Life has happened. It passed you by with barely a goodbye. A “so long,” and a “see you later,” is all that's left; so much more you could have done with your life. We all have our bucket lists that we wanted to complete in life. Some do more than others, some never even get started. Welcome to Life as it Happened a fictional retelling of those real bucket list items we all hope to complete before our last candle is snuffed. All are welcome to join in and contribute the stories of how they think their experiences would go. I'm your host, Marc Sakol, and I'm here to say “Hello” before Father Time says, “Goodbye.”

Friday, August 6, 2010

Thanks That was Fun

By "Absolute" Marc Sakol

Item #1: Make out with my High School crush in the back seat of my car.
Date completed: June 22, 2019

This one is a little more personal then my past entries. I'm always nervous when I talk of my past. People generally find it had to believe when I tell them that I didn't always used to be the hilarious, adorable little love muffin that I am today. Seriously, people I am a gigantic toy house full of fun now. Back then though, you would have to use a number of seriously less colorful euphemisms and adjectives to describe me.

In High School, I was a ghost, literally (not literally). I went in Freshman year with a quick, quiet burst of wind and faded away with the current once Senior year was over. No girlfriends, only a few clubs, no sports, and almost no friends. Well I guess that last part isn't entirely true. There were groups of people I knew and sat with at lunch. Occasionally I talked with them in classes and in the halls. No one knew the real me though and I did my damnedest to make sure it stayed that way.

So, why do I find myself in my nicest suit

on my way to

my 15-year High School reunion.

I hated those people

they were vapid, vain and stupid,

caring only for their cliques and status.

Why do I feel the need to prove myself to them.


Well, I don't need to...

but maybe I want too. I did my best to hide myself in the shadows, but it isn't like any of them tried very hard to know me. Maybe I'd like to see what it's like to walk into a room and have someone say, “Hey, isn't that Marc from Biology? When did he get so cute/handsome/adorable/rich.”

I guess I didn't hate everyone, there were a few people who understood how exactly this brain of mine worked then. Ryan and Tim were always there to back me up and I could always count on Bob to be my wing-man when I got into a sticky situation. Maybe wing-man isn't the best term, I didn't have any real luck with the girls back then. Now-a-days it's like “flavor of the week” with me, but back then I was unlucky in love. The closest thing to a girlfriend was a girl who was my friend, Corrine. She was more tom boy then girl but she had a cute face, large breasts for her age and knew how to put me in my place. It was one of those “why then hell are you hanging around me,” relationships with her. I admit though-

Part of me hopes she's here tonight.

I reprise my role as teenage ghost when I get to the event. I hide in shadows and avoid people, glancing at name tags and trying to place faces with memories.

“Did you here she's pregnant?”what do you mean she died?”How have you been?”You married who?”

“Que Pasa!”OMG, you look great!”Have you seen Marc Sakol?”Hey girl hey!”working for NASA as an astronaut.”I'm moving to China next Thursday.”haven't seen you since Murtog's birthday.” hold on.

Where did that come from. You heard it too right? Who could possibly be looking for me.

I look across the room, 2 guys and a girl. One of the guys was Bob, I'd recognize that goofy smile anywhere. I'm guessing the other is Tim or Ryan. That girl though... I'd say something like she was a tall drink of water or some such thing, but I'm not that cliché. She was gorgeous though. Long brown hair to match her long tan legs, cute baby face, the whole package. For the life of me though, I can't place the name, I assume it's Corrine though. I'd recognize those breasts anywhere.

My name tag conveniently finds it's way onto my jacket as a sidle my way behind her. I scare her slightly as I suddenly appear from behind her with a quiet, “gentlemen.” We all explain pleasantries with each other. By that I mean, Bob jack's me in the stomach for not staying in touch and Ryan gives me his card with all his contact information on it. Corrine stayed quiet, which is odd seemed odd for her. I spent four years of my life trying to get her to shut up.

We talk and get to know each other all over again. They tell me of their jobs and lives and for the life of me I feigned interest as best I could. Corrine tells us about how she's between jobs now, having just quit from a law firm in Chicago. The night goes on, Bob and Ryan both eventually go, leaving me with Corrine. We make the obligatory awkward small talk befitting situations like this. My natural charm and sense of cockiness seem to have taken their mandatory five minute break. She makes some comment about needing air and asks if I want to join her outside.

Well, the natural playboy in me wants to take her out back and wreak that shit if you know what I mean, so of course I join her.

It's warm out and neither of us can think of anything to say.

“You wanna go make out in my car?” she asks

“yes” I reply.

What seems to be histories first recorded instance of superhuman speed, we made it into her car in a matter of seconds. Of course, Murphy's law kicked in moments after the heavy petting began.

We kissed.

It sucked.

We both pulled away and sat quietly. It was clear that we were both looking back at the past through rose-tinted glasses. I tell her the world has a funny way of making fools of us. She tells me that her feelings since High School have moved on. We talk for hours, reintroducing each other to ourselves. It feels natural, sitting here talking, like finding a long lost sister.

Ah Jesus... I just made out with my sister... sort of.

I guess the moral of the story here sweet children: Don't make out with your sister, seriously. It's gross and wrong. I'm marking this item as completed.

Then I'm going to forget it ever happened.

No comments:

Post a Comment