visited the getty yesterday, with my roommate kathryn. it was a lovely day seeing the works of bill viola, rembrandt, goya and dorthea lange.

most impactful moment of the day, however, happened while peering at the rembrandts with my little headphones listening to the audio tour from a wheelchair — a lifesaver at a museum for 9 hours. looking over to my right i noticed a woman with her boy, no older than 2 pointing out an oil landscape. i watched the boy for a moment, noticing he was far more interested in the people milling around than the old paintings on the wall — of course *he* didn’t have the headphones. then his mother called out “matt…” at a man in a blue shirt.

he turns — it’s my boyfriend from high school. a little bigger, wider and hairier, but definitely him. my first love. first just about everything. this was the boy who loved me in a way that only first loves can, and i’ve been looking for a love just like that ever since.

i wasn’t as good to him as he was to me, but i was 17. besides, i never was the sharpest tool in the shed when it came to love and trust me this was far more pronounced at 17.

as he walked by, i held out my hand and said “you’re matt winn aren’t you?”, he didn’t recognize me right away…but it had been 12 years, 10 lbs, a suntan and very big hair since i’d seen him last. then he muttered ‘oh my god. wow. this is amazing. you’re so thin.’

not the words i’d imagined, but i was shaking and could barely stand to give him a hug nonetheless. which was strange, i didn’t think that seeing matt after 12 years would affect me so much. i mean he’s standing there with his wife and son and best friend and i’m shaking, a little weak and can’t seem to get an intelligent word out about anything.

we chat about nonsense, yes i got married, didn’t stick though, oh so sorry, yes a car accident, wow i had one too in oct, my son payton, oh sister’s having her first, i’m in venice, oh we’re 2 minutes away, how strange, no didn’t make the reunion, drove by your old house, yadayada.

then we kinda looked at each other stunned, uncomfortable. his wife tells me that’s she’s heard so much about me which doesn’t sound like a good thing. and then we kind of mutter something about how nice it was see, meet, run into each other and then walk off in opposite directions.

that was it. strange that should be it, but i guess that’s life.

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