I was a little late when I first discovered boys. Not significantly late, mind you, but I had skipped the first grade and although academically I was on par and even above my classmates, some of the biological and social aspects of being younger began to catch up with me around junior high.
My parents and I lived in a small town in middle America, the kind of town where people know one another and friendliness is expected. My parents weren’t native to the town as much of the population was, we had moved there from a major metropolitan area when I was six. After taking me to be enrolled in school and a brief conversation with the principal, it was decided I would be better suited in second grade. This bothered me little, I was more concerned that my teacher would have good books to read than anything else.
Coincidently, our nearest neighbors in our new town lived about a quarter mile away and had a son, Ryan, who was beginning second grade as well. Though he was more than a full year older than I, our mothers encouraged us to play together and we did. Ryan was skeptical of playing with a girl at first but after I had proven I could indeed throw a ball and wasn’t afraid of worms, he deemed me alright. His parents had lived in the town for years and had roots there and they were quite kind to my family, inviting us over for barbecues and out to town gatherings.
I was an only child, the only child of two very busy, ambitious parents–and I enjoyed playing at Ryan’s because he had not only great toys but an older brother Jason and a much older sister Laura who paid me lots of attention. Not that my parents didn’t pay attention to me, they did, but in some ways they had always regarded me as another adult and while I appreciated this mostly, there were times when I wanted to be around other kids. At Ryan’s house I could do this, there were always kids around and his sister and her friends doted on me and dressed me up and let me play with the dolls they had outgrown. It was wonderful and I spent a lot of time there during grade school.
Over the years, Ryan and I became quite good friends, as there was only one class in each grade at our school, we were always in the same class and our last names, mine Walters and his Walker, were so close we often ended up sitting next to one another. By the time we reached the eighth grade, we were more or less best friends although that label can be a difficult one in junior high. People who didn’t know may have thought we were boyfriend and girlfriend but the truth couldn’t be farther, in fact Ryan had been dating my best girlfriend Heather since the fall of that year. He had turned into a class stud–tall but not gawky like so many boys at that age are, with dark hair and eyes and skin clear of teenage acne. He was an outstanding athlete, he wrestled and played football but baseball was his passion and it was his best sport. He had the benefit of practicing all the time with Jason who was two years older and a star on the high school team himself.
Ryan was smart too, in fact we were the top students in our class. I was still pretty small at the time, being twelve and with a summer birthday when many of my classmates were thirteen turning fourteen, but I was aware of social changes going on and did my best to keep up. While my chest wasn’t as big as some other girls, I was a cute girl and boys had definitely noticed. I wasn’t really interested in any of them although Heather was sure to tell me who she thought liked me. She had two older sisters and was very aware of boyfriends and the latest fashion and makeup trends. She was very pretty, tall and blonde and she and Ryan were the It couple of the junior high.
Heather knew Ryan and I were friends but there was no jealousy, for one our school was small enough that most everyone had known everyone else since forever and two, it was clear we regarded one another as near-siblings. I was, however, more of a confident, having private conversations with each of them and often acting as a go-between so I came away with lots of knowledge of their relationship, though mostly trivial as early adolescent relationships tend to be.
Heather was doing my hair one day before soccer pictures, espousing the usual girl talk, who had bad hair and who had a crush on who and the like when Ryan’s name came up. It was near the end of the school year, and my birthday, which meant I would finally be a teenager. It seemed like I had been waiting for ages. In addition to getting my period and finally needing a bra I wasn’t ashamed of in the locker room, I was beginning to notice the boys in my class. Ryan was definitely one of the best looking but I had a hard time thinking of him that way.
Heather was going on about how she was going to go to Ryan’s out of town baseball tournament the next weekend if her mom would let her when she suddenly threw in “ I think Ryan’s getting glasses”. For some reason, this piqued my interest and I didn’t know why. “He says he’s not going to wear them though,” Heather went on “but he sorta can’t see the baseball as well or something. I dunno. I kinda hope he doesn’t get them”. The subject changed and she kept talking but I kept going back to Ryan and glasses...
Heather had been right, Ryan did get glasses and he really didn’t wear them. Actually, that wasn’t entirely true, he did wear them, but only during baseball games and when driving. By our junior year we had one of the top baseball teams in the state for a small school conference and Ryan was the ace pitcher and a pretty good 1st baseman. He wore a pair of round, black wire-rimmed glasses when he played, putting them on before warmups and taking them off as the final out was made. They were low minus glasses, his prescription typical of a first time wearer, and he really probably could get by without them much of the time.
