Prize Inside

A few months ago, I received a message on one of those social networking sites. It was from the brother of a guy with whom I'd gone to high school 30 years ago. That's right, 30 years ago. I had rigged my profile shortly before that, so that when you did a search on my maiden name, I would come up. Apparently, his brother did that search, saw me, and immediately called said guy, who is now an executive chef, and told him not only did he find me on this social networking site, but we also lived in the same city.

I grew up in the midwest, living there until I was 14. It was during this time that I knew the Chef. We met in high school during sophomore year. Once that school year ended, my family then moved to Los Angeles, where I truly grew up, graduated school, got married, had kids. So how unusual was it that he and I now lived in Pittsburgh? The Chef's brother then messaged me again, gave me Chef's phone number and told me to call any time.

I had always rued the fact that I didn't know anyone from my days growing up in the midwest anymore. Even some of my cousins and other family members are complete strangers to me. I called the Chef and we chatted and made plans to get together. I remember him from back then, and he was one of the cute boys in high school, but we didn't date or anything like that. After all, I was only 14 back then! He joined the networking site and I then got to see pictures of him too. He doesn't look the same to me, but folks, it's been 30 years. Who would?

We made plans to get together today and although we've both said we can't wait to catch up, I'm worried that this looks alot like a date. A blind date. Oh sure, we knew each other 30 years ago, but we don't really know each other anymore. Not to mention, we're both single now. We talked about dinner and drinks. He mentioned a party being thrown by a friend of his. These are all date-type activities, people.

I don't know how things are going to go. I'm hoping that I made a new friend, who just happens to be an executive chef. And that, dear readers, is what they call a bonus prize.