At
the age of 18, I worked in a men’s clothing store, the ideal job for a single female. It was called His Place,
owned by Merry Go Round. (The Buckle/Hollister/Abercrombie of the 90's.)
My manager
told me we would be participating in a fashion show at a local club, to promote
sales of our clothing, and I was in charge of orchestrating it. I would be
working with the club manager.
My
first reaction was dread as I assumed I would be paired with a perverted older
man, the description of a club manager that first came to mind. I agreed and
tried to mentally prepare for his ickyness, simply focusing on getting the
models in place.
The evening of the show, my
manager escorted me to the back of the club for the meet and greet with the man I would be working with that night. To my surprise,
out walked a GORGEOUS man with long hair … my favorite preference. (My 1st
car date was a keyboard player with long hair.) For some reason, though I am
not a musician, I was always intrigued by the rocker musician bad boys with
long hair.
The
club’s manager man was in his twenties and had the most striking eyes, smile
and utterly sexy voice. He knew how to carry himself with no lack of confidence
and had the mature, handsome five o’clock shadow facial stubble. It kept a
rugged, edgy look attached to his business look, and both looked quite nice
together. He had a raspy singer’s voice, was medium build and had the same
length hair as me.
His
opening line first words were, “Well, hello. You married?”
I replied (most likely starry eyed,)
“No.”
Without hesitation, his response was,
“Do you want to be?”
It
was one of those, “You had me at hello” moments. The man was stunning. He and I
got to work and proceeded with details of the show as I tried not to drool over
him when he threw a flirt my way. A few days after, he came by the store to
return the clothes. His casual wear looked as perfect on him as the GQ suit he
was initially wearing. What a way that man had about him.
I cannot recall how
our numbers were exchanged, I just know they were. I have tried to recollect
phone conversations because this was 20 years ago before cell phones, but I
simply cannot remember them. Who cares though?
I would not consider the time I spent
with him after that as “dating,” nor would I consider him the dating type
looking to marry. He was the epitome of a bachelor who lived like a rock star
and looked better than most of them, most likely not one to settle down or be
tamed. In spite of his rocker image, I cannot recall ever seeing him drink,
definitely never drunk. He did smoke brown cigarettes and looked very nice
during his smoke breaks, though smoking is typically not what I would consider
an attractive act. It just was when he did it.
When I think of him and that time, it
reminds me of the song “Strawberry Wine” (minus the sex.) Those memories are
electric and fun. Some people become tattoos and represent a part of us, a part
of our past when we were young, wild and free. He was one of those people for
me.
I have only a few specific memories
during that time and they are silly, insignificant ones. Like, he had a pet
ferret, the first one I had ever seen. He used Clorox bleach to whiten his teeth
and he surprisingly talked to his mom a lot. The only time I recall going
anywhere is funny and I have no idea how we got there or how to get back to the
location we ended up at.
It
was at night and we were driving around talking. We came upon a dock beside the
water and stopped. He had been at work and was wearing a likely $200+ suit, but
rolled the pants legs up as we sat with our feet in the water talking and
laughing about random things. I was and still am a super modest person, but it
was pitch black and the water was warm. We began a daring discussion about
jumping in. Though I remained modest, especially considering our relationship
was not as one may expect, meaning not a friends with benefits, I was game.
I
would have expected him to be the daring one of the two of us, but I was the
jumper. He started to a few times, but couldn’t bring himself due to getting
the nasty water on his suit since there were no towels, AND he didn’t want to
mess up his perfect mane of hair. Then, I made him turn around as I scaled the
side of that dock to get out because I heard something in the water and
discovered I was swimming with an otter. That did it for my modified, almost
skinny dip and I was out of the water quickly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I
have no idea how we lost touch, but we did. I married the exact opposite
description of my long-time, long hair, musician attraction. My husband was in
law enforcement with a buzz cut, BUT he could sing and play instruments! We had
a friend who encouraged him to enter a Garth Brooks sing a like contest at a
club downtown. He agreed, we went, and guess who was there? Faithfully still
managing clubs was the cutie patootie from my younger years … and he was still
adorable. I introduced the guys and felt so odd because that man still had some
hold on my attractive man button and I was happily married. I didn’t let it
show, but I remember wondering how those feelings could remain under my
circumstances. I suppose a cute man is simply a cute man, no matter what.