It may seem strange that he didn’t wear them to see the board in school or that no teacher ever inquired about his vision but Ryan was still very bright, at the top of our class, and succeeded in class without struggling to see. He and Heather were still a couple, she was a great soccer player and the two of them were still a very attractive couple. She and I were best friends, we played soccer together and gossiped and drove an hour into the city to the mall to shop and all those fun things girls do and though she and Ryan had been together for a few years by then, I was still in some ways a link that held the communication together.
I had done my best to keep up with my classmates socially, although I didn’t date I had lots of guy friends and always had dates to the school dances. Ryan and I were still really good friends too, we were both in the top school academic program, referred to by the students as “AH” for all honors. I had taken a great interest in science and I had a 3.98 to Ryan’s 3.96 and this annoyed him since his one B was in biology. I teased him about it sometimes and he teased me for being a nerd but he was still my oldest friend and were in all the same classes so we saw a lot of one another.
At the beginning of our junior year, we had identical schedules including 2nd period math. The math teacher, Mr. Ralson, had retired the year before and was replaced with a young, energetic woman named Ms. Hallasey. Ms. Hallasey had moved from another state and it was her first year teaching. She shared all this with us as well as her philosophy on learning names which seemed ridiculous to me since there were only 400 students in our entire high school and not very many in our math class. But she seated us alphabetically, which of course mean Ryan and I ended up next to each other at the back of the room.
A week into the new school year, about the time that all the excitement of being back in school is wearing off, I found myself in math, only half-paying attention to Ms. Hallesy carry on about some theorem or another when I looked over and caught Ryan in a fierce squint. I felt myself flushing a bit but not as much as he flushed when he realized I was watching him. I must have been staring at him for him to notice but I was so startled by my own weird feeling that I wordlessly slid the notes I had been taking onto his desk. He copied my notes hurriedly and muttered “thanks” before we began our work from the textbook.
I still felt hot and I knew my face was red and I couldn’t concentrate on the assignment that the rest of the class seemed to be scribbling away at. Why did I feel this way? And why was he squinting like that? I mean, I knew he wore glasses but we had every class together and I never saw him like that. But then again, as I thought about it, he really didn’t sit that far from the front usually. Most of our classes, since they were honors courses, were smaller and everyone sat in the first two or three rows.
The bell rang while I was pondering all of this and it was a second after Ryan said “Are you coming?” that I realized I was still sitting.
“Uh, yeah,” I answered. Once again I found myself thinking about him and his glasses and now his squint.
“Thanks for your notes” he said as we walked out the classroom door and I could swear he was blushing a little.
“You’re welcome,”. I wanted to ask him about what had just happened but I couldn’t find the words and besides, I still wasn’t sure why I cared.
Over the next several weeks, Ryan and I developed a pattern. I would write the notes and keep them in between our two desks so he could copy them. This worked especially well since I was right handed and he was left handed and I sat to his right. Except to thank me, he never said a word about it and I was stumped as to why I couldn’t find a way to ask him why he didn’t just wear his glasses. Everyone already knew he had them and had seen him wearing them at baseball games. But every time I thought about it, I felt this weird, tingly feeling. Even if there was someone I thought I could ask about it, I wouldn’t have been able to verbalize what I was thinking so I just continued to be his note taker in math and when we moved to the lab for science class and he was squinting at the overhead projector, I gave him my notes for that too.
It was well into fall when the fall sports, soccer and football ended and so did my automatic ride home with Heather. As long as we had soccer practice after school, she gave several of the soccer players rides home in her cute Cabriolet convertible but she was playing basketball in the winter and I wasn’t and even though I was a junior in high school, I was still only 15 until June so my options were to take the horrendously long bus ride to my house or to beg someone for a ride.
I was contemplating my options one day as the bell rang when I saw Ryan coming my way.
“Are you going home?” he asked.
“Yeah, I was gonna ride the bus I guess,” I said.
“I can give you a ride if you want,” he said. He had wrestled in the winter until our freshman year when he almost broke his arm and put his baseball season in jeopardy. Now, he just worked out with a baseball coach from the junior college a few miles away between football and baseball season.
We headed for his truck, an old Ford his brother had driven before going to college and leaving the pickup to Ryan. I climbed in the passenger seat and as I did, Ryan pulled his glasses from his backpack and slipped them on his nose, adjusting them once or twice. I nearly passed out. He had always been a cute guy but one I regarded as a brother and best friend. But when he put those wire rimmed glasses on, I thought he looked so hot. My heart was pounding and my mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton. He didn’t seem to notice that I was in a state of, well, something, and continued talking.
