I’m ready. I’m cookies.

I’m going to let you in on something I’m not at all proud of.

In college, I was a huge dick.

I’m not even exaggerating. I had my moments of NOT being a dick, but overall? Huge, huge dick. I thought I knew everything, and I was drinking, like, constantly, and when I wasn’t drinking I was crying or throwing shit around or overreacting about something and being a total theater queen or going on and on and ON about something and the sheer fact that people that knew me back then still want to talk to me kind of amazes me, to be honest.

Yup. Me. Pretty much.

Yup. Me. Pretty much.

Now, I know. College-age is a shitty time for a lot of people. We’re just babies when we’re that age. I look at kids that age now and I seriously think, “OMG, you are just a BABY” and usually I forgive them a lot of things because that’s a really tough age. You’re away from home for the first extended period of time in your life, and you’re experiencing a million billion things for the first time, and you have all this crazy-ass heady FREEDOM, and some people handle that better than others.

And some people come from a very, VERY small town, where their graduating class was 60 people (the same 60 people, give or take, that they started kindergarten with 13 years earlier) and their parents didn’t give them a curfew because why give someone a curfew if they’re not allowed to go out at all anyway? Curfew was whenever I got home from school, and it ended whenever I LEFT for school the next MORNING. And then they got to college, and there WAS no curfew, and there were all these PEOPLE, some of them MAN-PEOPLE, and there was ALCOHOL (even though a person was seventeen) and some of us may well have gone a little crazy. For quite some time. Years longer than was necessary, actually. As if it was ever necessary.

I think of Buffy a lot when I think of myself at that age. (I look to Buffy for a lot of life lessons, actually. Don’t we all? If we don’t, shouldn’t we?) I think of Buffy telling Angel, “I’m cookie dough. I’m not done baking. I’m not finished becoming whoever the hell it is I’m gonna turn out to be. I make it through this, and the next thing, and the next thing, and maybe one day I turn around and realize I’m ready. I’m cookies.”

I think a lot of us in college were cookie dough. Gooey, poorly-behaved, self-absorbed cookie dough. Waiting to become whoever to hell it is we’re going to turn out to be.

It just takes some of us a little longer to bake, is all.

In college, I had a friend named Josh. Josh and I met in my sophomore year and his freshman year. I believe we met in a playwriting class, or were perhaps introduced by David, who knew everyone who was anyone. It’s been a long time. And I was gooey cookie dough, remember.

We had a lot in common. We were theater people. We were readers, which was perhaps even more important; our mutual Stephen King obsession was HOURS of conversation. We were both writers. We both enjoyed movies, and picking them apart into little teeny tiny pieces afterward. He introduced me to Kevin Smith films, which I will never be able to thank him enough for.

Problem is? Cookie dough.

I don’t think I appreciated him enough. Because I was a dick. Because I was so mired in my own shit and my own broken brain that I found it very hard to pull myself out long enough to give even a moment’s thought to anyone else, or what they might have been going through. I think I put on a good enough front; I don’t think people walked away from me thinking I was a sociopath – at least most of the time. I’m sure some people did. Those people were probably the smart ones. (Smart ones: I’m better now. I promise. I spend most of my days thinking of others now. I most sincerely guarantee you this.)

Not long after I graduated, Josh and I got in a fight. Well, no. That’s kind of strangely overstating what happened. I’m not going into detail; it’s no one’s business but the two of us (and the third person involved, I suppose, even if he was involved tangentially.) I got angry at him for something that, in retrospect, was very small. Words were exchanged. I remember very well the last exchange I had with him, which was on our terrible inter-collegiate email: I told him I would neither forgive or forget what had happened, and I would never, ever speak to him again.

I am quite old-world in my vendettas. If someone is dead to me: they are dead to me. There’s no gray area, here. I erased him from my life. I erased three years of friendship; I erased three years of spending time together almost every day, of longhand letters back and forth in the summers, of constant conversation and sharing of ideas and writing and our lives. I took a big old Pink Pearl eraser and I got rid of all of that. Because I was angry. Because I felt betrayed. Because, as stated? I was 21, I thought I was always right, and I was a dick.

And seventeen years have passed. And we didn’t speak. For seventeen years. Because DEAD TO ME.

We had mutual friends; I knew he was teaching, and writing, and that was about it. I didn’t want to know anything else. No interest. I would have made a very good Italian widow, forking the evil eye and spitting when my enemies passed my doorstep.

And then, through a twist of very, very weird fate, we ended up with a mutual friend on Facebook (who was not a mutual college friend, but a mutual friend we didn’t know each other knew.) And Josh reached out to me.

This panicked the shit out of me.

Didn’t he know he was dead to me? What the hell with this? I waffled back and forth on what the hell I was supposed to do, here. Ignore him? Delete the friend request? Send him a message telling him thanks but no thanks and THEN delete the friend request?

Then I thought, Amy. Amy, it’s been 17 years. You need to be an adult about this.

Also, I don’t know if you’re aware, but carrying a grudge? It’s a very heavy weight. And you carry that alone. No one helps you carry a grudge. No one can. It one of those loads you HAVE to carry alone.

I accepted the friend request. I sent him a message that was probably ruder, in retrospect, than it should have been, telling him I was ready to forgive, and move on. I was bristly, though. I don’t trust easily, once trust has been broken. This comes from years of practice with broken trust. I’m a wary little wombat.

