Growing Up

Well.

As you might imagine, waiting for Allen took some of the “shine” out of that New Year’s Eve. In fact, a petty person who was less grateful for her friends and the fun they had might even call it ruined.

Ruined or not, it certainly drained me of my zest for hosting.

The following New Year, Lena was volunteering with an Arts group that threw a huge party downtown. I went as her plus-one (she and Nick had stopped seeing each other after a while, when they realized they really didn’t have any common interests).

Two years after “Shine,” I went snow-camping (not an experience I’d recommend) with Adal and a group of his extreme-adventure loving friends.

The third year, I visited my sister and her husband in Florida for Christmas and stayed through the New Year.

By the time I tried to throw another New Year’s Eve party, the year I was 25, most of my friends were married with small children. Child care was an issue. So was getting home after midnight. Sleeping bags on the floor or couches weren’t as attractive as they were when we were all silly singles, and my friends didn’t want to be out on the roads “with the crazies.” 6 people showed up that year. Mark and Christina were the only couple. That was the last New Year’s party I threw. Someday... when I have a big house - or my friends’ kids are grown - someday, I will get back to celebrating with style. For now – well, for now I do the best I can. Which, this year, was driving around like one of those crazies in a car with a bum radio.

Allen did call the next day.

Turns out he was “rethinking our relationship.” He didn’t care for the "childish" way I got so excited about the party or the “juvenile” way we all behaved when we got together. He was “concerned,” he told me the next day on the phone, that I didn’t “seem ready for a mature relationship.”

Just like that it was over.
I was furious.
I was humiliated.
I was crushed. I was crazy about him. We had been friends for YEARS. We’d met in high-school. Adie had introduced us, in fact. She was one of the first people I met at Lincoln High School, and he was her next-door neighbor. When she was showing me around school she had warned me to stay away from him.

“He thinks he knows everything,” she had said. “He’s really got an attitude.”

I had avoided him for a while. An expert at moving and fitting in, thanks to my parent's nomadic tendencies, I knew it was a good idea to listen to the friendly people. They usually knew what they were talking about. Avoiding Allen just seemed to provoke him, though. He went out of his way to get to know me. He hid my books at lunch and threw things at me in class. He followed me down hallways. He waited for me at my locker.  He obviously didn’t like being dismissed. I thought it was charming.

We became friends. Great friends, actually. His old-fashioned manners really impressed me. So did his passion for all things automotive. Not that I was particularly into cars. I just appreciated the depth of his enthusiasm. I’ve never in my life been that interested in any particular subject.
When we graduated, he started the automotive repair program at the community college, and soon realized that he already knew everything they had to teach him. He found a professor who set him up with an internship at a custom shop specializing in classic cars. Within 6 months he was one of their “expert” restorers. That’s how deeply he committed to the things he loved.

He’d always seemed to enjoy my silliness. Once he said my “simple” outlook delighted him. He said it reminded him of Jesus' message that His followers should have a child-like faith. He’d encouraged me to get involved in the children’s programs at our church. He had told me I'd be a perfect fit, and he was right. Being child-like is fun. He’d always seemed to agree.

What had changed?

I'm sure there's a country song somewhere about a foolish girl getting her heartbroken by her highschool sweetheart. If not, then there should be. The soundtrack of my life certainly needs it, and I'm sure there are others out there like me.

There have to be.
Of course, if my life really did have a soundtrack, the next song would be the wedding march.