“Don’t you think our writing assignment for English sucks? And what’s with Mr. Larsen giving us like, no time, to finish in class?” he was saying.
I was having a hard time looking at him and simply nodded.
“What’s the matter? Are you ok?” he asked, suddenly noticing that I was staring straight ahead and probably looked like a lunatic.
“Yeah, I’m, uh, I’m fine” I finally managed to get out though I still couldn’t look at him.
“Ok,” he replied, sounding unsure.
I couldn’t think of anything to say for the rest of the ride home. Part of me wanted to stare at him, to study how his brown eyes looked behind those glasses and how the black temples were hugging his head and how he adjusted them every now and then, pushing them up with his finger and his thumb. But I couldn’t make myself move and I was having a hard time putting a coherent thought together.
When we finally arrived at my house, I thanked him and got my backpack off the floor of the truck.
“Uh, Lauren,” he said as I stepped out onto the driveway.
“Thanks again for sharing your notes.” he smiled and his eyes, all dark and brown and behind black frames, bored right through me.
I looked down at my feet then forced myself to look up, to make eye contact. “You’re welcome. And thanks for the ride.” There, had I spoken.
He smiled and backed out, heading up the road for his own house and I made my way to the door, my head still cloudy. What was going on with me?
As with the note-sharing, Ryan giving me rides home became a sort of routine for us. Every day I’d meet him at his truck and we’d get in and he’d put his glasses on and I would smile to myself, having realized that aside from his baseball teammates, no one else got to see him wearing his glasses this close. Well, maybe he did at home but not when friends were over. His parents were pretty laid back anyway and not the kind to force things on any of their kids so as long as Ryan maintained good grades they weren’t too strict. Plus, his brother Jason wore contacts and glasses so it was probably a non-issue at their house.
We talked on our rides home about everything–school, friends, sports, music, our families, plans for after high school, and if anything our friendship was stronger than ever. Of course, he never said a word about his glasses or not being able to see in class and I was to shy or embarrassed to say anything. Heck, I couldn’t even think about it without my face going red.
Over a weekend a big group of friends, kids from our class and a few who were a year ahead of us had met at the movies to see the double feature that was playing. There was only one movie theater in town and it didn’t change movies but once a month so on that first Friday of a new movie, pretty much all of the high school was there.
Heather had picked me up, along with Ryan and another friend, Robbie, her car being the car of choice since it was red and a convertible and had a CD player her parents had installed for her birthday.
Since Ryan wasn’t driving he wasn’t wearing his glasses and apparently didn’t even have them with him. But I kept catching myself watching him to see if he would squint. There was only two movies showing so there was no need to read the choices and the candy menu hadn’t changed in years and we all knew it by heart so he didn’t have to squint there either. Maybe his eyes weren’t that bad–the writing on the board in math was pretty small, at least compared to a movie screen so maybe he wouldn’t be squinting at all. I decided that was probably true and tried to put the whole thing out of my head.
We all filed into the theater, finding seats right in the middle. I ended up sitting between Heather and Robbie, who I had long suspected had a crush on me but I regarded only as a friend. Ryan sat on the other side of Heather and when she put her head on his shoulder I had a clear view of his profile. As the lights went down and the previews started, I couldn’t help it, I glanced at Ryan and tried to watch him out of the corner of my eye. The second preview was for an sci-fi action movie, fast moving with lots of computer graphics and I watched Ryan blink hard, then narrow his eyes slightly. The tingly pang was back, hitting me full force. I made myself look straight ahead but when I looked back a minute later he was squinting and blinking and squinting again. My heart was doing flip-flops in my chest.
The movies were both good ones but all night I found myself glancing at Ryan and alternately imagining how great he would look if he slipped his glasses on. What was happening? I wondered. An innocent crush on a best friend turning into an obsession with his glasses?
It was during one of our rides home, on a rainy Thursday in February, when the subject of glasses finally came up. Ryan had beat me to the truck and was sitting in the driver’s seat, wearing his glasses and looking at himself in the rearview mirror. And not just looking at himself but really checking himself out, moving the mirror and turning his head.
Struck by some strange, fleeting moment of confidence I smiled at him as I got in the passengers side and said “You look really good with glasses.” Almost as soon as the words were out of my mouth I wanted to shove them back in but he turned to me, his face as surprised looking as I felt.