We’d been tentatively in contact for a while when he said he was coming to town for a conference, and did I want to have dinner?

Yeah, you think being friends with the guy online scared me? Invite me out to meet in person. You know I have social anxiety. Rachet that up with this kind of baggage, and I was MANIC.

But I thought it out. Like a grownup. Like a fully-baked cookie. And I thought of that heavy-ass seventeen-year-old grudge riding my back like a jockey who didn’t make weight, whipping me when I wasn’t going fast enough and muttering hateful words in my ear.

Yes, I said. Yes, I will meet you for dinner. Yes. Let’s do this.

Then I panicked quietly (and sometimes not-so-quietly, sorry, people I panicked to) for days about this, because, well, it’s what I do.

We met for dinner after work the other night at his hotel. I put on my brave face. I can do this, I thought; I can do this. This is dinner. We eat, we don’t talk about touchy subjects, I am light, I am breezy, I am Monica leaving a message for Richard, I CAN DO THIS SHIT.

And there was Josh. And Josh looked the same, only like a grownup now. Seventeen years will do that to a person. (Seventeen years – a seventeen-year-old is only a year younger than I was when I MET him. That length of time – a bit mind-boggling, really.)

I’m not going to go into detail. We didn’t have a grand adventure; we didn’t take a billion photos. (Or even one, actually. I know. I’m terrible about photos.) We spent the evening reconnecting. We spent the evening drawing back what I’d erased, all those years ago, when I was 21 and I knew everything and was, as mentioned, kind of totally a dick.

There were waffles and a waiter who was possibly with the mob and coffee beverages and terrible music and the sharing of war stories and eclairs that were sexworthy and talk of books and movies and shared stories of the meeting and geeking out over famous people and laughter over possibly inappropriate things.

And guess what, you guys?

It was awesome.

It was awesome because we are the same people who connected all those years ago, but also better.

Because we’re ready, you guys.

Josh and I? We’re cookies.

And as we said our goodbye, much later than I’d planned because I’d had the whole evening mapped out in my head and I was SURE it would be awful and we’d have nothing to say to one another because I (shock! awe!) freak out sometimes, and gave each other a super-fierce hug, I felt this weird thing.

A seventeen-year-old grudge disappearing, that weight being gone, is a nice feeling. A light one.

A better feeling?

Forgiving your dicky younger self for, well, some of the dickishness? An even lighter one.

The best feeling?

Having an old friend back in my life.

The lightest feeling of all.

(Thanks, Josh, for not giving up when you most definitely could – and maybe should – have. Thank you for understanding I needed to keep baking, and for being patient enough, and kind enough, to wait. You’ve baked into a most fantastic cookie, my friend.)

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About lucysfootball

I'm not the girl with the most cake. Someday. SOMEDAY. View all posts by lucysfootball

200 responses to “I’m ready. I’m cookies.

  • becomingcliche

    I wasn’t a person I was proud of in college, either. A lot like you, but add a giant dose of self-righteous. I was insufferable. I am also grateful to the people who overlooked who I was because they saw who I could become.

    Here’s to maturity. And to friendship.

    Like

    • lucysfootball

      We met each other at just the right time, then. I’m glad we didn’t meet each other then. We’d have destroyed one another.

      Aren’t the people that saw past the terrible-children-us amazing? How were they even able to do this? I’m amazed by this.

      Like

  • Andreas Heinakroon

    *mental note* Don’t piss Amy off. Even a little.

    Like

    • lucysfootball

      You won’t. I can’t imagine a scenario when you ever would. Not even a little bit. (Also, you met me at a good time in my life; I was fully-baked by then. You met the Amy you DESERVED to meet.)

      Like

  • longviewhill

    Loved this. The baking – it takes a long time, years even. I’m just now thinking that I’ve started to hit that perfect Ginger Snap goodness of being firm in the right places and soft in the others.

    Like

  • emuse

    I’m having a weirdly opposite experience. I don’t really know what to do with it. But I’m glad this went well for you.

    Like

    • lucysfootball

      I’m sorry to hear that. I honestly didn’t think this would turn out well – I’m very seldom optimistic about such things – and was so pleasantly surprised when it did. Sending you good thoughts that things will turn around soon. You deserve that. So much.

      Like

  • goalinreach

    I love “Buffy-isms” I am a Buffy lover and yes I think all of life’s big scary questions can all be answered by that tv show (and Angel)

    Like

  • sj

    Oh, this made me cry a little.

    Like

  • VOID RPG Admin

    Don’t know that I have had an experience like this, but glad it is going well for you.

    Like

  • Charleen

    I’m still cookie dough. I think my oven’s broken.

    Like

  • nealcall

    I don’t have the same sort of baggage to look back on . . . rather than weighty grudges, my earlier friendships are mostly just a sort of barely-noticed fading away, a vague wistfulness that teases me every once in a while. But even so, I really appreciated this. Ever since I understood that Clint Eastwood’s work as a director hinges on REDEMPTION, it’s a concept that has shaped the way I view the world, and gunfights. This is a good story to live through to its conclusion, and a good story to tell the world. And nicely expressed, too.

    A corollary, I suppose, might be what to do in a situation where you both start out as just ingredients; one of you is sugar, and the other is flour, and there are SO MANY WAYS you could join together to make amazing food! But then you grow up, and you’ve made other combinations, and the one who was just sugar becomes a tart lemon drop, and the one who was flour becomes a garlicky breadstick . . . and you’re just too different to really fit together anymore. Maybe this outcome is most common for people who refuse to be charitable to each other, when they’re not ready for the first, more cathartic way. I’m gonna think on this.

