I’m still at the airport in Salt Lake City. I didn’t get on standby at 3:00, so I’m waiting to board a flight at 8pm.
It was torture for the first half hour but, with some coaxing from friends on Facebook, I have lightened my mood slightly.
Also, Regina Spektor and her Pandora-ites are loving on me right now. Remember that song, “The Freshman,” by The Verve from the mid-nineties?
Some version of that song popped up in my Pandora and I was rocketed back to 1996 and my first actual boyfriend. The first boy I felt like I loved that loved me back.
I was eighth grade and he was in seventh grade and we knew each other from church. We had a really cute little romance where we’d go play basketball together or I’d meet him at his house and we’d knock some balls in his batting cage. I was moving out of my tomboy phase but still not wearing makeup or anything like that, and so it was really wonderful to be able to have a boyfriend that thought I was cute even when I was covered in mud or covered in sweat, the back of my hair around my neck splitting into little humidity-powered curls.
He made me a mixed tape when I went with my family to North Carolina for Thanksgiving. It was the first (and only — CDs just aren’t the same) mix tape I ever received from a boy. He drew pictures on the cover of the liner and wrote a special love note for me on the inside. His cursive was twitchy and hard to read, but I remember tracing my thirteen year old fingers over the indentations on the page and feeling all leapy-hearted.
This song, The Freshman, was on this mix tape which, when I look back is pretty funny. I mean, exactly what about that song says, “I love you” or even, some other less defined sentiment? The bitch killed herself overdosing on valium in that song? But whatever, I’m not reminded of the lyrics of that song when I hear it, but I remember sitting in the guest bedroom of my grandparent’s house, using my grandmother’s ancient tape deck to listen to this mix tape, made just for me.