“You think so?” he asked.
Uh-oh. My voice seemed gone. His face changed from surprised to confused and I didn’t want him to mistake my hesitation for insincerity.
“No, uh, I mean yeah. Yes, you look really, really good when you wear them,” I finally managed to spit out. I was too addled to realize just yet what I had told my best friend, my best friend who was dating my other best friend.
His surprised-confused look gradually changed to a smile. “No one’s ever said that to me before.” he adjusted his glasses, then took them off for a moment and put them back on.
“Well, um, you do.” Some witty reply. But then something came to me. “No one ever says that because no one ever sees you wear them.”
“I know,” he looked a little sheepish. “I just, well, I don’t think I like the way I look in them. And you know, I don’t need them like, all the time.”
I didn’t know what to say to that so I just looked at him, taking in the way his dark eyes and defined cheekbones looked with those glasses on.
He mistook my silent admiration for admonishment. “Well, I mean, I guess they might help in math. And maybe at the movies. The movies the other night were kinda blurry. But I don’t want to wear them more than I have to because then I might feel like I need them all the time. At least that’s what happened to my brother,” he adjusted his glasses again.
“But Jason wears contacts sometimes, doesn’t he?” Ryan’s brother was at a university about an hour away and though he was pretty cute, Ryan was definitely better looking. Jason didn’t seem to mind wearing glasses though, either that or his prescription was stronger as he seemed to alternate pretty regularly between contacts and glasses.
“Yeah, he goes back and forth. My parents said that they would pay for contacts for me if I wanted but only if I was going to wear them or glasses all the time. But I don’t think I am going to do that yet. Maybe later on.” He had obviously given some thought to this.
We had reached my house but neither of us has made a move to get out. We’d had lots of good talks before but this felt different somehow. Ryan took his glasses off again and cleaned them on his t-shirt. I grabbed my backpack but something was making me linger.
“Lauren,” he slipped his specs back into place.
“Thanks.” And with that, he leaned towards me, his dark eyes closing and his mouth open ever so slightly. And our lips touched, tentatively at first, then harder, his lips on mine and the cold wire of his glasses on my cheek. My heart was pounding and the world was spinning and the radio was on but it was like there was silence.
I don’t remember getting out of the car or going into the house but I was still lying on my bed when my dad got home from work an hour later. Holy shit. What did I just do?
Much as I obsessed and replayed the kissing scene and glasses conversation that preceded it in my head, part of me was mortified that I had kissed my best friend’s boyfriend–and someone I regarded as another best friend or even brother. Wasn’t that violated some major friend codes? Wasn’t Ryan forbidden fruit or something?
Ryan didn’t seem the least bit phased by it though to say that he acted like it never happened wasn’t the case either. There was a difference in the way we looked at one another but I don’t know that it was completely noticeable to anyone else. But there was like a new, unspoken code between us, like a secret smile we shared.
Even though I felt guilty about the kiss, I liked feeling like we had this special connection and I liked that he had kissed me with his glasses on. I still couldn’t pinpoint it but I was coming around to the idea that I was attracted to guys with glasses. Other guys in our class had started to wear glasses, especially in those years between age 12 and 16 when suddenly all the guys start to grow like crazy and start thinking about driving and I nearly always thought the guys looked better with their glasses on. It gave me something to think about on occasion but I wondered if I was just really weird.
Unfortunately, despite the confession Ryan had made to me about his glasses probably helping in class, he wasn’t wearing them any more than he ever had. I now knew he was struggling a bit to see in class so I watched with keen interest but he was amazing–he rarely squinted, in part because I was generous with my notes, but he always knew exactly what was going on in class and when called upon, he always knew the correct answer. Still, I was fascinated to think that from where he sat, much of the classroom was had a fuzziness to it and sometimes I liked to imagine what everything looked like to him.
I wanted someone to talk to about all of this but I was much too shy and gutless. I had lots of friends but this seemed slightly odd or like something to be ashamed of–taking joy in someone else’s problem–and besides, how could I bring it up? It just didn’t seem like something to interject into casual conversation so I kept my thoughts to myself and enjoyed it when I could–which was often.
As it was coming around to spring, it meant that a new sports season would be starting up, baseball for Ryan and track for me. Of course this also meant our daily ride home and my cherished opportunity to enjoy Ryan in his glasses was over. But I took some solace in the fact that as I ran by the baseball field every day I could at least see Ryan in his glasses then. I usually got a ride home from one of the girls on the track team but every once in a while Ryan gave me a ride. I still felt an excited twinge when we were in the car, watching him drive and adjust his specs and even though sometimes there was an air of flirtation between us, an intangible, unmentionable but very obvious feeling, neither of us acted on it. He was still with Heather and she was my friend and we just couldn’t cross that line. But I thought about it a lot...
