I ran into a guy from high school today. I went to school with him from about grade 7 through to 12. I knew of him before then, but he went to the private Catholic school.

He was always really nice to me. I never understood why. His friends were all super big dicks to me all the time, but he was really nice and made eye contact and listened and smiled and said nice things.

And I never got it.

Seriously. Most of his friends were my bullies. But he never was. He was always super nice.

It confused me a lot. Most of the time I thought he was making fun of me, but I don't think he ever was. Sometimes I thought he felt sorry for me, and maybe he did, after he caught me crying myself sick in grade eight after some of his friends were super big dicks to me.

I don't remember much about that. I think I'd been flying a kite and they pulled it down and stomped on it. Now I would just tell them to fuck off, but then I screamed at them and burst into tears and hid.

He found me. I don't know whether he'd come looking or what. I was so mad and unhappy I told him things I'd never told anybody, about how I wanted to open my own library that carried nothing but science fiction and fantasy novels, because they offered me the escape that nothing else ever had.

It was a dream that didn't last, but it stuck around for a few years.

I was so mad that everyone always was pressing their wants and needs and desires on me, but nobody ever stopped to ask me what *I* wanted.

Of course now I know that's just the way of the world, and if you want something, you have to make it happen.

But then...I was a soft and confused child with lots of feelings that I didn't know what to do with, and a weak grasp of reality.

Anyway.

Yeah.

I ran into him today. I was crossing the street when I heard:

"Rosemary?!"

And I looked around and there he was, in a pressed white shirt and a fancy douchy SUV.

"Well, I never!" I exclaimed. "Who's fancy car are you driving?" I laughed.

"It's mine," he said, with some embarrassment.

I laughed again and he said:

"Come up there a little. I'm going to pull over. I want to talk to you!"

So he did, and we did. He hugged me. He smelled nice.

He asked what I'd been doing. I asked what he'd been doing. He said he spent a year living off his music, but it was so stressful he took a real job as an accountant, and discovered his music was a lot better when he wasn't stressed out and starving.

I could relate.

He's living in an apartment with his girlfriend. I was disappointed to hear about the girlfriend. (A girl can always hope.)

He told me I looked just like I did when I was in high school, and I'm not sure if that's a compliment or not. Do I *want* to be different? I'm different on the inside. I like my outsides too, so I guess that's okay. My face doesn't have any wrinkles yet, except for the two forehead ones that everyone in my family develops in their teens.

I backed off before I felt the overwhelming urge to lick his face or something.

It was nice to see him. Weird. But nice.

And as usual, he was super nice to me.

I still don't get it.

.

~Rosie.

Before&After