Somewhere in my mid-twenties, a handful of years into graduate schooling, with a series of rotating apartments and a persistently ring-less finger, my dad and his best friend, Lynn, began referring to my boyfriends as “Roadkill.” I wasn’t particularly promiscuous, but inching up on 30, the sheer numbers of boys who would never be my husband got, well… numerous. More often than not, I was the one who was bored, disillusioned, or unfaithful (sorry, boys) and the one to call it quits. Thus, Roadkill.
Ty was my neighbor and probably one of my closest buddies during senior year of high school. He will always be one of the funniest people I have ever known. Carpooling to school through rural neighborhoods we once saw a horse do a yawn-whinny thing that we imitated often and at impromptu times. It was only hilarious to the two of us. “Are you cereal?” he’d ask. “Not nece-celery,” was the answer. He loved The Grateful Dead, so my Julie Andrews covers were deliciously irritating (to him) and entertaining (to me): Roooolll A-Wheyyyy the Doooo! Do you have that one friend who makes you laugh at nothing—a Jerry Seinfeld with a Pez dispenser? That was Ty for me.
Ty and I spent many bellyaching, laughing-too-hard-to-breathe nights together. Chastely. We were truly just friends. But you can imagine how well Ty went over with The Roadkill. One summer night I brought a new boy home. Ty was over for dinner, which was common. Wine was flowing, which was really common. And everyone was making fun of each other, which is in the Stockton Family Syllabus. Future Roadkill misread the room– or was too thin skinned– and got a little territorial about being the boyfriend (with its implied set of privileges) instead of the friend. Ty didn’t miss a beat.
“Whatever, dude. Next year Britt will be with some other guy, but I’ll still… be… right… here.”
Roadkill was the only one who didn’t find this funny. He didn’t last very long. The next one did, but even he ended up smeared all over the grille. Those were Lynn’s words as he and Judy poured me the tallest and tastiest vodka tonic I’ve ever had, and listened to my latest misadventures in love. After that break up, I drove 7 hours to see them, their daughter, and to languish ring-less-ly on the deck of their gorgeous beach house… and to laugh.
I met Bernie just a few months later.
Thinking about Valentine’s Day, these memories shifted to the top of my mind like the big popcorn pieces when you shake the bucket. Suddenly I’m aware of Great Loves in my life who never gave me flowers or chocolates or rings, but made me pee-a-little giggle and poured me gigantic cocktails as I plowed through the dating years that led me to the best one.
Ty and me on my 21st birthday. Can’t imagine why all the Roadkill hated him.
Blooms and Bubbles 
Z
Marie over at scribblechic (https://scribblechic.com/2017/02/11/words-between-us/#comment-8894) on love:
“Early loves are great educators of the impossible. The unlikely certainty that allows us to leap against the unknown bound by promises and dreams that forever tether our expectations of love in pages of old letters freckled with daydreams that parade as plans.”
Hop over there for more of that sort of beauty.
I am flattered, blushing from my toes to my prematurely gray roots. Thank you.
My (boy) friend was a curly haired champion of sarcasm with nary a minute to spare on my impermanent infatuations. When my children each developed similarly unromantic relationships with the opposite sex I relished the belly laughs and uncomplicated ease with which they fell into their own great loves. Thankfully we aren’t at the roadkill stage, yet. 😉
I shared those words of yours on Facebook, too… where my old AP English teacher who wrote, “I rinsed with those words.”
Roadkill isn’t so terrible… when you’re Jeep Cherokee.
Bernie is like a good book that you ever want to finish,,,,the others may have been best sellers, fun reading, but not the ONE.
Happy Valentines !
Yes! Exactly! The book is still great. And I get to return to it every night. xoxo
I meant NEVER want to finish!!
As you have accepted your guilt of being a serial roadkiller in toto, I rest my case even before I begin. I notice how even the camera gave you the vampire’s eyes while Ty’s eyes remain human. I got to visit the ‘Big Shot Jerk Face’ too, and the infographic on the eclipse of a glass heart.
Totally guilty. Thanks for stopping by, and for clicking over to read about the boy who will never be Roadkill.
This was a fabulous Valentine post. Bernie is a lucky man. I can’t imagine why roadkill would find Ty intimidating. Right!
Thanks, John. It’s been fun to share Ty and this old family story in the spirit of Valentines. So flattered you stopped by! xxoo
🙂
So, Britt, what has become of Ty these days? Are you still in contact with him? He sounds like such a good friend, so I hope you are still in touch.
I am in touch with his family… but haven’t seen Ty since my wedding. Nice to hear from you, Elissa!! xoxo
Roadkill?
I love it!