Boys I Want to Marry - Second Edition

Welcome to another edition of "Boys I Want to Marry."

This is Shane. The one on the right was his senior picture. The one on the left was taken in '87 with his little sister.

Shane came into my life during my junior year of high school. I signed up to take "Pub." Pub was Journalism, or more aptly, the school newspaper. We also had Algebra II together.

Going to a small high school, I knew who he was even though he was a grade ahead of me, but I didn't know too much about him. It wasn't long into the school year that Shane and I became friends. In even less time, I got the warm-tinglies for him.

My gawd, he was cute. I loved the mole by his mouth. And did he ever smell good wearing Grey Flannel. He had a sense of style that I admired. We started shopping together at Salvation Army and Good Will, and he helped me pick out my first trench coat. Hey, it was the 80s, and if scrounging in second-hand stores was good enough for Molly Ringwald in "Pretty in Pink," it was good enough for us. We'd dress to the hilt to go have dinner together, him helping me be sure the seam on my hose was straight and my wide belt positioned just so on my outfit.

Shane was my Ducky.

He introduced me to all sorts of music. Elvis Costello, Billie Holiday, Jim Croce, and The Cure. He gave me books of poetry, and gave me poems to read by Dorothy Parker, Anne Sexton, and Marge Piercy. He wrote his own poetry that he shared with me, too. He was deep, brooding, mysterious. He loved Marilyn Monroe; I loved James Dean.

More importantly, he taught me about showing affection. I didn't come from a touchy-feely, show your love through a hug, sort of family. In fact, the first time Shane hugged me, I froze. He asked if he made me uncomfortable, I fumbled with my words, and he said, "Oh, my little Kelly Girl," and hugged me again. You better believe the first time he kissed me on the cheek when he hugged me that I melted right there in his mom's kitchen.

Shane was a vegetarian. When I decided to give up meat as well, because you know the lengths a girl will go to for the sake of a boy's attention, he introduced me to pizza with only veggies on it. He and I shared many a sandwich made from cheese, pickles, and condiments.

When he graduated high school, he moved away to CA to live with his dad. We kept in touch via letters and phone calls. The letters I still have to this day full of intellect, poetry, and smartass remarks. Because if nothing else, he was indeed one of the most sarcastic, and witty, people I've ever known.

We had our falling outs, here and there. By the time I dropped out of college and moved back home, he was on his way back to the college where I'd left. You see, I thought he and I were going to be at school together, but his plans changed.

I truly loved him with everything I had. It wasn't a "boy-girl" love, but a very psychologically comforting sort of love. He was one of the best friends that I ever had, even though our interaction at times left one wonder what we saw in each other. When we fought, it was bitter, hurtful, and passionate. all at the same time.

He invited me once to visit him at college. I'd planned to drive down early on a Sat. morning. We spoke on the phone to discuss the details when he said, "I hope you don't mind, but you'll have to sleep with me, but I won't sleep naked like I usually do."

I don't know what it was about his statement that scared me so much. I was 20ish, and had shared a bed with a friend in the past, and knew it didn't necessarily mean that something sexual would transpire. It scared me, however, and I didn't end up going to see him, which I think he held a grudge about for a very long time.

I visited him after I got married and was pregnant. He looked at me and said, "Gawd Kel, you look so married." It wasn't exactly a comment to be flinging around to a hormonal pregnant chick. He told me to call him the next day, and I could come over to spend some time, but I never did.

Anyway, it's been years since I've seen him or even talked to him. At least ten. I talk to his mom on occasion. I used to call him occasionally and leave a message. But when it became apparent that he didn't want to hear from me, I stopped.

There are people who come into your life and they leave a mark that lasts a lifetime. I guess, sometimes, though we get lost in the revolving doors of life. I think of Shane often. I miss him even though it's been 19 years since we were close. I still don't eat red meat. I know I'm in a rut if I start looking really "married." I can't hear Elvis Costello or read any poetry without thinking of this boy I wanted to marry. I carry a part of him in my soul.

Here's a poem he wrote, sitting in my living room when I had my own apartment. "Give me a piece of paper," he told me. This is what he wrote:

A Love Poem

My love for you

is a starving man

Lifting silver spoonfuls

of poison

to bleeding lips

Billie Holiday moans quietly

"Good morning heartache..."

She knows this cold companion

as I do

And that bones

Thin and clean

Never meant to carry

the weight

of a starving man,

Break...

SSK, 10:10 p.m., 5/11/99

Note: "Boys I Want to Marry" is not to be taken in a literal sense. If your first thought is, "Oh my gawd, she's married and she's making blog entries about other boys she wants to marry, why I never!" you shouldn't be reading my blog in the first place. It was merely how I expressed myself as a young girl. When I was seven years old and watched Rick Dees perform "Disco Duck" on TV, I announced to my grandma that I wanted to marry him. Because of course, I was young, and when you loved someone, it was in my estimation that the logical thing to do was marry him. My immature mind and vocabulary limited my ability to express triggered emotions. Perhaps they still do.