Sunday, August 2, 2009
So when I was in ninth grade I had this boyfriend (and I use the term loosely because he probably didn't consider himself my boyfriend at the time) who always wore a backwards maroon Polo hat. He wore the thing everyday day-in-day-out. Maybe he was superstitious? Anyway, so we used to do dorky things together like listen to LFO "I Like Girls That Wear Abercrombie & Fitch..." and meet for dates in Starbucks. Unfortunately, at the beginning of the summer he had to go off to Speed Reading/Soccer Camp (does that even exist?) and I was heartbroken. I did however write him multiple letters consisting of romantic sentiments such as, "How is soccer camp going? Score any goals yet?" He replied with equal enthusiasm, "I am learning to read whole books in under an hour and soccer has been going well too." This correspondence continued for an entire month, but there was one glaring difference in the letters that I wrote to him versus the letters that he wrote to me. While his letters were scrawled on a ripped out piece of lined notebook paper, mine were written in painstaking script on pale pink Borghese stationary (purchased at Kate's Paperie explicitly for this purpose) and spritzed with Ralph Lauren perfume. I thought that this combination would ensure that he wouldn't forget me over the summer. To make a long story short, the boy lives in Chelsea now, still wears the hat, and stood next to me in the video store today without showing even the slightest hint of recognition. Could he have completely forgotten me and the Borghese love letters? Now, until recently I was completely convinced that he had saved each and every one of those letters in one of those metallic bubble folders, as I had done with his, but now I am less confident of that fact. Unless he's just playing it cool and pretending not to know me, which I delude myself into thinking is entirely possible.