Nostalgia’s Creek

Published January 22, 2017 by dividinguplife

I haven’t watched Dawnson’s Creek since its premiere when I was barely a teenager. I saw it flash up as a suggestion on my Fullscreen app, and thought, ‘why not?’ … and so when I’m getting ready in the morning, I place my phone on the bathroom counter and watch it while I’m putting on my makeup. When I’m clipping coupons and my husband is watching some ridiculous boy movie, I will put on my headphones and watch it on the computer. It has such a nostalgic effect on me. It throws me back to my teenage years. Not just because I was 13 when it came it, but because I had such a similar love triangle as that of Dawson, Pacey, and Joey. Unbeknownst to me, I didn’t link the similarities until I started watching the show again. 

The summer of ’98 I would climb out of my window and haul ass across the back yards of neighbors to make it to my (now) husbands house, and crawl through his brothers window and throw myself onto his bed and watch him while he played Doom. Sometimes we’d climb out of his window and run with wild abandon through our large neighborhood. One night he brought a blanket and we lay out under the stars on an empty lot, and made out for what seemed like hours. My brother-in-law was my first love, my first kiss, and my first life experience with heartbreak. That boy shattered my heart into a thousand pieces. I cried over him for six years, and just when I thought I was getting over him, he reappeared in my life when I was nineteen, at which point I finally slept with him (we were both very, very drunk), and then he and his family were gone again. No goodbye (much like the first time), and I was left picking up my heart all over again. 


Me and the Brother-in-law – 1998


Me on the right, brother-in-law in the middle, neighborhood friend on the left


Me and My Aunt, 1999 


Me – 1999 as the brooding teenager

When we were teenagers, and we had life by the balls, it was some of the best times of my life. There was another boy in our neighborhood named Anthony, that chased after me while I was chasing after my brother-in-law (yes, it’s very weird to refer to him as that, but that’s what he is to me now.) I could never get my head out of my BIL’s ass long enough to really see Anthony as anything other than an annoyance. There were moments when I was pissed at my BIL for giving his attention and affection to other girls, and so I’d run over to Anthony’s and eventually that lead to us making out in his room and quasi dating (whatever the hell that meant at 13 years old), and then we all moved out of that neighborhood one at a time, and that was the end of that. When I was 23 or so, I reconnected with Anthony, ended up sleeping with him, and then he wouldn’t talk to me anymore except to say “I’m sorry, I’m not a good person.” That was the end of that. I haven’t heard from him since. 

Tonight I was talking to my husband and it dawned on me that this September it will be twenty years that I’ve known his family. Twenty damn years. Looking back, it seems as recent as last week that we were all children with our entire lives stretched out before us. Twenty years went by so quickly. This year, my daughter will be the same age that I was when I started climbing out of my window. Thank god she’s on the second story. 

Watching this show in my 30’s makes me ache so badly for my childhood again. No matter how shitty it was with my mother, there were so many good aspects of it that I’d love to relive over again. I miss that feeling of young love, and the excitement, and the butterflies. Granted, I wouldn’t trade anything in the world for the life that I have right now, with the husband that I have (that asshole older brother that hardly paid any attention to me). But it was such an amazing freedom to have. To crawl back through my window and four in the morning and lie down with a smile on my face and daydreams of what my future might be like. 

I mean, I always knew I would take this families last name, but God sure did throw me a curve ball on that one. Twenty years ago, if someone would have told me I was going to marry the older brother, I would have laughed and then ran into my husbands room and junk punched him and ran away back to my house. 


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