There she was, the girl of my pre-adolescent dreams. Denise Mastrini stood, smiling brightly, her deep blue eyes staring at me like mirror images of a vast ocean. I was twelve years old, just discovering that girls were different from boys in very delightful ways.
Especially Denise Mastrini.
Just in front of her was another Denise, but this one a Nielsen, who just so happened to be interrogating me relentlessly.
"So, I heard you like Denise," she said accusingly. "Is it true?"
I looked at my Denise, who was still smiling, albeit a little mischievously.
In the span of seconds I carefully weighed my options. Say yes and maybe, just maybe, I discover that Denise likes me too. My entire world changes - at least for a little while. Or, she and the other Denise laugh hysterically as they mosey away. They tell all their friends and I suffer humiliation and ridicule for even considering the possibility.
Say no, everyone shrugs, walks away and I am safe.
"No, not really," I stammer, and my heart sinks like a cold stone in dark water. The girls do in fact shrug, and walk away.
Thirty-seven years later, I recall that one minute scene to mind with absolute clarity.
Why?
Because regret weighs tons.
Angie Muller was another pretty girl I knew, this time in high school. Louis, my best friend, had gone out with her the year before so Angie and I became friends. One night Louis and I were out driving around in my Mom's car and we decided to visit Angie.
She answered the door in rather revealing pajamas. Sweet. And she was alone. Her family had gone bowling. Angie invited us in and we sat down on the couch with her in the middle. Not long after, she placed my hand, not Louis', on her thigh. I do not know why, but the thought occurred to me there was no way I was going to lose my virginity in a threesome, especially with another guy involved. I didn't really have to worry about that, however, because Louis had to get home, and I needed to drive, and Angie was interested in something else.
On the way out, Angie asked me for a kiss and whispered that she wanted me to come back alone. I explained all sorts of reasons why I could not - and every one of them was a lie.
I was just plain scared.
And yeah, I remember all this like it was yesterday.
Regret weighs tons.
I still do not know why I turned down Christine Steingart. It wasn't even about sex. She simply called to ask me to the senior prom and I said no thanks. Christine was thin and athletic with sharp features and striking red hair. We ran track together for years. She was really nice and would have made a great prom date.
But I chose to stay home alone, and I still don't know if Chris went to the prom with another, or by herself, or not at all. I do know she had no interest in speaking to me at our ten year reunion.
Regret weighs tons. It lays heavy on our hearts and minds because we know deep down we are capable of better.
Just so I put it out there, my childhood regrets are not entirely related to my struggles with the opposite sex. I regret not learning to hit a fastball and not going out for rec football one more time. I regret not spending the summer in Ocean City when I had the chance. I regret quitting college track just when I might have been ready for my best season, and I deeply regret not becoming a writer at an earlier age.
But the ones with the girls, they are the ones that remain etched in my memory and have played a seminal part in my development as a human being, especially in how I relate to women.
I learned through those experiences to play it safe and avoid rejection at all cost. As the years passed, risk became something to shy away from, and as a consequence, my spirit slowly crumbled underneath my self-protective barrier. I lacked confidence in a big way. I was still a man, but I was far less than the one I could be and should be.
To dig my way out required two things primarily. One, I had to embrace change. Not merely accept change, but embrace it. Second, I had to learn how to allow risk into my life. To some measure I have succeeded. As for the regrets of the past, they have become a conduit to lead me to making better choices.
It was not easy. It never will be easy, and that's okay. There was a great deal of taking two steps forward and two steps back, and managing scant progress through much trial and error. Looking back, I wish I could have told Denise "Yes, I really like you," and I wish I had just told Angie I was scared. I wish I had taken Christine to the prom. I cannot change my past, but my future is ahead of me. My present decisions will determine my outcomes - every day - one step at a time.
Regret weighs tons.
The opposite of regret is not the lack of regret. Peace is the opposite of regret.
It is as light as a feather.