My senior year flew by, as many kids find it does and before I knew it, our graduating class, all 89 of us, were being fitted for caps and gowns. I was co-valedictorian, along with Michael Petrovich, who was headed to an Ivy League college on scholarship. By comparison, I was going to a private school in state and had applied for a few scholarships. But I was proud of myself and had spend weeks trying to figure out what would be a good, short speech to make. Ryan was the class salutatorian which meant he also got to make a speech and a few days before graduation he came to my house.
It was early afternoon and both of my parents were still working when he knocked on the door. I opened it and felt myself smiling suddenly, there he was looking gorgeous in shorts and a t-shirt, a baseball cap obscuring his face and his glasses. He had managed all of high school without ever wearing them in class and I resisted the urge to tell him that his one B may have been an A if he had just put his glasses on–but I did wonder if it would have made a difference.
Ryan had worn his glasses religiously for driving and baseball though, and his sharp vision on the field had paid off, he was going to a state school not far from where I would be on a baseball scholarship. Although he resisted wearing them at school, living so close to one another had its advantages and I had noticed in the past few months that Ryan would occasionally come out of the house with his glasses already on and that he didn’t take them off the minute he pulled in the driveway. I still smiled inwardly when I saw him wearing them although nothing physical had happened with us since the kiss the year before.
I had finally gotten my license the summer before my senior year so our precious rides were over and my glasses-sightings were limited to baseball season and the occasional glimpse of him wearing them around his yard or in the car. I cherished them. So I was thrilled when he was wearing them at my door. I was even more surprised that they looked new–and stronger. His cheeks were cut in behind the glasses and everything behind them was a little smaller.
“Hey,” I said. “What’s up?”
“Nothing. I just need some feedback on my graduation speech.” He stepped inside the house and I got a better look at his glasses. He had new frames too, a cross between oval and rectangle and a lightweight looking silver wire frame. They looked really good and I felt color go to my face.
Either Ryan noticed or was feeling self conscious because he touched the glasses and added “uh, I got new glasses the other day,”.
“They look good,” I said and tried to will the red away from my face. My heart was pounding so hard I thought Ryan might have been able to hear it–why was I so ridiculous about this?
“My prescription is stronger too. Dr. Alder said I might decide to wear these more.” He continued to fiddle with the silver temple while we talked. I wanted to jump on him and tear his clothes off.
It took me a second but I finally put a thought together and managed to speak. “They look really good.” Lord, now I was repeating myself. “ Do you think you will wear them more?”
He looked down. “I dunno... it’s kinda nice to be able to see clearly with them.” He paused, then his tone changed and he looked back up. “But they aren’t that strong, I mean I can still see without them.”
I smiled and nodded. I guess he was trying to convince himself.
“Anyway,” he went on. “ I want to know what you think of my speech.” With that he read it to me; it was great, not too long and not cliched but sincere and warm. He had a good speaking voice and a nice delivery and I told him so.
“Thanks,” he smiled at me. I couldn’t help but notice he had never taken his glasses off and he had stopped fidgeting with them.
“I got another question for you,” he suddenly said. I nodded for him to go on and he studied me for a minute before he spoke. His eyes were such a gorgeous brown, and framed by the silver rims, he looked so sexy. But he sounded serious so I tried to focus on his words and not his face.
“I don’t know if I should wear my glasses at graduation or not.”
Whoa... I wasn’t expecting that. I mean, of course I wanted to scream “WEAR THEM” at him but this was a guy who managed four years of high school without ever wearing his glasses and now he suddenly wanted to know if I thought he should wear them at graduation? What?
The shock must have registered on my face. I was so obvious sometimes. Ryan went on, “I have to read my speech and I just know when I look out at the audience it’s just going to be a bunch of blurry faces. Especially now,” he said, touching his frames and gently pushing them up. “I just don’t want to be squinting up there the whole time.”
“Wear them then,” I surprised myself by speaking so quickly but it was a conversation I had been having in my head for months. “Everyone has already seen you wear glasses, this town lives for baseball season, so it won’t come as any surprise to anyone.”
