The last boy in my high school life

 The other day a song came on the radio that reminded me of an old high school boyfriend.  And I really mean OLD, in that he was a good ten years older than me.  Don’t worry: we dated during my senior year, so I was legal in the eyes of Illinois.  Still, the idea does bother some, I know.  I don’t pretend to understand why he was interested in a high school girl that couldn't get into any of the clubs or bars.  He was nice enough: we had a standing date every weekend when we didn't work (we both worked at the United Center & Comiskey Park) and any random days during the week when I could get out of the house.  We saw pretty much every new movie that came out while we were dating and we spent a lot of time in the car just talking (ok…some talking…).  And it didn't hurt when I was assigned to his section during work, because that became makeout time (he was a Team Leader for our company, so I’m pretty sure that if they knew we were dating I would have been assigned to his section much less).

We met innocently enough: I was working his section at the ballpark and he was flirting pretty heavily (although he would later claim that he was just having fun, not flirting).  I had just broken up with my last boyfriend following my return from a rather strange internship, so I was rebounding hard and any attention was good attention.  I gave him my number after work and thus began our interesting 9-month courtship that, even after twelve years, I still don’t understand.

Maybe it was just me being a lovestruck teenager, but no matter how much I pressed the issue, it seemed as though I couldn't get *Juan to tell me he loved- hell, even LIKED, me.  Even after dating for nine months.  It was frustrating.  And I can’t even give him the benefit of the doubt that he was just in it for the intimacy of a younger woman; we never took it to that level and he never asked me.  But for whatever reason, for him, we were just hanging out.  Nothing more.  We weren't boyfriend and girlfriend.  But I stuck with him because I loved his stupid face.

Maybe he was just waiting for me to graduate high school before he pursued something more?  I never found out, as I broke up with him right after graduation so that I could be free to see as many college boys as I wanted.  However, I soon realized that I needed to get through the summer first, so I tried to ask him back out, at which point I was rejected because I clearly didn't have loyalty.

The irony wasn’t lost on me: what did he think the last nine months were?

After being rejected, I threw out the box of trinkets that I had collected during our courtship.  And I wondered how we could have accumulated such a history without being anything official in his eyes.  One of the items was a chocolate rose that he had bought for me when I had to work on Easter.  He’d had the day off, but he picked me up after work and had waiting for me in the car the rose, a pint of milk (I used to drink A LOT of 2% milk in high school) and a copy of Maxim magazine (I had recently told him about my attraction towards the fairer sex).  He then took me to the mall for some shopping and to see ‘Big Trouble’ at the movies, which I had been waiting to see since September 2001 (it was delayed for obvious reasons).  I had pretty close friends who weren't that tuned in to me; why would a non-boyfriend do such things for me?  I dwelled on these things after the fact, but at the time my stupid teenaged brain was too blinded by the “aww, how sweet”-ness of it all.

Juan was never cruel to me; he never called me names or was physically aggressive.  He was a genuinely nice guy.  Just weirdly distant.  At any point he could have ended it, but he still showed up to take me out to see whatever movie I wanted. 

I don’t get it.   

Don’t get me wrong: teenaged me enjoyed our time together, but I often wondered what was even the point.

Just like I wonder what the point of telling this story was.  Oh yeah: I heard a song on the radio that reminded me of an old high school boyfriend.  And I really mean OLD, in that he was a good ten years older than me…

*obviously not his real name, although all of my high school friends know his name because I never shut the hell up about him.