George is a freelance writer and author of the inspirational novel Long Shot - Somewhere Between Slim and None. He writes about motivation, inspiration, men's issues and health and fitness. http://www.squidoo.com/Long-Shot-eBook
There she was, the girl of my pre-adolescent dreams. Denise Mastrini stood, smiling brightly, her deep blue eyes staring at me like mirror images of a vast ocean. I was twelve years old, just discovering that girls were different from boys in very delightful ways.
Especially Denise Mastrini.
Just in front of her was another Denise, but this one a Nielsen, who just so happened to be interrogating me relentlessly.
"So, I heard you like Denise," she said accusingly. "Is it true?"
I looked at my Denise, who was still smiling, albeit a little mischievously.
In the span of seconds I carefully weighed my options. Say yes and maybe, just maybe, I discover that Denise likes me too. My entire world changes - at least for a little while. Or, she and the other Denise laugh hysterically as they mosey away. They tell all their friends and I suffer humiliation and ridicule for even considering the possibility.
Say no, everyone shrugs, walks away and I am safe.
"No, not really," I stammer, and my heart sinks like a cold stone in dark water. The girls do in fact shrug, and walk away.
Thirty-seven years later, I recall that one minute scene to mind with absolute clarity.
Why?
Because regret weighs tons.
Angie Muller was another pretty girl I knew, this time in high school. Louis, my best friend, had gone out with her the year before so Angie and I became friends. One night Louis and I were out driving around in my Mom's car and we decided to visit Angie.
She answered the door in rather revealing pajamas. Sweet. And she was alone. Her family had gone bowling. Angie invited us in and we sat down on the couch with her in the middle. Not long after, she placed my hand, not Louis', on her thigh. I do not know why, but the thought occurred to me there was no way I was going to lose my virginity in a threesome, especially with another guy involved. I didn't really have to worry about that, however, because Louis had to get home, and I needed to drive, and Angie was interested in something else.
On the way out, Angie asked me for a kiss and whispered that she wanted me to come back alone. I explained all sorts of reasons why I could not - and every one of them was a lie.
I was just plain scared.
And yeah, I remember all this like it was yesterday.
Regret weighs tons.
I still do not know why I turned down Christine Steingart. It wasn't even about sex. She simply called to ask me to the senior prom and I said no thanks. Christine was thin and athletic with sharp features and striking red hair. We ran track together for years. She was really nice and would have made a great prom date.
But I chose to stay home alone, and I still don't know if Chris went to the prom with another, or by herself, or not at all. I do know she had no interest in speaking to me at our ten year reunion.
Regret weighs tons. It lays heavy on our hearts and minds because we know deep down we are capable of better.
Just so I put it out there, my childhood regrets are not entirely related to my struggles with the opposite sex. I regret not learning to hit a fastball and not going out for rec football one more time. I regret not spending the summer in Ocean City when I had the chance. I regret quitting college track just when I might have been ready for my best season, and I deeply regret not becoming a writer at an earlier age.
But the ones with the girls, they are the ones that remain etched in my memory and have played a seminal part in my development as a human being, especially in how I relate to women.
I learned through those experiences to play it safe and avoid rejection at all cost. As the years passed, risk became something to shy away from, and as a consequence, my spirit slowly crumbled underneath my self-protective barrier. I lacked confidence in a big way. I was still a man, but I was far less than the one I could be and should be.
To dig my way out required two things primarily. One, I had to embrace change. Not merely accept change, but embrace it. Second, I had to learn how to allow risk into my life. To some measure I have succeeded. As for the regrets of the past, they have become a conduit to lead me to making better choices.
It was not easy. It never will be easy, and that's okay. There was a great deal of taking two steps forward and two steps back, and managing scant progress through much trial and error. Looking back, I wish I could have told Denise "Yes, I really like you," and I wish I had just told Angie I was scared. I wish I had taken Christine to the prom. I cannot change my past, but my future is ahead of me. My present decisions will determine my outcomes - every day - one step at a time.
Regret weighs tons.
The opposite of regret is not the lack of regret. Peace is the opposite of regret.
It is as light as a feather.
George is a freelance writer and author of the inspirational novel Long Shot - Somewhere Between Slim and None. He writes about motivation, inspiration, men's issues and health and fitness. http://www.squidoo.com/Long-Shot-eBook
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