Written by Amy Stoltenberg
Photo by Amy Stoltenberg
You know that distinct trio of sensations consisting of tummy butterflies, cotton mouth and flushed cheeks? Those nervous, adolescent flusters that we all left behind in high school, along with romantic notions of the dreamy star quarterback and upperclassman crush? Well, after the total lack of any chemistry in my last three dates, I welcomed the return of these emotions when Thomas walked into the bar where I work one day to buy some coffee on a break from his night shift at the ice cream shop next door.
I originally met Thomas the summer after high school during one of my older friend’s “lost weekend” fraternity parties. He charmed me by granting me free dibs on his beer stash every night and by waking up early in the morning to come visit me at my 5 a.m. shifts at the coffee shop. Clearly, we were pretty serious before we both moved across the country for school.
Fast forward one year, when I saw the top of a slightly wavy, blond head come walking through the restaurant door. I instantly knew it was him. My face got hot and my armpits began to steam. I can assure you that the dialogue that followed was awkward interaction at its finest.
He ordered a black coffee, and I told him he could only have it if he made me an ice cream sundae in return. (Looking back, I would like to high-five myself for this uncharacteristically smooth flirtation technique.)
Thomas asked me to meet him on the rocks by the creek behind the building in an hour after his shift ended, so that we could trade the goods. Was this a drug deal or a date, I wondered? I decided that it was a date, because he invited me and there was food involved.
He arrived at the edge of the creek a while later with a brownie fudge sundae in hand, and I knew that it was going to be a good night. We sat side by side and spent the next couple of hours listening to the water flowing and the night bugs humming and feeling the chilled water rush over our feet.
In a rare demonstration of self-control, I took teeny little bites of that sundae, as part of my scheme to make our time last as long as possible.
Our conversation, though less intellectually stimulating than my spiritual Tea Garden discussions with Dave, was much more personable than the small-talk tittering of Santiago.
Thomas waxed on poetically about the frat-boy lifestyle, in a way that made my heart smile with affection at his quintessential collegiate zest. He said he thought it was “dope” that I was an artist, and I nodded encouragingly as he remembered how much fun he had in his 8th grade art class.
Being with Thomas morphed me into this profusely giggly, extremely smiley clone-alien version of myself, which usually comes across as more creepy than cute. It was like a flashback to the younger, less jaded version of myself that existed in high school.
But Thomas seemed pretty into it. And I was pretty into it, too – it felt good to be unguarded and a little vulnerable. Much like the cool, frozen ice cream that I savored that night, Thomas’ personality was satisfyingly refreshing – unassuming and completely detached from the hipster, pretentious world in which I usually dwell.
Going on a date with an old high school crush is an experience that I encourage everyone to partake in. Even though we went our separate ways at the end of the night (after a sweet and extended coffee-ice-cream-flavored goodbye), and even though he heads back to the frat house next week, that date with Thomas was a nostalgic break from the unattached and cool rendezvous of my “adult” life.
Sometimes I think that as our generation begins to embrace adult maturity, we forget what it’s like to experience emotions that we maybe can’t completely get a handle on. Before this summer ends, I encourage you to allow yourself get to that blushing, heart-pumping place of the young and enamored and infatuated.
After all, a little color to the cheeks really does a person good.