    Like

    • lucysfootball

      DUDE. This is your first comment over here? And you start out with THIS? This is a KICKASS comment. You come back here more often, mister. I demand it.

      I have a lot of those drifting-away friendships, too. Some of them it was inevitable; some of them, I miss those people, have tried to find them over the years, tried to reconnect, but it was just too late, or we never had a strong enough connection to begin with to regain anything, I guess.

      I do like the idea of redemption. I like it in movies and books; I like it even more in life.

      Like

      • nealcall

        I think I actually commented once before, way back when you were freshly pressed. But I’m glad I stopped by on this one, too; it’s the kind of serious effort to make things better that makes something inside me smile, and then get self-reflective. Oh, and I’ll be back . . . when you least expect it.

        Like

  • Nicola

    I’m really pretty bad at holding a grudge, and TERRIBLE at maintaining vendettas – even when I am still feeling pretty “you are a giant arse” inside, not so good at externalising that. Maybe you could lend me some of your “you are dead to me” skillz, just so I can practice with them? I am so glad this post had a happy ending – you had me scared for a while there, but you guys did the brave thing.

    Like

    • lucysfootball

      Oh, you definitely don’t want my dead to me skills. They’re useless. They do nothing but cause trouble. It’s better to have the skill to let them go – and I’m glad you do.

      Thank you – it was scary. So I guess that is brave, right? Doing the scary thing even THOUGH it’s the scary thing?

      Like

      • ganza_art

        The story is very good, I was also anxious about your josh and you, having the same attitude towards ‘dead’ people. Your story is a pretty nice stimulus to stop being so tough

        Like

  • mfennvt

    Okay, you made me tear up. I know how to hold grudges, too, and I’m glad this one was lifted from you.

    Like

    • lucysfootball

      Aw, thank you! I’m trying to let more of them go. Life’s short. Too short for silly grudges. (I have some bigger grudges, that are more self-protection things…those, I think, will stay.)

      Like

  • The Waiting

    I was hoooooooorible in college too. I also often wonder why my friends who have stayed around sine then saw in me back then. I’m so glad your meeting went well! There is nothing better than a new old friend ;D

    Like

    • lucysfootball

      I think there’s a possibility that most of us are. I’m thinking back over the people I knew in college, and I honestly can only think of one person (ONE!) who was just an amazing person then, and has remained so. (She was just so unnaturally calm, and cool, even then – she had this aura of adultness around her. She made you feel so good, just being around her.) The rest of us were on different levels of the spectrum of “we have a lot of growing up to do,” I think.

      I think the people that stuck with you saw the amazing woman you’ve become. And good for them! They were RIGHT!

      Like

  • Ehjay

    I felt like I could have written this post. I’m so glad you went and met up with Josh again! It took me a long time to realize how awful I had been in college, and I am starting to make a bit more amends for it now.

    Like

    • lucysfootball

      It’s hard to see, isn’t it? It’s so much easier to think, “it was THEM! It wasn’t ME! I AM PERFECTION!”

      Mostly, it’s just embarrassing to think of that person now, to think of all those stupid mistakes and all those “learning moments”…and to learn to forgive ourselves for them.

      Like

  • Heather

    This brought tears to my eyes. This is really awesome.

    I went through something similar with a very good guy friend whom I thought I’d never speak to again. We didn’t quite make it seventeen years, but it was a longer time than I was comfortable with. And like Josh, this guy reached out–through my mother–and apologized. And our friendship, in most ways, is just as strong now as it was all those years ago. There is something in the back of my mind that keeps me on my toes, though. That’s the unfortunate part.

    And yes, grudges take A LOT of energy–energy you don’t even realize you’re using, most of the time. I have a few that I’ll never give up, but they’re more like forgetting those people even exist.

    I think we’re always cookie dough. We’ll never be fully baked (hee!), but we can get close.

    Beautiful post, Amy. I’m sure it took a lot to write this. You get all the props for your honesty, and for getting closer to being a cookie.

    Like

  • cynthiaw

    Thank you for sharing this – I have a tendency to forgive people over and over until, one day, BAM – DEAD.TO.ME. I’m glad that this situation worked out well for you – I had one a few years back that did NOT and, frankly, it’s taken me quite some time to work my way back from trusting that person again, only to get screwed over AGAIN. Time, and some therapy to help work through both the betrayal and my tendency to wall myself off from everyone – including family, which also includes a bunch of people who don’t deserve to be shut out just because some people are JERKFACES.

    I also bust out the Buffy quotes at times that may or may not be appropriate – like at my sister’s wedding reception when, during my matron-of-honor speech I busted out the “If you hurt her, I’ll beat you to death with a shovel” quote – because a “vague disclaimer is nobody’s friend”. Fortunately, my sister and new brother-in-law were big BtVS fans, so that time was appropriate.

    Like

    • lucysfootball

      There are certain people I forgive often (and probably will, forever) but most people, they break my trust, they’re gone. I don’t regrow trust easily.

      Are “Buffy” quotes ever inappropriate? Are they really? I’d argue no.

