the list.  I left town and got on with my life, forgetting about the small town high school bullshit.  
Five years later, I went to a varsity basketball game over Thanksgiving with my little sister.  Clint’s little sister was there, talking about coming to Boston for college.  My sister told her I lived there.  I asked where Clint was these days, and she said California.  I smiled, happy that he was about as far away from me as possible.  
A week later I got a 12 page letter from Clint.  He professed undying love for me, then rambled on about the vicious, violent sexual things he’d do to me.  “Just say the word and I will leave my wife and come out there and fuck your brains out.”  I was terrified.  I threw up.  I warned my parents and little sister never to say anything about me to Clint’s family again, then put the letter in my strong box under the bed, telling the room mates to give it to the police if anything happened to me.  And started looking over my shoulder, wondering when he would appear to attack me.  
The terror dimmed over the years, but it was always in the back of my mind, making me wary of anything that would connect me with him on any level.  And cementing my desire not to associate with anyone from my high school.  My best friend talked me into going to our 10th reunion.  I went to see her and made her promise she would not let me out of her sight.  I took my husband to the 20th reunion with the same promise. Luckily, Clint didn’t appear at either event!  I had a lovely evening with a group of pleasant adults who bore little resemblance to the odd assortment of characters who populated my high school days.  
With the advent of the internet in the 90’s, I thought of him again.  I wasn’t a privacy fiend, but I was careful.  Luckily there was never any sign of him.  That was pretty typical of my classmates… very few of them signed up for Classmates.com and they didn’t appear in Google searches or even on Facebook when it appeared.  Luddites.  Yay!  
But suddenly here was his name on Classmates.com.  And he had left his name on my profile months earlier, which I hadn’t noticed.  I began to panic, thinking about yanking my name off there and covering my tracks elsewhere.  Damn.  It gave me all sorts of second thoughts about talking to Phil.  
I decided to click on Clint’s profile, see where he was now.  There was a short note: 
“This is Clint’s wife of many years, Carolyn.  He passed away. We shared a wonderful life in California.”
I felt completely evil thinking it, but the first thought that popped into my head was, “HOORAY!  HE”S DEAD!”  I know, that’s not cool.  But I was so relieved.  I felt this huge weight being lifted off my shoulders!  I had not even realized how heavy it was.  I tried in vain to find an obituary online, but decided to believe it anyway.
And then suddenly it dawned on me that I discovered this strange and wonderful news because Phil had written to me.  A very good thing had come from him being in touch.  Maybe this was why it happened now?  I wondered if I could tell him in a way that wouldn’t involve me being gleeful over the death of another human being.  Would it freak him out that I connected the events in my mind?  Instead of being wary, I was suddenly excited to find out what other happy news he’d bring my way. 
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Telling other people

Too many times over the weekend I read over his messages and our chat.  They made me smile.

I looked at his Facebook account.  There were dozens of photos!  I clicked on every photo posted, soaking up details about his home, his family, his pets, and his travels.  But mostly, I stared at him.  He still had a full head of dark hair, broad shoulders, a trim body and a beautiful smile.  I cringed thinking of the half dozen photos of me online… the frumpy older lady with her husband at some party.  I hate cameras!  Thank goodness my profile photo was one of me alone of a carousel with my hair down and a big smile.

It felt like this huge thing had happened.  Which seemed silly, but there you have it.

I told other people the news and began to pick up more facts about him.

  • My little sister was out of town, so I sent her an email. 

I hope you had all your excitement pre-flight and the rest was easy.

The relentless Classmates.Com send me an email saying “you’ve received a private message from Phil Xxxxx.”  I thought…”That’s it…they may have finally found a way to make me give them money.”  But then I thought, “Hey!  Maybe I can find him on Facebook.”  Couldn’t find him on Facebook.  So I googled him, found him on LinkedIn.  But can’t see details.  But that gave me enough info to find him on Facebook.  But wait…I don’t remember anything about him.  No point really.

So I went back to the Classmates message and thought  “I wonder how far it will let me get before it asks for money?”  and started clicking.  Lo and behold, it let me see the message for free!
From:  
Phil Xxxxx (view profile)
To:  
 my name
Sent:  
August 18, 2010 08:28:29 AM
Subject:  
Hi, from Phil!
Hey, how have you been?  Hope life has treated you well.
Living in DC now, still in the military and enjoying it.
I get to the old home town several times a year.  Still many great memories.
There was a photo. Can’t see the guy I knew, but it seems harmless enough, so I sent a friend request on Facebook.  Then I realized this broke my resolve never to friend anyone from high school.  So I go check to see if he has any friends from there.  Nope.  Heh.  

We’ll see.  You can tell me I’m a dope now.

-S

She thought the photo looked like him and said, “I can’t believe you friended him.  He hurt you so badly!”  I couldn’t believe she remembered that… she was in first grade when he left town!  
  • I sent a Facebook message to my best friend from high school, asked her if she remembered him.  She said she did and she couldn’t believe I didn’t because I had adored him and been so hurt when we broke up.  She remembered that he had long brown hair and was an athlete.  She thought it was a good thing it wasn’t one of my other goofy boyfriends (that she’d also dated) that had contacted me.  
  • I went to visit my mom and dad.  They remembered him fondly from church, said he had a beautiful voice and sang in the choir.  My mother said he was a good boy, always around to help out at events.  She thought she’d seen a photo in the local paper that he was promoted.  
  • I told my online penpals.  There were about half a dozen friends I wrote to every week.  I was fascinated at how their reactions varied from curiosity to a warning about married men who contact old flames to ignoring that news altogether!
  • I told my husband I’d heard from my first boyfriend in high school, and that he wanted to take me out for pizza when he was up here in December.  He thought that was interesting.  

I was surprised how much I thought about him.  I wanted to know more.
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Due Diligence

I read his first message over and over.  And over again.   What did he mean by “great memories?”  I tried to remember more about him, but there was nothing.  How could my brain have let go of all that?

I finally clicked on his Classmates.com profile.  There was a photo of a smiling man, sitting at a table with a pizza and a bottle of red wine, about to pick up a slice.  I couldn’t see any sign of the boy I knew, but he was so cute!  It was a great photo – nothing flirty, just friendly.  I stared at it for a long while.  He had a full head of dark hair and a mustache.  I love mustaches.  He was trim, with lovely shoulders.  I’m a sucker for shoulders.  He had on jeans and a classy maroon sweater.  Casual, comfortable, and nice looking.  Inviting…

So I googled him.  Not much there.  Except for a Facebook account that listed the military as his employer.  Was that the one?  I didn’t want to reply on Classmates.com but here was my chance to be in touch without saying anything.  I didn’t want to risk a message if it turned out to be the wrong guy.  I could send him a friend request.  I puzzled over whether to do that… but then I put myself in his shoes.  And realized I did not want to leave him hanging.  He had done everything right.  I could at least reach out.  That way if he turned out to be an unpleasant correspondent, I could block him and be done with it.

I decided to sleep on it.  I went to work the next day and thought about it in between meetings.  When I got home, I looked at everything again – his message, his photo, his blank Facebook page… and made up my mind to get in touch.

So late in the evening of August 19th, I clicked the Friend Request button and went off to bed.

I lay awake wondering if he’d friend me or message me?  What did he want?