Jean

Girls can make each other feel great…or like crap.  

A day trip last week to Ocean City with my 28-year-old daughter Amy was filled with conversation about a variety of things, including the power that girls – and women – possess that can dramatically impact one other.

We found ourselves exchanging stories about when we’ve been dumped without there being a known cause to warrant that, and how bad it felt at the time.  

Our stories were similar, but hers involved a couple groups of girls who collectively turned their backs on her while my experiences focused on individuals who did that, with one super memorable situation occurring when I was in junior high, about 50 years ago.

I met Jean as I started 7^th grade – our first year in the school – when we were assigned seats near each other in homeroom because my last name started with C and her name with a D. I was so happy to make that early connection in large part because I didn't know many others at the school, other than for my lifelong friend Bonnie who got involved with chorus early on and my other new (and now old) friend Marilyn, who sat in front of me in English class.  

Jean and I hung out a lot that year and, because she lived nearby, we went to her house quite often after school. We also talked on the phone at night and on weekends and shared lots of secrets about the boys we had crushes on, dissecting every word they ever said to us.

On the first day of 8^th grade, as I was sitting at my desk eager for Jean to arrive so we could resume where we left off a couple of months before – we hadn’t seen each other much since school let out in June – there was a sudden stillness in the room: a very LOUD silence, as she entered.

W O A…she was NOT the Jean I knew! This NEW Jean had a super stylish feathered haircut, she was wearing make-up, she shed her glasses, her braces came off and she had a whole new and fashionable – as in tight – wardrobe that accentuated her fabulous figure. While I may have seen bits and pieces of the transformation that occurred during the summer, I did not witness the full picture until that moment.      

I also realized she appeared to have the attitude that went along with it all which, sadly, simultaneously signaled the end of our friendship. Jean had become “cool” and chose to spend her time with others like herself who were known as the popular kids.

In retrospect, I wonder if she stopped talking to me and that explained why we weren’t friends anymore or if I felt too intimidated by her new persona that I stopped wanting to be with her. I think it was the former that occurred, because I can recall feeling rejected…but emotions are complicated, especially to make sense of them when we didn’t have the self-awareness to dig deep into our feelings. We were, after all, in our early teens, when everything was in a muddied state; most of all, our hormones and sense of self.

Every now and then I wonder if what I think happened is what she thinks happened…if she ever gave us any thought at all.

Strangely enough, Jean’s childhood home is on the same city block as my dentist, so I find myself reflecting on this friendship every time I get my teeth cleaned. I always look at her house as I pass by, wondering if I will see her walking around – and what if anything I’d say if I did.   

Lately I’ve been extra curious about Jean, so I decided to check her out on Facebook. After some digging for her last name, I was able to locate her on social media. She actually looked similar to how she did in 8^th grade, although there was no entry newer than 2017. I googled her again and found a phone number, but I haven’t called it.

Some people believe that once something is “over,” it should remain in the past. I’m often ok with opening the door a second time, but given we were friends for just 1 of my 61+ years, I’m not sure this idea makes any sense.

It is bizarre to think that while I’ve given her a good amount of thought for a half century, she might not even remember me.