      Like

  • Joshua Corin

    When I was younger (and had more hair), I used to ponder the meaning of life, but now that I’m nearing middle-aged (and my middle is nearing the cliff of my waistband), I don’t give life’s meaning all that much thought, primarily because I think I’ve figured it out (and secondarily because whatever I give much thought I end up forgetting about a few minutes later, which leads me to today’s joke: Q. What do you call an absent-minded squirrel with ADD? A. It doesn’t matter).

    In other words:

    The meaning of life is other people. Good people, smart people, people who challenge you, people who make you laugh, people who know just where to poke you or tickle you or just how to hug you after a night of smiles.

    Thank you, Amy, for once again filling in my blanks, as only you can.

    Like

    • lucysfootball

      This is a most excellent comment. I am not in the least bit surprised by that.

      (By the way, world, this is Josh. Yes, THAT Josh. Say hi to Josh!)

      You’re completely right about the other people, by the way. I can pinpoint where I became secure in myself as a person to when I stopped being a total hermit and started letting people in – really in, not just “yes, hi, good, great, see ya” in, you know? And the RIGHT people, too. The ones that should have been there all along, and the ones that stayed even though they had absolutely no reason to.

      Thank you. Sincerely. For a lot of things, not just a fantastic dinner at my most favorite diner in all of the Capital District.

      Like

  • jbrown3079

    I can hold a grudge with the best of them. I look at it as a parking space for my anger. If I need to get angry, I have to go find where I parked it. By then, hopefully, the moment has passed.

    Like

    • lucysfootball

      I like that. A lot. I am a little slower to anger than I used to be (luckily – I used to be SUCH a ragemonster) but I still have my moments. I should park farther away from now on, I think. Make it more of a hike.

      Like

  • Normal is the New Weird

    Thank you so much for this post. I was horrendously drunk and melodramatic all through college as well, and as a result, I do not have any friendships that survived the experience. Save for one. It’s embarrassing, and when I think about it, I’m absolutely horrified by my behavior back then.

    Of course, I have to remember (like you said), I was a child, and certainly nowhere near done baking yet.

    I’m just so relieved to know I’m not the only one who was a dick (your word, but oh so true), and also not the only one who can look back on it and recognize that I have changed for the better.

    And that I deserve redemption.

    I love that your friend is back in your life. It’s amazing how much water flows under that damn bridge when we’re too busy beating ourselves up.

    Like

    • lucysfootball

      We definitely need to learn to forgive ourselves for our childhood. We may have made a lot of mistakes (at least, I know I did – a LOT) but we were children, and we were learning our way, our fumbling, stumbling way. Maybe we needed to do that in order to become who we’d become now; maybe we wouldn’t be the people we are now, these people we can be proud of, without some of those mistakes under our belt. It might just have been our path to take, you know? The lessons we needed to learn, as hard as they were.

      You most definitely deserve redemption. Forgive yourself. It’s the past. You’re better now. We all (hopefully) are, right?

      Like

  • April Campbell-McMillan

    Good for you! (Which is,I know, a very “gurl” thing to say)

    Like

  • jennannro

    I’m another cryface over here. You are BRAVE. What a journey you have to be proud of. I feel like we should have cookiedays in addition to birthdays. I think I’m still gooey in the centre, but maybe that’s just how my cookie bakes.

    Like

  • grrgoyl

    Well this looks right up your alley. http://www.amazon.com/What-Would-Buffy-Spiritual-ebook/dp/B001GPOSZ6/ref=pd_sim_b_5

    I don’t mean to sound smug or superior, but I think I’ve always been a cookie. Or maybe a stale fruitcake. I was, as I just read recently in a fanfic, “born old.” Never could relate to kids my age. It was worse in college, where I didn’t drink or party (still don’t). Not to say I was never a dick, but if I was, it was following beliefs and principles I hold to this day. I haven’t changed much (then again, this is all from my perspective. Maybe people who knew me then would have a different story).

    I also never alienated a friend for 17 years, although I did lose a dear one through no fault of my own. My beloved Brian, with whom I spent an entire year in school living like two Lost Boys. Unfortunately he flunked out and his parents shipped him off to the Coast Guard, and I haven’t heard from him since. Reading about your successful reunion makes me wish I had something like that in my future with Brian, but it’s highly, highly unlikely. Still, good on you for being big enough to drop your heavy, useless load.

    Like

    • lucysfootball

      Some people are just more mature, going into it. Like I said in another comment, I had a close friend in college (who I’ve sadly lost contact with, and I miss her) who was like that – she was just the most preternaturally mature woman I’ve ever known. But not in a supercilious way at all – she just had this internal calm. She was an old soul. In the best possible way.

      Sometimes the ones we lose through no fault of our own hurt even more. It seems so very unfair. I have to hope that I’ll find my lost people someday – and you will, as well.

      Like

  • Krysty

    Buffy for life lessons, Angel for career lessons, and Firefly for caper lessons — right?

    That said, I was a mean girl in college. Had a clique and all that. Now I look back and feel like slapping the bitch that I was.

    Like

  • emmawolf

    I’m glad to know I’m not the only one who was a dick in college. I’m trying to forget most of what happened there. Not out of any grudge, I just don’t like who I was. (Which is actually kind of sad.)

    Like

  • kianathecliche

    Forgiveness is tough, especially forgiveness of self. Thank you for sharing this with humility and grace.
    Feeling inspired to not carry that kind of baggage around.

