Wednesday, March 17, 2010

A St. Patrick's Day Memory


As you all go out and celebrate another day where the goal is to get as smashed as possible on green beer and Irish cheer, I'm going to take a few to go down the memory lane of a St. Patrick's Day past.  Yes there was beer.  Yes I was smashed. But it was all good.

It was the spring of 1995 I believe. I had been a mess the entire year leading up to that point. Another story for another time...at this point I was just beginning to get my head back together.  I was still living in small town in Illinois. It was a year and a half or so out of high school.  Everybody was back in town for spring break.   

It was a weekend night at a local sports bar at the time named Casey's.  I went over there with a couple of friends with no expectations.  You have to understand that in high school, although I was friendly with most everybody, I didn't really belong to any one clique nor was I all that popular with the boys...or so I thought.  When I graduated and started showing up at all the hangouts, I got all this talk about how they always liked me...

Sidenote: Dear boys/men...if you like a girl, let her know.  She might actually like you back.  Otherwise she'll spend all that time thinking that no one is interested, when all you had to do is ask.

Back to the story...so I show up and a high school crush was there.  Hell, everyone who was in town was there.  Wait...it's a bit blurry...besides being so long ago, there was beer.  This high school crush may have actually taken me there on a date.  Crap I wish I wrote this down at the time. 

Either way, this boy was the all-American.  He was a few years older than me. He had a band.  And a red Mustang.  He was a blond haired beauty.  Crushes abounded around him. And, he was interested...in me.  I know.  I may be more shocked at this than anyone.

So there was dancing...and everybody was packed into this small sports bar, including an ex...my first real long-term boyfriend who I was with about 2 years...the girls who were popular when we were in high school, the boys who said they had crushes on me, the other boys I had crushes on, upperclassmen home for the break. You get the idea. Everyone.  

And Mr. All-American was there. 

With me.  

And right before last call, there was a kiss. It might have been the first kiss.  Ok, it was the first kiss. In the middle of the dance floor. Of the very crowded sports bar.  And when I opened my eyes, I was shocked to discover that all eyes were on us.  Because for the lovely eternity of that kiss, I forgot they were there.

And it was the very first time I realized...that life can be much better than anything you could ever dream for yourself...if you give it a chance.

And I didn't need a four-leaf clover.  Just faith.


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