Made in Richmond

While stopping by the mall this evening, I walked into Macy’s and suddenly felt like I was 14 years old.

It was the cologne that did it.

Ross never wears cologne and never has. His natural smell (when showered and, who am I kidding, even when not) is deliciously wonderful and I would be devastated if he tried to cover it up. But, there was a time when I liked boys who wore cologne. Specifically one boy who wore cologne.

We’ll call him Jonathan because that was his name.

We had gone to school together since 6th grade, but I didn’t meet him until we were both in Mrs. Kass’s (why in the hell do I remember her name?) class for 8th grade science. This was the class in which I discovered the glory that is *boys.*

I don’t know why it was this class specifically, but that’s how I remember it. Before that class, I was able to tell if a boy was cute, but never felt any interest. Once that class started, I was well aware of the opposite sex and of Jonathan specifically.

I remember him as always being nice to me and that he smelled really, really good. Plus, I thought his brown hair, brown eyes, and dark skin were about the best thing ever. And I knew he liked me, too.

But alas, we couldn’t get our eighth grade acts together and our interactions never went beyond the 60 minutes we spent in class together.

Then high school happened.

I hadn’t thought much about Jonathan over the summer; I was too busy getting my braces off and going through Puberty: The Accelerated Edition. I remember being slightly disappointed that we didn’t have any classes together, but my new ninth grade wisdom told me that ship had sailed and not to give it another thought.

And then we saw each other in the hall and that ship turned right back around and headed straight for my 14 year old heart.

Various flirtations took place for the next couple months, leading up to when he finally asked me to be his girlfriend. A relationship an entire year in the making – I felt so grown up and mature.

We talked on the phone a lot and never saw each other outside of school. The only time we saw each other in the evening was when we met up to see the fall play. It was then that he gave me my first kiss in the hallway outside of the auditorium, next to the girls’ bathroom (across from the chorus room, for those of you who are familiar with this setting). I remember not enjoying the specifics of the kiss very much but it was a boy! who liked me! who wanted to kiss me! Who cares?!?!?

I got over the who cares part pretty quick.

A few months later (during the Blizzard of ’96, actually) I decided that I didn’t want to be Jonathan’s girlfriend anymore. While we talked on the phone that day, I told him so.

“I don’t think we should go out anymore.”

“What? Why?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t really want to.”

“Ok….well, can we be friends?”

“Yeah, sure.”

We weren’t.

We didn’t talk for 3 years after that. I felt pretty horrible about it.

I tried to talk to him right after it happened but he wasn’t into it. And then I was an asshole and got pissed at him for not wanting to talk, and just stopped trying.

By the time we were seniors, we had become so different from each other that it reached the point where it wasn’t even like we were those people who once went out. We’d see each other in the hall or at lunch, say hi and smile, both of us (well, at least me) thinking, “We went out? What was that all about?”

I’ve heard just a few things about Jonathan since we graduated, but nothing very specific. We haven’t had a full conversation since the day I broke up with him almost 12 years ago. But I still think about him from time to time.

Especially when I walk into a department store.