    Like

  • the_tovarysh_connection

    We were all so young once and have done things we regret. The forgiveness here is not only for Josh, but for yourself. Sounds like there was a sprinkling of wisdom on top of the cookie you’ve become. Nibble at it and savor the flavor. For you have earned it. Congrats on a giant leap forward. And Josh sounds like a keeper of a friend. ;-)

    Like

  • Going back in time. « Dancing with Fireflies

    […] I’m ready. I’m cookies. (lucysfootball.com) […]

    Like

  • broadsideblog

    Loved this.

    The problem with holding a grudge too long is that “dead to me” can actually be…dead. I knew a guy in my mid-20s (not college) but during that claw-your-way-up-the-ladder-era every young journalist (as we both were then) goes through. He became a lawyer, highly respected for fighting for people who’d been unfairly fired. He was a complicated guy and we had a lot of unresolved stuff…

    I wondered often what happened to him (we re-connected briefly when I was 37 and newly divorced)…and when I googled him a few months ago found his obituary. He had died far too young, recently, of cancer.

    Jesus. Don’t wait too long. You can really regret it.

    Like

    • lucysfootball

      Thank you!

      That’s so sad. I’m sorry to hear that. Along a similar line, I resolved a while back to tell the people I love that I love them regularly. And make sure they know it not only through my words, but through my actions. You never know when you won’t get another chance, and I don’t want to lose anyone else in my life without being sure that they know exactly what they mean to me when they go.

      I’m so sorry about your friend.

      Like

      • broadsideblog

        Thanks…It was a terrible shock and a powerful reminder that people die young and unexpectedly all the time. I figured (as I think many of us do) we’d make up sometime. That time, to my deep regret, is now never.

        Like

  • Jobeeloobyloo

    Thought provoking, hilarious and poignant. Thank you!

    Like

  • Richard McCargar

    I learned this lesson early in life. My last conversation with my father was an argument on a Wednesday thirty-nine years ago. He was thirty-nine (yes, big anniversary in my family of six siblings – remembering), and I was weeks away from turning seventeen.

    Don’t allow arguments to to unresolved. I’m now fifty-five, and never get to tell my father I’m sorry. It’s been a long, thirty-nine years in that regard.

    But a lesson learned well.

    Like

  • muddledmom

    Wonderful post. Glad you reconnected. That whole “cookie baking” thing, perfect.

    Like

  • allthoughtswork

    I spent all of college–and after college, and before college, and pretty much everything up until just recently–morphing into whatever the people around me wanted me to be. I thought their comfort and pleasure meant my worth. Eff that. I became a social drain hole cover, collecting the most selfish human lint on the planet.

    It was easy deep-sixing those relationships. Dead to me? I was more like Charlie X in the old Star Trek series: I grimace, they disappear from my reality. I didn’t just burn bridges, I sterilized the countryside.

    Now, I’m very, very careful about who I give my time and attention to. And why. And there better be copious amounts of chocolate chunks in their cookies. I’m due. Nom, nom, nom.

    Like

    • lucysfootball

      I understand that. Completely. There was a time I would change to be the person that the people around me needed me to be. No more. I’m me; take me or leave me. And if you leave me – well, you weren’t necessary in my life, anyway.

      Thank you for reading!

      Like

  • lndngeek

    This was pretty awesome!

    It did remind me about things I didn’t particularly care to be reminded about, but it was so honest and fun to read it’s definitely made my million random WordPress clicks tonight worth it.

    Like

    • lucysfootball

      Thank you! There are a lot of things from back then I’d rather not think about, but sometimes you have to, I think. If only to forgive yourself for them, maybe. I’m so glad you enjoyed the read!

      Like

  • Veage

    Amazing. You acted how I acted in college, and it’s been only two years now. I like to think I’m a brownie. And I love this. Thanks.

    Like

  • greengeekgirl

    You have always been cookies for me! :-* Really good cookies. Like the chocolate chip cookies that hubs makes.

    I’m glad this went so well for you!

    Like

  • itsfruitcakeweather

    I’m done college just yet but I really enjoyed this.

    Like

    • lucysfootball

      Just remember – college is your learning period. You will make mistakes. Please don’t beat yourself up too much about them! Do your best. No one can ask more of you. And thank you – and thank you for reading!

      Like

  • Mar Martini

    I love this. What a story!

    Like

  • moodsnmoments

    As always, Lucy, loved your post. powerful emotions, simply stated. brilliant.

    Like

  • cartoline

    Wow is all I can say! Beautiful, moving, heart melting story, and the comparison between growing up and cookie dough is absolutely amazing! :)

    enjoy the friendship! :)

    Like

  • lenavh

    I was all drama and one of the mean girls. I am surprised and relieved at how many hitting “confirm friend request” button after all those years (yes, after realizing I was the dick, I wanted to be the one reaching out). And for those who “ignored” I don’t blame them as they only knew the back-in-the-day me. Thank you for sharing.

    Like

    • lucysfootball

      Thank you for reading! It’s good of you to reach out to people to try to make amends – I’m not quite there yet (don’t know if I ever will be, but I certainly hope I will be, someday.) It shows a lot of character. Best of luck to you!

      Like

  • godtisx

    You’re bigger than alot of people are, I’m the Josh to one or two people. So you are the girl with the most cake. To some. Forgiveness, one of the hardest things to accomplish and you did it. :) I don’t even know you but I’m genuinely happy for you both.

    Like

  • pointlesscookie

    Hey, I’m cookie too! Still gooey an chewy in the middle, but I like my cookies that way. Love the way you wrote this. Makes it easier to recognize people who have yet to bake and forgive.