He looked at me for a long time and seemed to be weighing my words. When he finally spoke, I was even more surprised. “You know Lauren, you are the only person I don’t feel totally stupid wearing glasses in front of. I never have when I’m with you. I mean, my parents don’t count but even then I feel self conscious. But with you it’s different or something.”
I smiled and touched his hand, unsure of how to respond and trying to take in all of his words. We were sitting on my parents couch by then and it certainly wasn’t my imagination that we were moving closer to one another. Against my better judgement, I brought up the last subject I probably should have. “What does Heather think?” I asked quietly.
He grunt-laughed. “She isn’t exactly a big fan of my glasses, let’s just say that.”
“She just says little things, like that she thinks I look so good without them, or if we go to the movies she says, oh, let’s just sit close, you know, things like that. She kept asking if I was going to get contacts too.”
I was trying to stay neutral but part of me was furious with Heather–and for purely jealous reasons. She got to call this gorgeous guy who looked even better with his glasses on her boyfriend and she was denying him the chance to see clearly?
“I have a confession to make too,” Ryan added. Jesus, how many surprises was he full of today?
“Uh, my parents got contacts for me around my birthday last month.”
I was, once again, surprised.
But he went on. “I was kind of excited, you know, because I could tell I was having a harder time seeing clearly, even when I was wearing my old glasses and pitching, the catchers signs weren’t as clear so I kinda knew I needed new glasses. So my parents said they would pay for contacts but when I got them, they were awful.”
“I don’t think I’ve even seen you with contacts,” I really hadn’t. And I didn’t think I wanted to–he just looked to good with glasses to have it ruined.
“You probably haven’t. I wore them like once, to one of Jason’s baseball games. And I looked like I was crying, my eyes wouldn’t quit watering.”
Now I actually felt bad for him. “Oh Ryan, I’m sorry.”
“It’s ok, I mean I can probably wear them for a little while at a time. It’s just that Jason had told me after I got used to them it would be no problem. But I have tried to wear them like 10 times, and ever time I feel like there’s a hair in my eye. I just can’t quit blinking and then they move around and then everything’s blurry and then it’s just a mess.”
I felt like I needed to say something to reassure him.“Well, if it’s of any consolation, I still think you look really really hot with glasses. Especially these new ones.”Hmm, not exactly the subtle reassurance I had in mind but it seemed to do the trick. Before I knew it, Ryan’s mouth was on mine, his tongue was in my mouth and his hands were undoing the buttons on my jeans.
We moved off the couch and into my room where I stripped him and gently slid his glasses off. His eyes lost their sharp focus but he steadied his gaze on me and we did what had been building for years. He was incredible and I knew he was enjoying himself as much as I was. When we finished, he reached over and slipped his glasses back on and I had to fight the urge to do him again.
Ryan and I saw a lot of each other that summer. Heather was away, a counselor at a children’s camp, my parents worked crazy long hours and his parents out of town often, helping his sister Laura plan her wedding so we always had somewhere to go and rarely needed to explain where we had been.
I noticed of the course of that summer that Ryan wore his glasses more and more, though not quite full time. He also worked on wearing his contacts now and then and by the end of the summer he could wear them for an entire baseball game but he took them out as soon as the game was over. I went to many of the games and felt a flutter every time I saw him reach for the eye drops–he admitted to me much later the contacts never did feel any better in his eyes.
Ryan wore his glasses full time in college-his prescription increased twice more before he was drafted by a professional baseball team his senior year and by that time he wore his glasses all but when he was actually playing, opting for the peripheral vision contacts gave him.
He and Heather broke up during their sophomore year of college. I graduated with a science degree and got a job in a medical laboratory. Ryan and I stayed in touch and inevitably every time we saw one another we ended up naked., except when Ryan indulged me and wore his glasses.
Ryan made it as far as AAA baseball before deciding to retire, after ten years of playing. He threw his contacts away the night of his last baseball game.
The baseball organization he had played for offered him a job as a pitching coach and he took but not before he asked me to marry him. He wore his glasses during the wedding, a new rimless pair we picked out together.
I thought he looked incredibly and I wasn’t the only one. Heather had come to the wedding and she admitted that Ryan looked better than ever. I was afraid she would be upset with me, even though it had been years since they had broken up. But I knew it was ok when she hugged me and whispered “you guys always were the perfect match for each other...it just took a while for you to realize it. And he looks amazing with glasses...”. I hugged her even harder. There really was no replacement for a great girlfriend.
Even my mom pulled me aside and commented to me at the reception “I always did think Ryan looked quite good with glasses,”. Yes, he certainly did.