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19 september 2000

worst date number one, part one

Well, can I just say that you guys are the best! I'll be getting to my e-mail before the week is over, promise. Allergy season is really socking it to me this year, and moving didn't help. But such is life

Nonetheless, as promised, this week I will be discussing the worst dates ever. Mostly mine, but a few of you sent some doozies as well. Last year, I actually won tickets to a cool concert for sharing the details of this particular date with a Chicago-area radio station. Not bad, eh? Date a loser, win stuff. At last, a contest where I've got a chance!

Okay, so let's flash back to high school. I'm a sophomore --- a 1980's version sophomore. That means crappy new wave haircut, Members-Only jacket, and acid-wash jeans. I was too tall, had the self-confidence of Quasimodo, and took really dorky classes of my own free will. Math and science, after all, were fun! Stuff exploded sometimes. Rock on!

So I'm fifteen years old, minding my own business in chemistry class. And, being as boys were very busy paying attention to every girl but me, my "does he like me?" radar was definitely off. I was resigned to being a late bloomer (if I was lucky), and spent most of high school getting myself ready for college. Dating wasn't really a priority for me or my close friends, a fact for which I am now thankful. Just one more thing to screw with an impossibly teenaged head. Ich.

Alright, the year progresses. Chemistry is fun, because we get to do lots of neato lab work. Just in case anything goes wrong, however, there's a senior lab assistant available in case we do something stupid. His name is Jim, and he is a quarterback for our state-champion football team. He is not particularly handsome, but is tall, lumpy, and has a large head. What I know of football, I think that qualified him for the job of quarterback. I assumed that he was also somewhat smart, being our esteemed lab assistant.

In the middle of the year, Jim decided that he was going to get a big old crush on me. It wasn't too bad at first. I mean, this was ME we're talking about, and Jim's making eyes at me was only improving my reputation. I was not only a girl, but a desirable one, and a football player thought so. Bite my acid-washed rear end, cute girls!

Interestingly, because my radar was down, everyone else in the school found out about Jim's infatuation long before I did. When you were me, you assumed they were joking

However, Jim started to become a little more proactive in his pursuit. It started with small things...the good beakers, goggles that actually fit my face, and extra pyrotechnics. But then it started to become real live romantic stuff. Like notes on my chair. Flowers to my house. Lots and lots of flowers. Roses to the house. Roses in psychology clases. Roses, roses everywhere. I was like that American Beauty chick! (Only not blonde or naked.)

It really creeped me out.

It also began to raise eyebrows with my mom. Not that she was upset that I was (finally) starting to get a little attention from guys. But I was absolutely not allowed to date until I turned sixteen (another wise decision --- thanks, Mom!) And I was pretty okay with that; to be real honest with you, I didn't feel ready to date even when she did let me. But Jim's attentions were, at best, persistent. In February, he asked me to the senior prom in May, to which I politely declined. Not because Mom wouldn't let me, but because I would have felt weird, all sophomore at the senior prom! Ew!

As spring approached, however, Mom started to relent a little bit. I wasn't after her too much, but I think she was getting tired of all the flowers and wanted to meet my stalk...um... that guy who liked me a whole lot. So she said that I could go on a date with him, as long as he picked me up at the house so she could check him out.

So is it really mean of me to say that I went on my first date more out of curiosity than attraction? "Whoo-hoo, a date!" was about the only thing going through my mind. That, and "what do I do on a date? Ack!"

Something tells me that Jim didn't know the answer to that question, either.