    Like

  • lebatavia

    Reblogged this on c'est la vie. and commented:
    wow this really got me thinking; i might not be a cookie yet, but I’m in the oven alright.

    Like

  • breadnbuttr

    Loved this post! A great analogy. We are all cookies/ cookie dough. I think I’m actually still cookie dough waiting to bake. I think at one point in my life, I may have actually been a cookie that overcooked and eventually crumbled. You gotta know when to get out of the oven. I stayed in too long, and eventually got burned. So here I am again, a fresh batch of cookie dough waiting to bake :-)

    Like

  • lebatavia

    honestly I can’t tell you how much i can relate on being a dick, just like you were, who knows you could be my future. i’m just 18 and a dick to everyone, every single person. so thank you so much, i think this post has given me strength to change who i am, because that’s exactly what i plan to do; oven myself x.

    Like

    • lucysfootball

      You’re 18. Don’t beat yourself up too much; just do your best. It’s all anyone can ask of you and it’s all you can ask of yourself. (And if you’re kind to yourself, I think you’ll find it’s easier to be kind to others.)

      Like

  • janebroc

    Great piece. I tend however to focus on that gut reaction when Josh friended you on FB. I know how these feelings can block the person you’re still becoming. I still flounder with these bouts of ego. At 50 I thought I would’ve mastered or at least tamped that down a bit. Thanks for sharing.

    Like

    • lucysfootball

      I usually trust my gut reactions – and in the past, they were usually the right ones. But as I get older, I realize that maybe my gut’s not as smart as I thought it was, and my brain (and my heart) might know more than I give them credit for.

      Thank you for reading!

      Like

  • scribblechic

    Old friends accepting us, apologies and imperfections, is a rare and wonderful gift.

    Like

  • climbing bean

    Buffy is always appropriate :)

    I look back on me at uni… I thought I had it together! But really, I so didn’t. I guess you’re not supposed to.

    Frankly, I’m still waiting to grow up. I look back since I turned 30, and I suppose I’ve got it together more since then… but with only just over two years until I’m 40, I don’t hold much hope for any great leaps forward :D

    I’m really glad to read that you and Josh were able to reconnect.

    Like

    • lucysfootball

      I thought I did back then, too. And, I suppose, I might look back on this time twenty years from now and say, “whoa, I thought I had it together in my late 30s, and I was such a mess!” but I won’t know until later, I suppose.

      Thank you! I’m glad, too. It was such a happy thing to happen.

      Like

  • Karl Drobnic

    When I come across posts such as yours, I’m genuinely surprised at how many people look back on their college years as “party wasteland”. Yet they seem to have graduated. I partied, and I had too many moments of being less than a good person, but I also studied, a lot. How else do people graduate? I see people responding here who have great vocabularies and superior writing skills. How did they become so articulate if they partied so hard? Maybe it’s what we choose to remember – I recall long, slow treks through the library stacks more than the partying. I guess others emphasize quite different memories. (But to those I offended in those long ago years, well, I, too, apologize.)

    Like

    • lucysfootball

      I was very lucky in that I majored in subjects where much studying wasn’t required. Mostly writing papers or performing. Which I am very good at. Writing and performing are my thing. And I could do them drunk, hungover, a combination of the two, or sober as a judge. Lucky girl, me.

      Like

  • bernasvibe

    OOoo I love the cookie analogy..I’m cookies also! But once I was so very much the cookie dough…Just this weekend had a chat with my eldest son in similar dialogue..He said something like @ I’m so very different than I was even 10 years ago.(he’s 30 now..) Can’t imagine having entered a serious relationship at 20 yrs old; who knows IF I’d still be in love with them now that I have CHANGED..Evolution is a wonderful thing when its progressive..Glad to see you’ve done that Amy! :) 2 thumbs UP to be all grown UP & fully baked. Yay! Superb write..Really like your writing style. I’ll be back for more soon..

    Like

    • lucysfootball

      Thank you! Your son’s completely right – the difference between 20s and 30s is HUGE. (And I wonder the same thing – as you change, how many relationships break up because of it? Or does the other person change, too, and your changes work together?) Thanks for reading, and I’m so glad you’re here!

      Like

      • bernasvibe

        My parents have been married (& in love) for 51 yrs & counting..I’ve seen first hand that it can be done @ evolving together & still staying in love..BUT it takes a lot of consistent work & effort..Alot..Main thing they’ve always told me is a couple MUST be on the same sheet of music..My ex husband is one of my dear friends even after 20 plus years; all I have to master now is doing that married. Lol! Anyways I’m glad you were FP’ed because I discovered your spot..Write ON

        Like

  • bofonic

    Love and forgiveness is the answer to everything in life:) I’m glad you’ve learned this:) We’re all constantly learning and evolving ! Kudos to you:)

    Like

  • ThePeopleIHaveSleptWith

    So relatable. I was the same way.

    Like

  • fabuloco3

    I think I’m still in that whole being a sick phase…

    Like

  • debra colby

    I don’t think anyone ever turned the oven on…cuz I’m still undercooked and need more time.

