A Long Story about an Old Boyfriend

So y’all knew the time would come that I’d find the occasion to write about an old boyfriend…

And over the weekend, while at the Brew Fest in Indianapolis (with Eric), and while complaining that I NEVER SEE ANYONE I KNOW while visiting Indianapolis, some random guy yells at me, “It’s Dena Riggs!”

Initially, I had NO CLUE who the guy was—sunglasses, baseball hat, some extra pounds and twenty five odd years later. Who could blame me for bombing the recognition? But I’m an excellent conversationalist, I recovered quickly. And although, “catching up” with an old boyfriend and your current husband can be AWKWARD (!!!), I was happy to have FINALLY run into an old friend.

I’m not sure I would have even thought to share this story if Eric and I had walked away and the story ended there. But it didn’t….

It was 90+ degrees outside and Eric had been drinking samples of micro brews (i.e. IPA’s with higher alcohol content) for close to three hours. And although his speech wasn’t affected, he was walking fine, and not acting the least bit loopy by the beer, he got a little jealous—that kind of jealous that can only be alcohol-induced. And the next few hours, which included dinner with our kids and my parents, his behavior towards me (and everyone) was very stilted and weird—to the point where Andrew wondered “what’s up Daddy’s butt?” when Eric excused himself from the table for his third trip to the bathroom AND my mom asked about 30 times, “Is he okay?” (when she probably really meant, “Is he drunk?”).

My mom would have been surprised to know that Eric’s panties were twisted in a knot over running into a high school boyfriend—especially if I put Eric up next to this guy for a side by side physical comparison.
So, I mentioned the extra pounds on the old boyfriend, right? Well, it wasn’t excessive, but this guy hasn’t aged nearly as well as Eric and he certainly doesn’t hit the gym the way Eric does—i.e. nothing to worry about here. Add in our 15 years together and the state of marital bliss and you’d have thought Eric had been drinking for much longer.

But, a little beer and a little sun and all Eric focused on was this statement I made: “He was the senior class president when I was sophomore and he was so hot and quite literally the coolest guy in school.”
Now, in retrospect… Yes, that kind of description is not a good idea. Especially on a hideously hot day where lots of beer is involved.
By later in the evening, when we met up with our close friends Lisa and Adam, it was all water under the bridge, just another “Dena Story” as Eric likes to call these incidents when old boyfriends pop up out of the woodwork.

I know this post is getting long, but my whole point is to tell you the story of my history with this guy. I want to tell it mostly because I’m going deep into the archives on this one—1984!!! But I also want to tell it to prove the point (mostly to Robin!!) that even as a married chick, these old dating stories can still come out to play.

To begin, I should clarify that my use of “old boyfriend” is a term that I use very loosely AND liberally in this post because I’m not only going all the way back to 1984 when I sophomore in high school before I really could say I had a “BOYFRIEND”, but I’m also ONLY talking about a few rides home after school, one official date, and one other incident of a drunken visit to the Brown House that included a conversation with my dad and an empty beer can on my dad’s brand new purple 7-series pimp daddy BMW.
Brett Alan Thomas… it’s all about you, baby.

Can I do this? Mention his name directly without changing it?

I know in publishing I’d have to change his name. But here?

Well the name is significant because Brett’s initials obviously spell BAT and the black car that Brett drove to and from school was aptly and affectionately called “The Batmobile.”

Do I EVEN NEED TO TELL YOU that I was totally smitten?

As luck would have it, we had just received computers at our school (it was 1984, remember?) and so everyone—from seniors down to freshman—were in the same boat when it came to eligibility for computer class. I’m not quite sure how the lottery system worked, but I hit the jackpot because I had computer class with Brett Thomas in the LAST PERIOD of the day!!! Computer class would end, we went to our lockers, we went home. Well, Brett drove his friends in the Batmobile and I walked with mine.

However, just a few weeks into the semester I got invited to ride home in the Batmobile.

At the time, I remember, it felt like a carefully planned coup to position myself at the right place and right time to get Brett’s attention outside of computer class, but so many years later… I’m not sure all that matters. I got the ride.

I’m pretty sure I must have ditched my friends, but it’s hard for me to remember. But how could I not have ditched my friends when I ditched out on babysitting for our neighbors (my parents best friends at the time) to go on a date with Brett in his new car, a HONDA CRX (the first year these came out).

I remember that I walked over to the neighbor’s house and told them the truth: Senior class president with a new car asking ME (little sophomore girl) to go out on a date and how I just couldn’t miss this very important OPPORTUNITY in my career as social person in high school AND as a consolation (and a token of my good will) I’ve got a substitute babysitter for you that is almost as good as me--just a little punk rock, but very nice.

