QotD: Makes Me Wonder...

Which person from your past, who you've lost touch with, do you wonder about the most? 
Submitted by ancora impara.

Hmm.  It's hard to choose between two. 

The first one was my best friend in my first high school (I went to two different high schools--we moved the summer between my junior and senior years).  Her name, and I'm going to go ahead and put it on here because every other long-lost friend (and even the very first guy I kissed) seems to find me via this Vox, was Patricia Cano.  She and I were soulmates.  No, seriously.

I don't remember exactly when she moved to the little hicktown where I was living, but it was some time after me, and she was therefore more "new girl" than I was.  Her family was Seventh-Day Adventist, which meant (among other things) that they observed the Saturday Sabbath, which meant Patricia couldn't be on the basketball team or nearly any other extracurricular, and extracurriculars were really the only way to have fun in that town.  Patricia was, I suppose, a pretty devout Adventist.  She would go to parties but not drink, and she would also manage to refrain from judging those of us who did.  She would tell you about her faith but not try to force it on you, and she managed to refrain from judging people of other religions and people with no religion at all. 

From the first time we met, we just clicked in that super-awesome way that friends sometimes do.  Within a week, we could finish each other's sentences and make the exact same gesture at the exact same moment, and then we would laugh while no one else had any idea what was going on.  She had a similar obscure, ironic sense of humor as I did.  She liked the same kinds of books.  And she dated BEN!  You bitch!  No, just kidding, but Ben was so hot, especially when he would get pissed off at Mrs. Macdonald and throw that tennis ball around the newspaper room.  Or in the time in welding when the slag went down his shirt!  Fun times!

Anyway, the point is, I felt more like a sister to her than anyone I've ever known, and we've lost touch.  Oh, Patricia, how I would welcome an email from you!

The other one I am extremely curious about is a fellow whose name I think I ought not mention, although it is a common enough name I suppose.  Let's call him Brandon.

Brandon and I were on the speech and debate team (he was speech--a rather rousing orator, he was--while I was debate) at my second high school.  Brandon was immensely popular and incredibly gorgeous, and I have no idea why he ever started talking to me, as I was neither of those things, but one day on the way to a tournament, he sat next to me on the bus.  It turned out he wasn't just popular and unspeakably hotttt, he was also very, very funny.  We became friends, although our social circles were quite different outside of the speech team. 

Fast forward.  I'm going to college in West Texas (the marvelous Hill Country!  Texas, I hate you!), while Brandon is going to Pepperdine in Malibu.  He's in a frat, of course.  He's getting work as a model and occasional male stripper.  He's banging, like, every blonde chick in California, and I gather there are a lot of blonde chicks in Cali.  He drives some sort of small red sports car.  He works in a restaurant where even the busboys wear ties and the Red Hot Chili Peppers come in to eat.  That sort of thing.

Also, it takes him like an hour to do his hair.  God.

Alright, so he decides to come visit me--I think his school year ended earlier than mine or something, so he was on vacation.  He shows up at my door looking insanely gorgeous, but even more so for the slick sheen of California all over him.  My roommate, who is another story entirely and I'll have to tell you about her someday, instantly takes to traipsing about in her skivvies, and he is repulsed.  He sleeps in my bed, with me, completely asexually, and we're both cool with that, because judging from the tickle fights and the sharing of hair-care products, we are much too good at being friends to ruin it with sex.

Brandon has such a good time with me for a couple of days that he ends up staying a week or so.  I take him to my favorite gay club--indeed, my favorite dance floor in the entire world--The Bonham Exchange.  It is a place of legend, at least in my mind.  The Bonham was a really pretty gay club at that point.  I liked it for three reasons:  The music was always good, I didn't get hassled that much by guys because, uh, they were all gay (no, there were bisexuals, but they seemed so much less aggressive and assholish than straight guys), and also the bartenders were all hot and mostly straight and would flirt outrageously with me and give me free drinks because I was the only chick in the house.  Anyway.

So, I take Brandon there.  While we're dancing and mingling, I introduce Brandon to Alan.  Alan was a really good-looking and funny guy, but, you know, gay and all.  I was pretty sure Brandon was really straight.  Ummm, so then Brandon fell in love with Alan.  Oh, my.

I guess he didn't realize it that night, so we had to spend the entire rest of the week trying to track Alan down.  Now, I only knew these guys by their first names, and we only saw each other at The Bonham, so tracking them down was complicated.  The one guy that I knew where he lived, oh, well, he lived on base.  Mmm, Air Force I think, or was it Army?  I can't remember.  So, one night, Brandon and I get the awesome, genius idea to SNEAK onto a military base and find this guy.  Yes, that's what we did.  In the middle of the night, we steal across the open expanses of grass, expanses of grass that just screamed, "shoot me, as I am a communist saboteur," to the barracks.  We find this guy, and he's all, "Alan?  Alan who?  Is he hot?"  D'oh.  But this guy can give us Luis's phone number, and maybe Luis knows Alan, because Luis knows everyone.  As we're waiting for the military police to come arrest us, he sleepily (and in his underpants, which inexplicably had rainbows on them--isn't there some kind of "don't ask, don't tell" policy?  wtf?) calls Luis who also does the "Alan who?" thing before recalling that Alan is in Dallas for the week.

Too bad.  Brandon never saw Alan again to my knowledge, as he couldn't stay long enough.  Alan offered to pay for Brandon's plane ticket back to see him, but I don't think it ever happened.  Brandon felt confused and all that for a while, and then I got a letter from him saying that he thinks maybe he's gay.  He says he has a boyfriend, although he still fucks girls sometimes, but he thinks maybe that's just for show, but then again, he doesn't really enjoy the gay sex, and ...

Oh, hell.  Of course I want to hear from him again.  For one thing, I could use some hairstyling tips, as mine is a bit limp lately.  For another thing, "gay or not?" is totally a question that I want an answer to.  It doesn't really matter I guess, except that I feel like I had some part in introducing him to the rainbows and unicorns. 

Other people I'd love to hear from:

Stacy Barnier

Brandon Fryar (different Brandon)

Sean Summers

Clark Chatlain and Megan...damn, why can't I remember Megan's last name?  Clark and Megan.  Megan...Megan Awesome.

Colin Hester

David Breeden

Courtney Wilder

Terri Heynekamp