Two stories come to mind when I slide into this John Butler Trio scribble tee: The How-I-Got-It part, and the How-I-Didn't-Get-It part. Both make awesome memories and both take place in the second half of Year 12 ... that endless summer of 2003.
How-I-Didn't-Get-It part:
I could've kissed her.
Yep, for sure.
Really?
Yeah, I was in.
Really?
Well, you'll never know -- now.
This is what I hear in my head every so often when I pull out this old John Butler Trio T-shirt. (The other times, I'm thinking of the Claires, as you can read here.)
And no, it's not like a tear-me-up-inside fire of doubt that rages inside -- I'm very happily married to Laura, who is, without bias, the most beautiful and lovely carbon-based being in this galaxy and George Lucas's.
(Hear that, Princess Leia? Laura destroys you on the gorgeous-o-metre!)
The shirt just makes me slightly curious and a smudge wistful; like when I've nailed a front page photo and look at it the next morning and think, "what if I'd brought in another flash…"
I wouldn't change a thing if I had the power to … even if it would spare me the embarrassment of this story.
The place: Year 12 After Party, December '03, Captain Audrey Park club house.
The situation: My date had all but abandoned me as soon as I got her past the bouncer at the door (heartbreaker), but I was fast getting over it, because, against all odds, I'd found myself slow dancing with a rather lovely young lady.
For her sake, we'll rename her to, let's say, um Zany Redridge.
(On a totally unrelated point -- I think it's fun to rhyme, don't you?)
Zany Redridge. Yikes. Several years worth of history was coming to a head right at that moment.
She says, "hey, Ben? I like your shirt," and I almost pass out.
Is this really happening to me?
I'd had a crush on her since, like, the start of Year 11, and every now and then I reckoned she liked me a bit, too, but circumstances never led it anywhere.
You could define "unicorn" with her description, so 18-year-old me thought. (Fabled creature, impossible to capture: Gone in 60 Seconds.)
So we're dancing, and the music is slowing, and we're like really dancing, and my head's getting that fuzzy glow about it, and I'm hoping her's is too.
You'll agree that this was a pretty nice place for a teenager to be, right?
Right.
So why why, did I start listening to my stupid brain.
It says: "Ben, you should go check on your date."
No way. Not listening to that, says the rest of my body. Gonna stay right where I am. Nowhere I'd rather be.
Smart, right?
Right.
So my mouth says: "Hey Zany."
She smiles, eyes wide. "Hey Ben."
My mouth says: "I'm gonna check on my date."
And felt instantly like someone doused our cosy encounter with an icy spray from a firehouse.
"Oh--".
And that was that. Amy was gone.
Why'd I say that? Still don't know today.
Why did I blog this on the interweb and link it to facebook, knowing my mates will tease the crap out of me?
Part of it is 'cause my T-shirts thread me to memories that helped me grow as a person. That night, as I slow-danced into paralysis I learned what I hope any other teenage dude reading this will learn too.
After you read this, Teenage Dude, I want you to promise me something.
If you ever find yourself in the arms of a girl you'd been crushing all high school, don't think, just kiss her. Or at least try to.
Don't over brain it. Trust in your T-shirt.
But even if you bottle it, it's not so bad.
It may take a few years, but you'll meet a girl to love that is every bit as awesome to you as Laura is to me, and everything will turn out golden.
B--
