The papers always run those little ads: “Anyone who went to Central High, class of 1977, please contact . . . “
What they should say is, “Anyone who went to Central High, class of 1977, and is looking for romance, please contact . . . ” Reunions are like a big, steamy Club Med, but without the bathing suits, which gives them a great advantage. Even if people don’t look the way they did when they were 18, you still, sort of, remember them that way. And there’s a good chance that anyone who once rang your bells still knows where you keep your buzzer.
Which brings us to Frankie. Okay, she wished she was 10 pounds thinner, but even so, she was psyched for her 20th college reunion. She had kept in touch with one or two friends, but she hadn’t seen the rest of the class of ’77 since graduation. She had missed the fifth and tenth reunions, but she wasn’t going to miss this one.
“I was in a good, relaxed place in my life and eager to see old friends,” she says. “I was married with a child. I was happy professionally. Things were okay.”
Unfortunately, Frankie’s husband had a cousin’s wedding to attend that weekend, so Frankie went alone.
“The first evening there was a big gathering on the quad.”
She saw a few girls she remembered and a few professors who remembered her. And then she saw Rick.
They had had one of those teenage non-relationships. A lot of flirting, a lot of meaningful conversations, some heavy breathing, fighting over who knows what, and then nothing.
By junior year, they didn’t even run into one another, and over the years, Frankie heard very little about Rick. Well, actually she did hear that he lived in a wealthy community near campus and had done very well financially.
So here’s Frankie at the reunion and here’s Rick. They greeted each other warmly. After 20 years, neither of them could remember why their friendship hadn’t turned into a romance, but what difference did it make? They were here now and they were having a good time. A perfectly innocent good time.
“Nothing was going on. We showed pictures of our kids and spouses. But you could definitely feel an undercurrent of attraction, maybe the same one we felt when we were 19.”
Frankie and Rick saw a lot of each other that weekend. Sunday, when it was time to say goodbye, Rick gave Frankie his card. He had told her about his company, which was going public soon. They were looking for investors and Rick told Frankie if she wanted to learn more about the stock offering, etc., etc., she could call him at his 800 number. He would send her a prospectus. And they could chat. Keep in touch. Not let another 20 years go by.
Frankie put the card in her wallet. She was going to call once she got home. Rick was a brilliant businessman. Why shouldn’t she invest in his company and make some money?
“I was also intrigued by the idea of keeping in touch.”
Frankie thought about Rick on the plane home. And once she was home, she thought about him. But two weeks after she got home, she threw his card away.
“I decided I didn’t need the contact. It might have been fun, and flirting at my age is a treat. But I just didn’t feel right about it. The down side is I’ll never know if I might have gotten rich from investing in his company.”
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When was the last time you had sex? Are you married, single, male, female? How old are you? Send your tale to Cheryl Lavin, Tales from the Front, Chicago Tribune, 435 N. Michigan Ave., Chicago, Ill. 60611. Include day and evening phone numbers. Letters may be used in whole or in part and become property of the column.
