Holly (formanymiles) wrote,
Holly
formanymiles

A dream about my first wife.

I really only miss smoking when it rains, and the entire county has been in a black cloud for two days.

LinkedIn is one of those weird media sites that feels pointless to me, and yet I have one, because I am an adult professional and sometimes you have to do things that feel pointless. I started out using it solely as a networking site within my small community, but as more of my college friends joined, I "connected" with them as well. Not Emma, though. It felt weird--after our final falling out senior year, I removed her from my LiveJournal friends list, and she removed me from Facebook. But when the Boston Marathon bombings happened, I seriously freaked out. She lives there, and her dad's a runner. So I emailed one of our mutual friends, and when she didn't respond quickly enough, I added Emma on LinkedIn and sent her a message. She replied, and that was it until yesterday.

I don't log in to LinkedIn very frequently, but Heather's out of town this week and all I'm really doing is printing for our newsletter, so I have some time to kill while the printer runs. The "Who's Been Looking At Your Profile" feature let me know that, sometime on Sunday, Emma looked at my profile. I decided I wanted to say hello, and spent approximately 24 hours stressing over what, exactly, to say. I was such a jerk to her. I wound up sending her a LinkedIn message that said, "I hope this is okay; you've been on my mind a lot lately. [After my dad, she was the first person I thought of when Leonard Nimoy passed away.] If you'd like to catch up, my email is still [x]. If not, I totally understand. Either way, hope you're doing well."

Maybe I'm exaggerating my own importance, but if I were her, I wouldn't write me back. But I hope she does. She was my best friend and the only person I've ever been in love with.

One of the few things I remember from our commencement address was the president of the college, in summing up, said, "Some of you met your life's partner here." And I remember thinking, sunburned, irritable, and mildly drunk, "Yeah, I did. Sure screwed that one up."
Tags: just talking
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