One the things I like about blogging (and reading other people's blogs) is that blogging celebrates the mundane. (though not as mundane as twitter or facebook. Ya gotta draw the line somewhere!) Sometimes you come across a serious or poignant or life shattering post. But for the most part, we talk about our day, the weather, our pets, our weekend plans, the outfits we wore to an important event. It's oddly comforting to me.
Take my "Tuesday's Bad Dates" idea...I try to put a funny twist on my pointless stories, but really -- they are just fluff. Sadly, the fluff is true, which is a terrible reflection upon my life. But overall, the fluff does not affect my life to any great degree.
This week, I came into contact with the absolute worst dating-related scenario I can imagine. It is the opposite of fluff.
This week, I met a boy who is 18. He was in a car accident 6 weeks ago. He has some cuts and scrapes along his arms and face. He broke his leg in two places and suffered a minor concussion. His girlfriend died.
Can you imagine being 18 years old and having your girlfriend or boyfriend die? I cannot fathom that. At age 18, my entire world revolved around my boyfriend, B. The sun rose and set upon the mere idea of him. He was my first real boyfriend, my first love. We spent every moment together that we could. It took me 5 years to come to the conclusion that even though I loved him, we were not good together. If he had...DIED...I don't know how I would have coped. I think I would be a very different person today.
Losing your significant other would be devastating at any age, of course. But at least NOW, I understand on an intellectual level that things like that occur. At 18, nobody knows that. At 18, things like that happen to other people. At 18, you are young and invincible. You are beautiful and skinny and have great hair without even trying. Nothing bad happens to you when you are 18. Unless it does. And then -- everything about being 18 is wiped out in an instant.
My heart goes out for this poor guy. His very first real girlfriend is gone. His young, confident, untouchable 18-ness is gone. And for him, time is not flying by like for us bloggers who remark "Where did September go?" or "What a short summer!" Every moment drags by and is a constant reminder of that one horrible day in August.
Oh, imagine remembering the-summer-you-were-18 and remembering THAT. Oh, that poor, poor kid.
My hope for him is to come out the other side to a place where he can be concerned with fluff.