Sweet, sweet nostalgia

Last night, Tim had Auggie in the bath, so I did something a little crazy. I called my high school sweetheart, who I have not heard from in many years. (Like, over 7 years, at least)

I was completely thrown for a loop when his machine picked up. I had prepared myself for several different possibilities (e.g., wrong number, his wife picks up, his girlfriend picks up, his “partner” picks up, he picks up, etc.), but not a machine. I listened closely to the outgoing message, and it sounded a lot like him, so I blundered my way through a message. I say blundered because there were several different avenues that such a message could’ve taken:

1. I could tell him the hour I spent the night before, searching Google for any reference to him, then the half hour I spent on whitepages.com, searching for his phone number, potentially scaring the living daylights out of him.

2. I could tell him that I had had a dream about him the night before and so I decided to give him a call, potentially scaring the living daylights out of him.

3. I could tell him that our 10 year class reunion was coming up and that I was hoping that he would come, so I thought I would give him a call to see if he had heard about it.

I chose Option 3, thank goodness.

When I told Tim what I had done, he said, ‘Hopefully, he won’t think you’re crazy.’ I gasped.

‘Do you really think that he might think that?’

Tim, sensing that he was treading in dangerous waters, backpedaled. ‘No, honey, I’m sure that he will be very flattered.’

I felt slightly better.

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that in my fragile emotional state of late, that the last thing that I should be doing is seeking validation from old boyfriends. And I would have to agree with you there. All last night and today, I walked around on eggshells.

What if he didn’t call? What if he thinks that I’m insane? What if his girlfriend hears the message first and erases it? Because up until I thought that, I was playing it all cool, like, if he didn’t call, then that’s his prerogative and maybe he wants to be left alone and leave high school behind, and I would leave it at that. But if he doesn’t get the message, or if I mumbled and he couldn’t get the number right off of the message, then, well, that’s a different story.

sigh. I swear that I am not psychotic.

He called. (Hi, Eddie!)

And, hopefully, I convinced him that I am not insane.