Everything about middle school makes me melangiddy. Yes, that's melancholy and giddy together. Like salt and sweet on the palate. Shows that involve the heartbreak of that special age (Wonder Years, Freaks and Geeks), fresh new feelings and discoveries. Songs from 1981-1983. Movies from the era. Anything with that confusing, die hard make or break oomph surging behind it.
I met Flip when we were both 12. I was actually obsessed with his brother, who I did go out with but only because I had a relentless girlfriend who either wouldn't stop jackhammering him about asking me out or more than likely, she probably threatened to hurt him if he didn't ask me out (Rest in Peace, Tammy!). We didn't do well as a couple and the boy that I chose was awkward with girls, quieter but incredibly mischievous. In passing time skipping school and doing whatever it was to just be around him, I met his younger brother, who is Flip. Long story short, his older brother had to be shoved outside with me in the freezing cold of winter for our first kiss while our friends peeked out the window. It was required to get back in the house. What pressure? Just a bunch of other 13 year olds checking us out for the big moment, a month and a half into the relationship. We just didn't act like a couple. We tormented each other with practical jokes, upping the ante wherever possible. Eventually he broke it off with me. And Flip and I started to hang out alone. Then REALLY alone. In a barn, in elevators, in movie theaters, just to slobber all over each other every single minute that we could. It was completely opposite of my "relationship" with his brother.
My junior high memories used to be fun to think about. As I watched Humanling tonight at the bowling alley, drooling over a classmate, it brought me straight back to the inevitable beauty and heartbreak of crushes and desire and the unknown. My own junior high memories are now tainted in a sense with this relationship gone really bad with Flip. We haven't just taken on the last three years. Now we've altered 1982-1983 severely. Looking back on those tender memories now just hurts as if it was a part of our current history. Neither of us listen to Journey. But if Journey comes on the radio, I think of That time. Which means I am thinking of him. When Steve Perry tells me he's coming to me with Open Arms, I believe that he's giving me a singing telegram from Flip. When Joe Elliott is not F-F-F-Foolin', I know he means we've got some serious stuff going on.
We would hold hands, walking through cemeteries, pretending to have accents from England, yet say we were from Florida. He couldn't get enough of kissing me then, as we'd hit the Stop button in the elevator and shut off the lights. There was a lot of heat for two 13 year olds!
And now it's just a whole lot of withdrawal. Unfortunately he seems to want all my compassion without looking outside of himself to see if anyone else was hurt from the shrapnel. He believes that since I am the one who cut it off, I must be throwing a World Without Flip party every night. I know that really, I'm better off. But Pollyanna has a hard time closing the coffin lid. If we can't get work this out, the early 80's have officially been destroyed for me. Another submission to the one in charge of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.