    Like

  • bookgirljo

    Brilliant, relatable, fantastically written – and of course anything that uses Buffy references is just the biscuit. I did find something wrong with my computer screen whilst reading this, the words went all blurred and difficult to see – Ok I admit, it might have been something in my eye… But just dust, or onion juice or something!
    I’m glad for both you and Josh that you were willing to give him another chance and he was willing to reach out. Friendship is definitely a gift from God and I hope yours continues to be a blessing to you both – your story gives me a wee bit of hope too as there is someone out there who does treat me like I’m dead to them…. I’m not going to give up either, just hoping she gets done baking sooner or later.

    Thanks for a fantastic post!

    Like

  • harulawordsthatserve

    Great post! I’m happy for the two of you, and maybe it’s time I turned into cookies too. There’s a friend I had a ‘fight’ with about the same time ago, 17 years ish, and I’ve resisted until now…but you just might have inspired me. Forgiveness is a topic that’s very much with me right now, so a timely post … and so true, grudges are heavy! Thanks and blessings, Harula xxxxx

    Like

    • lucysfootball

      Thank you! There’s nothing to be lost in reaching out and seeing if there’s anything left there to salvage – and you’re right, if for no other reason than grudges are heavy, and we have enough work getting through life without being burdened by extra weight.

      Like

  • Soul Walker

    I love Buffy and cookies.

    Like

  • I have not been kidnapped by pirates. I promise. | Lucy’s Football

    […] people contacted me on Monday to tell me they were Freshly Pressing the blog I wrote last week about meeting up with Josh last weekend, and I could not have been more pleased. What a great post to choose, and what an honor for them to […]

    Like

  • charlielaneauthor

    I said something really stupid which I immediately regretted but couldn’t take back to a close friend on Saturday.

    I am old enough to know better but messed up the chance I had to be truly happy because of my emotional baggage. I had hoped that by now I would have learned from past mistakes but I seem to keep recreating some of them.

    Your post has given me hope that maybe one day I will be forgiven for my mistake and my friend will still want to know me.

    Like

    • lucysfootball

      If it’s a close friend, he/she will forgive you if you genuinely mean the apology. I know they will.

      But I know all about emotional baggage. I have a matching set; hatbox, makeup case, the whole shebang.

      We all make mistakes. Our true friends understand that and still love us, despite them.

      Thanks for reading – sending you all the good thoughts.

      Like

  • femaleramblings

    I thoroughly enjoyed reading this post. I am twenty myself and can actually feel myself behaving in the dickish way you described of yourself 17 years ago. I’m going to try and take heed of this post and avoid missing a single year of any of my friendships! Really interesting and insightful outlook on life. Thanks for writing! Xxx

    Like

    • lucysfootball

      Thank you for reading! It’s tough. I completely remember twenty. You have so much going on in your life, and it’s not always easy to think of others. Do your best; it’s all anyone can ask of you, and it’s all you can ask of yourself. (And you’re probably doing better than you think you are!)

      Like

  • Katalina4

    Oh, such a lovely happy ending! The beginning was funny and oh-so-easy to identify with, and I’m very very glad things turned out the way they did. Great friends ROCK!

    Like

  • phenomdotcom

    Oh gosh, I can relate to this. Well written!!

    Like

  • penjedi

    I can so relate to the “dead to me” impulse. You had the guts to dig yourself out of that grave. Good for you.

    Like

  • Julianne Q Johnson

    Came here because I recognized the Buffy quote in the title, and really enjoyed the article. It sounds to me like you baked into some awesome cookieness as well.

    Like

  • tanyakamal

    I enjoyed this article so much. Im in my early 20’s and I get what you are talking about. I can relate to it so much. Though I have forgiven a lot of people recently when clearly they haven’t deserved it. I feel I cannot forget. And thats the hardest part because it haunts me time to time and then I cannot do anything about it because I have forgiven.. Grrr.. I hope one day I can forget too!!
    Love your writing. I wanted to know whether there is a way I can get your book here in New delhi, India?? I would love to read it.
    Cheers

    Like

    • lucysfootball

      Thank you so much! It’s sometimes harder to forget than forgive – but time softens memories to fuzziness. Promise. (Even the ones you want to keep, sadly.)

      Sorry, my book went out of print a couple months ago, so no one can get it anymore…hoping to write another one someday, so keep an eye out! Thank you for your interest, though, that’s so sweet of you!

      Like

  • Linda D.S.

    What a perfect metaphor for growing up! Plus it kind of makes me hungry … personal fulfillment and chocolate in the same thought? Perfection.

    I just stumbled upon your blog and really enjoy it! Nice work! :)

    Like

  • bensbitterblog

    I was a pretty stale and uncooked cookie that eventually through much heat and time turned out to be a burnt and bitter tasting one in my current state. Can I get a redo?

    Like

    • lucysfootball

      You certainly can. You’re in charge of your own redo, though, so you have to do that yourself.

      (Nothing wrong with bitter. Sometimes bitter is funny. Unless it gets mean. It’s a fine line between snarky-bitter and mean-bitter. I do so love a snarky-bitter person, though. They’re my favorite folk.)

      Like

      • bensbitterblog

        I hope there is nothing wrong with bitter. My whole blog is based on it. (Maybe that is why no one follows it.)

        Like

        • lucysfootball

          Because I like challenges (and bitterness), I totally checked out your blog. A., LOTS of people follow it, and B., it’s funny as hell. I don’t believe in the WordPress reader follow nonsense but I’m totally following you in my own secret off-the-grid sort of way. BAM.

          Like

          • bensbitterblog

            Secret ways huh? Maybe I could try that way to stalk, uh I mean follow people as well. I don’t like challenges because I am lazy, but I do like bitterness…as most people can tell.

