Why do I sit here minutes after I'm allowed to leave just to read diaries and write entries?

Because I'm an addict, thank you.

I do it so I can continue my streak of double-digit pageviews (16 days and counting). Ah, for those times when I was consistently in the 20s and 30s; now, I keep the streak alive with a mere 10 on Saturday.

I do it so I can continue my streak of peeking into others' lives, and to keep up with the happenings of those in Diaryland I call friends, or at least friends of friends or roommates of friends.

So shopping at Banana Republic on Sunday back down in My Hometown (or the one that borders it), Casey's looking at belts and asking for my opinion. As I listen to her, I hear, softly at first, "Is that Dan?" I look up searching for the voice and hear it again, louder: "Is that Dan?"

It's Susan, the mother of High School Heather. She (Susan) was always a little flaky, a little "out to lunch" as Jaime said today in our IMing. Susan was all set to make it a "Hello, how are you?" four-line dialogue but then I asked how everything was going with the family as she was about to turn away, thereby turning an already akward meeting into a really uncomfortable one. Had I just let it go at "Fine thanks, and you? Well, good luck shopping..." then I would've had more defense to Casey's "Thanks for introducing me" sarcasm later, when I explained who she was. Of course, Casey just kept on sorting through the belts and I wasn't sure if she was still beside me or not, so I didn't know if she was interested. Honestly, it did cross my mind, but then I was hit with the thought of not wanting to be "that guy," or be perceived as "that guy," the one who jumps at the opportunity to introduce is new and (much) better girlfriend to an immediate family member of the ex-girlfriend who dumped him after high school. The truth is, I do want to be that guy. And I don't. I'm a confused guy.

So in response to my question of how everything was going (I think I phrased it, "How's everything with your crew?" -- lame, I know), Susan replied, "Well, we're planning a wedding for my son." Yet, I managed to stop my heart for a beat in between "we're planning a wedding" and "my son." It didn't add to the confusion, but easily could have: her son's name (Sean) is the same as Heather's boyfriend's.

I told Jaime (a high school friend familiar with the background) of the meeting, and we joked about how Heather and Sean are still merely dating. They've been together for eight years this month (maybe even today, for all I know, since she decided to hook up with him first, then tell me a month later, and that came in late October 1994) and yet they're still just roommates. Sean graduated two years before Heather, fulfilled his four-year military requirement in payment for ROTC's scholarship, and in my mind, that means a two-year headstart on Building A Future. Part of me sits back and smirks to myself at the thought that, for all I know, I'm so much closer to marriage than they are and may even beat them to the announcement.

Jaime had to go and type, "you don't know the whole story," leading me to believe that there was a story, but she said there wasn't, but if there was, she wouldn't know it and if there was, only Brian would. Eight years -- there's probably a story. I don't care that much -- honestly, I don't -- unless I can get a chuckle out of it.

What I really get out of all of this is that I am happy with who I've become and who I'm with, and I can look back on high school as a good time during which I had a lot of fun and enjoyed all my friends. The bottom line, though, is that I'm a more mature person, and a better one, than I was then. I was pissed and upset when Heather and I broke up, and it took me a few years to figure out if I was over her. I realized I was when I started to try to figure out why I cared, because I don't think either of us came out of college the way we went in, and had we met the summer after graduation, we wouldn't have been interested in one another.

At least I'm secure in the knowledge that we'll never run into one another at the hometown football game. I have a better chance of running into Garth Brooks.