Cringe-worthy – Part 3
I just finished my youthful Journal #3 – my “sweet sixteen” one. Another blast from the past. It was obnoxious and revelatory in equal parts.
Despite my hopes that my earlier relationship fickleness and politically incorrect language would be gone – only the second of those two was (essentially) fulfilled. There were more names of classmates – lots of names! – that I had to look up in old yearbooks to identify, despite the fact that these people (well, actually “kids” back then) were obviously very important to me at particular moments of that time. Of the ones I remembered, it turns out that the sequence and length of these “relationships” was different to the memories I had – different to the way I have told my stories over the years. And I’m not talking about boys here – I am talking about my girlfriends. My bff’s as they call them now.
Before reading Journal #3, I would have told you this:
- I wasn’t part of a clique. I simply had a manageable number of friends for organizing weekend activities. There were 12 of us in all.
- I had four boyfriends in High School.
Back to the future, here is the now updated version:
- I apparently had several experiences in which soon-to-be-new bff told me all the nasty things soon-to-be-former bff was saying about me behind my back. In some cases, I swallowed it all whole hog. It never occurred to me that new bff might have an agenda. I bounced around like a jai alai ball from (girlfriend) allegiance to allegiance with nearly the same ferocity as I did from (boyfriend) crush to crush, because . . .
- There were more than four. But the majority of them strike me now as fairly fluid and short-lived affairs, regardless of how very seriously I took them at the time. Based on the fact that the word “jerk” gets used a lot after-the-fact, I suspect that I was willing to “go with” a fair number of Biffs.
The upshot of Journal #3 is that it told me a different story of my own young adulthood. It showed me that there was fluidity, velocity, bounce, and rebound in ALL of my relationships – with boys and girls alike. They had flux capacitators built into them. It turns out that half of them sped up to 88 miles per hour and were erased from time.
After finishing the last page and closing Journal #3, I found myself asking if this all said something about me.
Or is this just the way 16 year olds are?