Redemption, Part II (if i was into that kind of thing)

When I was a sophomore in high school, I was living The Great American High School Dream. I was a varsity cheerleader who won the first "spirit award," my boyfriend (also a sophomore) was a varsity football player and a rising star on the team, I had two wonderful girlfriends (also cheerleaders), my grades were up, and my hair was pretty good, for the 80s.

I was really into my boyfriend. He was tall, kinda quiet, his clothes smelled great--so much so that I have a vivid sensory memory whenever I smell a similar detergent (and I've searched for years for the elusive detergent). We used to go to cheesy school dances and pep rallies, get pizza after the game, and make out in his parent's rec room. Get the picture?

But, over the course of a few days, Jack (names have been changed, not sure why) turned rather cold. Anxiety washed over me, and I wrote him a simple note in science class--"Why aren't you talking to me? What's wrong?"

The reply was passed from his seat at the back table to mine in the front. There, in simple boy scrawl, were the words, "I like Diane." Did I mention that Diane was one of my two wonderful girlfriends? And did I mention that she was skinnier than me, with more natural hair?

In a moment that far exceeds anything on "Saved By the Bell" or "Square Pegs"--because it was real, man--I actually bolted out of the room, barely containing my tears, even eliciting the clueless "Lulu!?" from my teacher, Mr. Science Teacher/Track Coach, who thankfully left me to myself.

Diane's locker was right beside mine, and I remember how they, like, immediately hooked up after Jack's admission, and how I had to endure jerking my books out of the teeny locker while they nuzzled right next to me. One dark day, I squatted down to get something from the bottom of the locker, blacked out for a moment, and fell on my butt. Right in front of them. Around this time is when I told my mother "I'll never get over this."

So what is the point of rehashing this humilating yet very typical tale from The Hell Years? Well...Jack and Diane went out all through high school. I went to my 10-year reunion and found out that they had never broken up! They got married, had three kids, and had never left Smallbury. She was a housewife--still pretty, still thin, with very natural hair. He had put on a significant amount of weight, was a cop in Smallbury, and had experienced very natural hair loss. It was fate! They really were Jack and Diane! They were a John Mellencamp song. My life, I was happy to fully realize after seeing all those jackasses that I went to high school with, was more like a Rolling Stones song. Totally rockin', totally fun, with lots of vice. And I had a totally cute 19-year-old lover waiting for me back in Rocky Mountain State. And I was at peace. I took a picture with them and we had a good time remembering the dark ages.

But even that, dear reader, is not why I wrote this. No, this story has a twist.

I just received an email from my mom. She went to the wedding of one of her friend's sons who is my age. Jack was there. When it came time to toss the bride's garter, he was among the single men on the floor and, believe me, probably would still display said garter on his rear-view mirror if he had caught it.

My mother asked someone sitting nearby, "Why is Jack out there with the single guys--isn't he married?"

It turns out that Diane, Midwestern Small Town Wife and mother of at least three . . . with presumably one lover her entire adult life. . .

. . . had left Jack . . .

. . . for Jill.