They were pissed and never asked me to babysit again (rightfully so).
If I was that flaky with the neighbors, I’m sure I was equally flaky to my friends over this month or two of Brett Thomas infatuation. I was totally off the deep end! I kept rationalizing it with this:

It WAS Brett asking ME on a DATE and it WAS the CRX….

That’s how I was back then—all about the pretty boy in the nice car. I was just a sophomore—and a young one at that. At the time of this date, I was only 15. And by the time the date was over, I’d re-thought my “pretty boy, nice car” obsession, anyway.

In my diary I wrote this about the date: “If the rest of my life is going to be like my date with Brett where I feel like it’s going to awesome and it ends up just being mediocre, then just shoot me now and get it over with. I can’t stand the disappointment.”

I think we went to a football game, but maybe it was basketball season because I have a vague memory of wearing boots with my jeans. But whatever…

I remember being parked somewhere in that little CRX for about an hour before it was time for me to go home ( I had an 11pm curfew). Mostly we talked. And then there was kissing. I remember feeling awkward—like the car was too small and the gear shift was always in the way. I remember thinking about moving over to his side, but that would have put me on top of him which was not the message I was trying to send, despite his cool car and his senior class president status. So awkwardly, I stayed on my side of the car, left feeling like a new puppy licked to death by its overly excited mother. There just seemed to be a lot of saliva.

Maybe that was my fault. I was the one with braces. He had a perfect smile. I was also the one new to making out in cars. He was, afterall, the senior class president with the cool car. I might have been the first in the CRX but I wasn’t going to be the last.

So, maybe I’m to blame for the bad date. Maybe I was just inexperienced and… not sure…

When I got home, I remember feeling let down, like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz when she saw behind the curtain and the Great Oz wasn’t so great… just a regular guy.

Brett liked our date, as evidenced by the attention I kept getting from him in school. OR—now that I’m grown up with a fuller view of the world, I wonder if he felt his lack of “bases” with me in the CRX constituted a higher level of interest and energy. Whatever it was, he kept offering to take me home in the Batmobile and just as I was wondering how I was going to get out from under my association with him (so I could of course pursue someone else) there was Hank the Tank’s party—one of the biggest and craziest parties to take place that year.

Brett asked me to go with him and I said yes, even though I wasn’t that into it. But then an important business dinner out with my parents derailed Brett’s initial plans to drive me, as his date, to the party in the CRX. Instead, I planned to meet him there. That meant that my dad would have to drop me off after dinner. And by the time we rolled down the street where Hank the Tank lived, the party was in full swing and there were already people passed out on the lawn.

My dad refused to let me out of the car.

At home, alone in my bedroom, I cried that my dad didn’t trust me enough to be a good girl at a really bad party.

A few hours later, just after 11pm, the doorbell rang.

It was Brett Thomas…

BOLDLY asking my dad if it would be okay, despite the time, to sit on the porch and talk to me.

My dad was furious but in some ways at a loss for words to this kid who showed up at such a late hour hoping to have a conversation with his daughter (“Did I hear right? You want to talk to my daughter in the middle of the night, after you’ve been drinking? And what could you possibly want that can’t wait for a decent hour?”).

In the morning, my dad found a crushed Budweiser can sitting on the bumper of his new BMW—the big 7-series with a deep blue paint job that made it look like millionaire-purple in the sunlight. This car was off the hook for 1984 (which is why I’m sure my dad had parked it on the street and not in the garage). He loved that car.

But a beer can on the bumper, combined with a late night request for me, and forget about it!

There was no way I’d be able to officially go out with Brett Thomas again. And so I was saved…and on to others…

Brett came up again in college and I think he may have even married one of my sorority sisters. From our conversation outside the Brew Fest, I learned that he has no children and for some reason I think he’s divorced.
Don’t get me wrong about outing him on the extra pounds. He still looked great and really, he couldn’t have been nicer. My dad thought it was ironic (because of the can) that I would run into Brett all these years later at a Brew Fest. Me? I was excited to finally see someone I know.
I told him that I tell stories about him to my kids. How he had the batmobile and the CRX and that he was one of the coolest guys in school. Brett smiled and that made me happy.

It’s not yet time to tell the kids the other parts of the Brett Thomas story—about making out in the CRX or the incident after Hank the Tank’s party. But someday….

And then someday after that , I’ll add on the part about their daddy getting jealous while feeling a little buzzed on a hot afternoon. And for them , that will probably be the best part. In a sense, it was for me. I knew it was a long road for me to find a “lifetime boyfriend” but this story makes me think I was looking for longer than I thought.