Hot pots

I was at a party last night and someone brought up a mutual acquaintance of the group who recently repeated a mistake for the umpteenth time. The phrase that occurs to me in these situations is, “Even my cat knows that if he gets burned by a hot pot, he doesn’t sniff it again.” I didn’t vocalize it because the person needs sympathy more than criticism.

Last night, Robyn popped up on a site maintained for chat among our high school class. I think I stopped breathing. Then she contacted me through the site to say hi. I know I stopped breathing.

Throughout junior high, we circled each other like two panthers, trading quips. Her keen wit was certainly an attraction but I’m not discounting the doe eyes and athletic figure. I’m not sure what the attraction was on her part. She was one of the class brains and I’d guess that I was the “bad boy” her mother warned her about, making me the forbidden fruit.

Her class schedule was the high academic track so we didn’t intersect much there and she didn’t hang out at any of the dances around town. It didn’t seem like it was written in the book that we would get close enough to close the deal.

But then destiny took a hand. The summer of my sophomore year, I took a job in a day camp. I showed up for the counselor orientation and who was sitting on a bench two rows ahead of me but Robyn. Jackpot! I don’t think I heard a word of the lecture. My mind was reeling with the possibilities. Thank you, God! I immediately retracted the sentiment since what I had in mind had little to do with religious canon.

After the meeting, we picked up right where we left off the last time we saw each other at school, trading flirts and double entendres. Oh yes, this would be the summer to end all summers.

But destiny wasn’t done with me. The second week of camp, Robyn didn’t show up at the mess hall and word was that she had doubled over and they took her to the hospital. The next day we were told she had had an appendectomy. I asked around and found that recovery was usually fairly quick for that. But, the following week we were informed she wouldn’t be returning because her parents wanted her to take it easy for the rest of the summer. That’ll teach me to invoke the name of the big guy.

I was crushed, disconsolate, and frustrated beyond redemption. However, I did manage to take up with another counselor the following week. Teenage boys are resilient. And, there was always the chance of hooking up with Robyn once the school year commenced.

But fate is fickle. The girl I dated through the camp was a year or two older than I and it became apparent this was a summer fling. However, she had a sister my age who was even more appealing and I managed to pull off the impossible; the transition.

The sister became my girlfriend through much of high school. We parted ways at graduation, something I blogged about previously. The subject of that was tracking down the old girlfriend after decades of a void, which is what I did on a whim. Faithful readers will recall that she was beautiful and smart and I was anxious to learn how she had leveraged her assets. They will also remember that I was crushed to discover that she had done virtually nothing and squandered her gifts. Nothing at all like I had imagined and I regretted the reunion. I would’ve been much better off remembering her as she was.

I also lost track of Robyn. From high school, she went to one of the Ivy League colleges on a full scholarship. Upon graduation, she went to Oxford (England) for a graduate degree and the trail went cold after that.

This morning we were trading emails and she hinted at getting together. My pulse quickened but I recalled the experience with my high school sweetheart. Still, I don’t think I can resist.

“Even my cat knows that if he gets burned by a hot pot, he doesn’t sniff it again.”