[November, 1988] You Have a WHAT??
Marcela gave me a letter and she wants us to be friends again! Isn’t that great. She told me to read the letter after school but I couldn’t wait.
Yesterday I went on my monitor job with George and after school he started to tell me something but did not finish. What he did say is “I have a” that is it!
But I do have an idea what it is.
I wrote him a note to meet me by the fountain but he did not come. Right now I think I understand but I still am pretty pissed off!
Back in the days before email and text messages, when we didn’t want to communicate face to face, we had to do it the old fashioned way: pen and paper. I was a big fan of the note/letter, which was indicated in the way I chose to anonymously profess my affections to Charles.
This was just the beginning. In years to come I would draft unsent missives in diaries to let off steam, send fan and love letters, as well as develop countless friendships around the world by way of being pen pals. To this day I still miss getting letters in the mail, going through the process of opening an envelope, unfolding pages, and reading handwriting on the page.
It’s no wonder that Marcela’s letter had an impact on me. Not only did she take time to put pen to paper and discuss our friendship, she had something I did not have: pretty handwriting. Marcela’s girly penmanship included i’s dotted with hearts, rounded and perfectly curved letters, and lower case a’s that looked like typewritten a’s, not like lower case o’s with a tail, the way we were taught at school to make them.
Despite accepting Marcela’s peace offering, it wouldn’t be long before our friendship hit another bump. But for now, I could rejoice in our reconciliation (and steal her way of writing a’s, which I did for many years to follow).
As for George, I suspected that he probably was close to confessing a crush on me. The “heated” competition for vice president could very well have stirred up some feelings in him toward me. What I didn’t understand is: a) why he didn’t finish professing his “like” for me and b) why I couldn’t bully it out of him by requesting–nay, demanding his presence at the water fountain.
I couldn’t believe he didn’t show up. When my plan to uncover the rest of that sentence failed, I did the next best thing, which is get angry at George. Can anyone blame me? How dare he start saying something that maybe-but-not-definitely was to tell me he liked me, but leave me hanging like that (never mind that I was ambiguous in my own feelings toward George). The nerve of some people!