We
talked a little and caught up. He never once acted inappropriately and was very
respectful of my husband and marriage. He asked if I was still doing hair and
if I would do his. After that night, I saw him every few months for a couple of
years when his cool hair needed attention. At one point he had me cut length from his hair and I'm not sure which one of us was more nervous. Probably me. Then, I began doing his girlfriend’s hair
and his mom’s too. I loved to see him because it gave my memory and mind a
scent from days past. I only had good memories and having him stop by
every now and them kept them alive. Besides, our relationship was strictly fun,
we never spoke of love and such ... no drama attached.
Once again, distance came, probably
due to the craziness of one of our lives. He didn’t come very often anyway
because his hair was so long and didn’t require frequent salon visits. Plus, he
was obsessive about it and kept it up well on his own. After a long period of
time I realized I hadn’t seen him and wondered how he had been. We didn’t have
any mutual friends and I no longer had his number, probably lost in a cell
phone upgrade.
About 3 years ago I opened a Facebook
account and began racking my brain with names to explore how it worked. I
thought of his unique name and saw his profile picture, instantly knowing it
was him even though it was not a face shot. The profile picture was a man with
his head tilted down wearing his signature hat and holding an electric guitar.
I considered sending a message, but didn’t because part of me wanted to keep my
memories preserved. Life has shown me how people can change and I truly didn’t
want to take that chance. His profile was private, so I couldn’t really tell
much about how life was for him 10-15 years later. I just smiled and wondered how
he was doing, but never sent a message.
Today, I had some decompressing time.
I’m not a big FB user; in fact I had been reading articles about the negative
effects of FB usage this morning before I opened mine up. I do have an account,
but have less than 60 friends on it. For whatever reason, I thought I would use
the site for the positive purpose of connecting (or stalking) people you have
not seen in years. I went through a few names and out of no where, his name
popped into my head. I typed it in the bar and the search showed his same
profile picture. Just before I clicked that one, I noticed another one in the
results. It said, “In Memory of Our Friend” and displayed his name and picture.
I cannot describe how I felt to see
those words. My first reaction was surely
this is a mistake and he is simply being honored for all he has done in Nashville
I
read for about an hour and could not figure out why this heaviness was within
me. I doubt he gave me much thought, its not like we missed each other and if I
could talk to him now, I’m not sure what I would say. I know I probably
wouldn’t have sent him a message out of sheer fear that he would think I was
hitting on him or trying to rekindle something for myself from 2 decades ago,
and I wasn’t. These days communication between genders seems to complex. Yet,
something still hurt.
As
I looked through the pictures that were open and saw his sister’s children, who
I remember him bragging about and speaking of as they were his own, it became
more real. Life’s certainty and uncertainty surfaced. I realized that though I
hold all memories, his existence here on this planet kept that silly 18 year
old in me alive .. the one who had no adult worries or responsibilities. My only concerns at the time were merely choosing what outfit to wear that day. The part of that internal giddiness was extinguished this morning
and left with him. I am reminded how we never know whose path we will cross and
who will cross ours, or when distance is for a season or permanent.
Of
course, I now wish I would have sent that message 3 years ago, just to say
hello. I’m sure he never knew that he was a positive memory in my life, and
though I may not have told him if he was still here, I hope it matters
that he was. We were never in love, just 2 kindred spirits who were “Here for
the Party” and appreciated cuteness and fun. I never saw him unhappy and that’s
what I liked the most. Though I wouldn’t have intentionally sought him out,
I am sad to know our paths will never cross again by chance … but I’m glad our
paths crossed when they did.
Remembering,
Kasi
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