            Like

            • lucysfootball

              I just follow the people I like with my RSS reader. I used to click follow on WordPress, but since I don’t use the WordPress reader it seemed like an exercise in futility. I should probably still do it, though, just to show my support, and stop being such a stubborn asshat.

              Like

              • bensbitterblog

                I don’t care how you do it, as long as you get to read the bitterness. And as you and your bitter friends know, as long as people exist there will be something to write about. I’ve always wanted to do one about not being freshly pressed too. That would make WP’s day.

                Like

  • Palindroming around with Anna

    Amy, this post really touched me. I have found that with age, we all soften…and not just in the stomach region. Having been on both sides of forgiveness, my world is a lot more forgiving, patient and tolerable. You are the first blog I have liked, as I am new here :)

    Like

    • lucysfootball

      Thank you so much, and what an honor to be your first blog! We do soften as we age, and hopefully for the better. I know I’m more forgiving now – and I think it has something to do with the fact that I’m more aware now that my time is limited. I’m fairly sure that, at that age, I thought I was immortal. Not quite, younger-me, but thanks for playing!

      Like

  • Lily Lick

    After reading this I might … maybe, think about it some more and then decide … to meet for dinner with that dick I dated in college. The one that, after having put him off in August once again, had the audacity to point out that he’d been coming to Toronto for a 7 day trip every year for 10 years in a row and still no meet up. I was a little surprised that it’d been that long …. maybe next year. I’ve got time to think about it.
    Just found your blog — I like it.
    Lily

    Like

    • lucysfootball

      Well, I’ll caution you – sometimes forgiving someone and moving on DOESN’T have to mean meeting up with them. If there’s something in your head telling you that you don’t want to meet up with the guy, maybe there’s a reason. Romantic exes and friend exes are on different planes, in my mind – and I have a few romantic exes I can tell you I’d never, in a million years, meet up with again, for very good reasons. There are a whole different set of emotions at play there.

      Just be careful with your heart. We only get the one, you know?

      Thank you for reading!

      Like

  • lonelyatlast

    SUCH a great story that I can definitely relate to, even right out of college!
    Betti

    Like

  • andy1076

    Oof! felt like I just had a walk down memory lane with some of the references, Good times lol :D

    Like

  • Justin Almeida

    Thank goodness I’ve matured a bit since my early 20s. I was an egotistical, selfish SOB who was holier than thou on one side, and emotionally manipulative on the other. Your post reminded me of all the people who didn’t give up on me; who forgave me even after 10 years of bad blood and bad karma. We’re cookies now too, and are looking forward to more baking in the future. Thank you for the honesty and pragmatism. Cheers!

    Like

    • lucysfootball

      Thank you so much for reading! I think we were all that way, to some extent, in our twenties – it’s a terrible time. Those of us that survived it look back with a lot of guilt. All we can do is forgive ourselves, make amends and move on, I suppose…

      Like

  • allthenamesaretakensothisisreallyreallylong

    This was a great read! I recall thinking that I knew everything at 19. I was so very mistaken. I wasn’t fully baked until close to a decade later!

    Like

  • oxherder

    Forgiveness is a powerful thing!

    Like

  • Liebster Awards! | lobestir

    […] 1. Lucy’s Football. It’s possible Amy is out of the running for a Liebster, since she’s been Freshly Pressed twice. Still, I would like to let her know how much I loved her piece about growing up. Hey, I’m trying to be “cookies,” too. (You’ll just have to read her post to know what I mean.) […]

    Like

  • theslowthaw

    I love this! It has taken me a good while to get fully baked and I am grateful to have friends back in my life that I once thought were gone forever. This growing up thing can be nice sometimes :)

    Like

  • Deepali Mayekar

    Best part of forgiving is that it starts with difficulty but gets easier with every step. The weight of a grudge will discomfort the soul..
    So well put by you in your simple logical writing.

    Like

  • thirdworldcountrygirl

    I’m still a cookie dough lol

    Like

  • juledennings

    I Love ur way of writing and I really enjoy reading the whole text loudly so I really hear what u want to tell in this story. What ur writing is so deep and It’s really touching me and the fact that ur so poetic and so wise e me doubt if that what u wrote in the first part is possible to be true just a little bit.
    But it still makes sense and it’s even helping me, cause I might be in this time
    Thank u for making my evening just a little better

    Like

  • karyraejeanel

    Wow! I absolutely love love LOVE this. You, are an amazing writer AND inspiration.
    Kary

    Like

  • Aubrey

    You are a fabulous writer. You make me want to be your best friend based off of word choice alone. Bravo!

    Like

  • Mr MakingUsmile

    Freshed baked cookies!!!! The stress of life can and will wear you down at any age. You story reminds me of my girlfriend at the time who is now my wife. She used to pull her trigger over the simpliest of lifes problems. Without thinking she would pull the pin out of her grenade. She must of somehow drank some emotionally intelligence because we are doing great. Maybe she baked cookies! Thanks for making me smile.

    Mr MakingUsmile

    Like

  • Samantha

    Okay so, I have NO idea how I missed this post. But it’s excellent. And I’m so so glad that you have that weight off of your shoulders, and a good friend back in your life. Joshes tend to be pretty cool people. But I’m biased. :P

    I’m glad that you decided to mend it. You’re a great cookie. Being a cookie instead of dough is a brave thing to do. :)

    Like

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