Not long ago, I was staring at my computer, feeling perplexed. No, that's not the right word. Curious. Hesitant. Dry-mouthed with fear? A bit of each, really.
I had just tracked down three old friends from 20 years ago on Facebook, a social networking website. Despite my advanced years – I’m defiantly 42 – I signed up. For a while I wondered what the hell I was doing, paddling in the kiddie pool. Then I found them.
Dave, Steve and Brendan were old university friends; buddies I'd lost track of, then wondered about for years. No, that's not right, either. In truth, they were close friends I adored but never actually hooked up with. Most women have The One that Got Away. Me? I’ve got a shopping list of attractive and interesting men about whom I'd always wondered, What would have happened if I hadn't zigged when they zagged?
About to reconnect
Back to Dave, Steve and Brendan. We lost touch when I moved to Australia to marry my One True Love. For 20 years, they lived in stasis: eternally young, virile and unattainable. Then came Facebook. And, suddenly, there they were. And there I was, about to send them all an e-mail.
For a few minutes, I wondered about disturbing those idyllic memories of youth. Would that "what if" question be better left unanswered? What the hell; life's too short. I hit "send."
Dave was the first to respond. Twenty years ago, he was extraordinarily tall, intelligent and talented behind a camera. Now he's a network news cameraman who's witnessed firsthand the major catastrophes of the Middle East. Steve came next. He had also wondered where life had taken me. I wasn't surprised to learn he's now a gifted writer. Like me, Brendan was once a skinny punk rocker with a smart mouth and black Doc Martens boots. Today he's a technical architect.
Who we were
Our reunions were sweet, joyful and for the most part, it felt like no time had lapsed. Sure, our lives are very different from what they were, but old memories and friendship aside, we also discovered we had something new in common.
Refracted through the lens of 20 years, we marvelled at how our carefree younger selves had turned out. We each had funny, warm recollections of those early days when we knew so little, but were so damn sure about everything. I don't feel old enough to feel young again, but these dear men helped me recall the buoyant self I'd slowly relinquished to the burdens of career, motherhood and responsibility.
I discovered I liked that girl. I liked her a lot. She was wild, impetuous, full of vinegar, but she also ate up life and loved wholeheartedly on short notice. I felt her exuberance again.
Who we are
Over beer recently, Brendan and I discussed how we felt about looking back. "It's like being kicked in the butt by our former selves a bit, this getting out from under all those things that time and tide have piled on," he observed.
Then he paused. "Do you think your wild young self would like who you are now?" I looked down at my perfectly pedicured feet. I thought about how these men had helped reconnect me with that young woman and how, after all these years, she has reinvigorated my life. I looked up at his inquiring face. "Maybe not," I laughed. "But I would have grown on her."
Read more:
• 10 things you didn't know about Facebook
• 9 tips for looking better in photos
• Should couples live together before marriage?
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Julie Beun-Chown is a writer and mother of two who now prefers stilettos to Doc Martens.
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