"do you remember the first time?" - pulp

"but you know that we've changed so much since then, oh yeah we've grown"


when i was in junior school i had a thing for a girl named carly halpin [if you've just googled yourself, hi, its been a long time]. at the time i was far too young to know what love was, and probably too young to even know what fancying someone was in any significant way, but my memory of her is that she was really cool and quite pretty [is that the start of a life pattern?]. looking back more recently at an old class photo she seems, to my cynical adult eyes, a fairly unremarkable 11-year-old girl but at the time i was kinda smitten. not in that mawkish-ignorant-impression-of-a-romantic way that would, in my later high-school life, cause me to make a twat of myself repeatedly, but in a vaguer, perhaps truer, way of thinking she was great and wanting to be a better, closer friend with her.

did the following happen in real life or did i dream it? it seems simultaneously so ridiculous and so plausible. perhaps some of it is truth and the rest embellishments. perhaps theres no such thing as truth anyway.
in my memory it was the summer after i left junior school on yet another saturday evening i was sat in with my family - trying really hard to enjoy watching noel's house party (which was pretty new at the time) or something similar - when the phone rang. at this time it was a sound that barely touched my consciousness since it never heralded anyone wanting to speak to me - except that this time my mum shouted that it was for me. still mostly stunned at the fairly alien concept i pressed the receiver to my face - and was promptly nearly deafened by background party noise. amidst the kerfuffle a voice i couldnt be sure i recognised said something like "is it true you fancy carly? do you want to go out with her?" my emotional immaturity - amplified by shock, confusion, disbelief, fear that it was some sort of trick and fear of looking stupid - could think of no appropriate response except to mumble something incoherent, gently put the phone down (in my memory this happens in slow motion - like a really bad horror movie cliche) and walk back to the lounge to continue numbing my brain with tv pretending the whole incident hadnt happened.

the more i try to remember it, the more certain i'm becoming that it really did happen.
i'm pretty certain she has changed as much since then as i have, though i have no idea whether she went on to be something great or just another girl with a croydon facelift, and i have no idea if it was a cruel trick or some genuine offering of an opportunity, and i have no idea if she will ever read this. but

carly, for the record, i'm sorry.