Letter to a Teen-Aged me

All the girls are doing it, so I thought I’d try it, too. 

Not a whole lot to say to younger me. I respect my past self. Any pitfalls I might warn her about were not matters where I would have heeded anyone else’s advice. So, I’ll keep it short:

Dear 17-Year Old Me,

Don’t be so impatient. You get True Love. Do you think that happens every day?

Love,

Older Me

Share

24 thoughts on “Letter to a Teen-Aged me

  1. Interesting how we remember ourselves. I addressed Ms. Practicality who probably would have wanted to shoot me for not revealing the name of my true love.
    However as I knew 2 boys (childhood crush and college guy who wanted to marry high school me) with the same first name as my husband, that would have been a lousy hint.

    I did give myself a hint, though…

    • Yes! I noticed the library reference. Something kind of neat about you meeting on the steps of the library and then becoming a librarian.

      I had an intuition that I was going to marry John back in college. I looked over at him with his muskrat on his chin (his description of his beard at the time) and went “Yuck!” I used to have nightmares that I’d have to marry him…

      Of course, when it actually happened, I could not have been happier.

      What I really would have liked to tell myself was “Don’t have sex until you’re married.” But I would not have listened. I thought I knew what the right standard was. ;-)

      • Yeah, I was afraid if I left it with “talk to the loners” I might have taken that to be the hint. Trust me, Steve ain’t a loner. A natural Youth Leader, that’s what he is. In fact, he’s over at the church right now giving his Youth Leader report.

        Only problem was lots of other girls found him to be charming interesting, too. I was going to drop the whole thing in a fit of proud annoyance, but he pursued me …
        and was a good friend even before we started dating.
        He was the person I called when my grandmother died unexpectedly when we were visiting her. What a weird thing to do, but he said some nice things. I forget exactly what and I think he found it touching that I thought of him.

  2. Interesting how we remember ourselves. I addressed Ms. Practicality who probably would have wanted to shoot me for not revealing the name of my true love.
    However as I knew 2 boys (childhood crush and college guy who wanted to marry high school me) with the same first name as my husband, that would have been a lousy hint.

    I did give myself a hint, though…

  3. Yes! I noticed the library reference. Something kind of neat about you meeting on the steps of the library and then becoming a librarian.

    I had an intuition that I was going to marry John back in college. I looked over at him with his muskrat on his chin (his description of his beard at the time) and went “Yuck!” I used to have nightmares that I’d have to marry him…

    Of course, when it actually happened, I could not have been happier.

    What I really would have liked to tell myself was “Don’t have sex until you’re married.” But I would not have listened. I thought I knew what the right standard was. ;-)

  4. For Buttercup~!

    Awwwwwwwwww~!

    As is my wont on public spaces (and a good many private) I was being, ah, stealthy. “The truth, the whole truth and quite a bit less than complete honesty” Better a good story (and a laugh) than all the dreary messy bits.

    Besides, space-time continuum and all that (and would you really want to risk pulling the thread that unravels everything Now? Petty gain!)

    • Re: For Buttercup~!

      >As is my wont on public spaces (and a good many private) I was being, ah, stealthy. “The truth, the whole truth and quite a bit less than complete honesty” Better a good story (and a laugh) than all the dreary messy bits.

      I did not include the “How would you know it was you?” part for a similar reason…I can think of dozens of ways of proving it was me…but if I told anyone, they wouldn’t work anymore, would they? ;_)

      Besides, looking at your life with humor is definitely a plus!

  5. Yeah, I was afraid if I left it with “talk to the loners” I might have taken that to be the hint. Trust me, Steve ain’t a loner. A natural Youth Leader, that’s what he is. In fact, he’s over at the church right now giving his Youth Leader report.

    Only problem was lots of other girls found him to be charming interesting, too. I was going to drop the whole thing in a fit of proud annoyance, but he pursued me …
    and was a good friend even before we started dating.
    He was the person I called when my grandmother died unexpectedly when we were visiting her. What a weird thing to do, but he said some nice things. I forget exactly what and I think he found it touching that I thought of him.

  6. For Buttercup~!

    Awwwwwwwwww~!

    As is my wont on public spaces (and a good many private) I was being, ah, stealthy. “The truth, the whole truth and quite a bit less than complete honesty” Better a good story (and a laugh) than all the dreary messy bits.

    Besides, space-time continuum and all that (and would you really want to risk pulling the thread that unravels everything Now? Petty gain!)

  7. I had John laughing last night when I went down, told him about this exercise and how Carbonelle, Juliet, and the Cheese Elf had all done it and declared, “It’s almost like having girlfriends!”

    (By which I mean the kind that you sit and tell secrets to during sleepovers…not a thing normally available to Mom’s.)

    • True enough! I’m lucky I have a good friend in town (say hi when you get on, Druinor) and get to see you as well once a month or so. But that’s with kids in tow. Always with kids in tow.
      Except on Fridays, pre-game, when Druinor and I hit a coffee shop to chat in a child-free zone while husband tidies the house and makes dinner.

  8. but when you’re 17….

    You think true love with all the trimmings has to happen now. Right now. Perfectly with roses and waltzes…
    What you are more likely to get are daffodils and moonlit walks.

  9. Re: For Buttercup~!

    >As is my wont on public spaces (and a good many private) I was being, ah, stealthy. “The truth, the whole truth and quite a bit less than complete honesty” Better a good story (and a laugh) than all the dreary messy bits.

    I did not include the “How would you know it was you?” part for a similar reason…I can think of dozens of ways of proving it was me…but if I told anyone, they wouldn’t work anymore, would they? ;_)

    Besides, looking at your life with humor is definitely a plus!

  10. I had John laughing last night when I went down, told him about this exercise and how Carbonelle, Juliet, and the Cheese Elf had all done it and declared, “It’s almost like having girlfriends!”

    (By which I mean the kind that you sit and tell secrets to during sleepovers…not a thing normally available to Mom’s.)

  11. but when you’re 17….

    You think true love with all the trimmings has to happen now. Right now. Perfectly with roses and waltzes…
    What you are more likely to get are daffodils and moonlit walks.

  12. True enough! I’m lucky I have a good friend in town (say hi when you get on, Druinor) and get to see you as well once a month or so. But that’s with kids in tow. Always with kids in tow.
    Except on Fridays, pre-game, when Druinor and I hit a coffee shop to chat in a child-free zone while husband tidies the house and makes dinner.

  13. I think all I would have had to have said was “you’ll regret it if you do x,y, and z”, and I’d never have done it. IF, of course, I could really prove to the satisfaction of my 17-year old self that it was me writing.

    I read once, in a detective novel of all places, a character (a battered wife) who thought that you can regret all sorts of things in your life, but once you have children you can’t regret the decisions you made before that anymore, because without those decisions your life would not have led to those children. I tend to sympathise with that sentiment a lot.

  14. I think all I would have had to have said was “you’ll regret it if you do x,y, and z”, and I’d never have done it. IF, of course, I could really prove to the satisfaction of my 17-year old self that it was me writing.

    I read once, in a detective novel of all places, a character (a battered wife) who thought that you can regret all sorts of things in your life, but once you have children you can’t regret the decisions you made before that anymore, because without those decisions your life would not have led to those children. I tend to sympathise with that sentiment a lot.

Comments are closed.