 |
| When I was sixteen I could pack away Taco Bell and still look good in a tennis skirt! |
There was one particular boy on the tennis team, I’ll call
him “Patrick,” who had seemed to be interested in me for a while. I didn’t mind
this, because Patrick was really cute, and I had decided that, if the day came
that he asked me out, I would say yes. Well, the day did come, and I agreed to
go on a date with Patrick. Patrick was a junior, and I was a senior, but we
were about the same age. (I had skipped a grade in elementary school, so I was
the same age as all of the juniors.) Patrick informed me up front that he
didn’t have a car, which should probably have bothered me, but which, true to
my form as a terrible picker, did not. (Nowadays I would hope that a man
without a car would raise a huge, screaming red flag for me!) But I was sixteen
and stupid, and when Patrick asked me if I could drive on our date I happily
agreed.
Patrick also spent some time before our date talking up the
evening I would experience when I went out with him. He informed me of how he
was going to pay for everything, and of how he had even just deposited money
into his checking account so he would be able to do so. He spoke of us going to
California Pizza Kitchen and a movie, and life seemed grand. Now, if a man
today who asked me on a date told me about how he had deposited money
specifically for the occasion, I would be put off. Also, at the age of 35, I
would maybe prefer to go somewhere other than California Pizza Kitchen on a
first date. It’s not that I think California Pizza Kitchen is bad; it is just
that I think it would be nicer to go somewhere a little more out-of-the-way for
that all-important first date.
Date night rolled around, and I went to pick Patrick up at
his house. I don’t remember where he lived, so it must not have been any place
too awful or scary, or I am sure it would have been seared traumatically into
my memory like an image of Richard Simmons wearing short shorts. I drove us to
the movie theater, and on the way Patrick informed me that he had actually not
gotten a chance to put any money into his checking account, so he would not be
able to pay for the movie—meaning he could not pay for my movie or his movie,
so I would pretty much be paying for both of us. I was disappointed, but, since
we were already out on our date, I agreed to cover the cost of the movies.
Plus, the fact that he was really cute went a long way, and did I mention I was
stupid?
I still remember the movie we went to see: Outbreak, starring Dustin Hoffman and an
Ebola-ridden monkey. I think Patrick held my hand during the movie, and I
happily obliged him. Now, if a man today had just told me I had to pay for the
both of us on the first date, I would probably still go to be polite, but I
would definitely not hold his hand, and I would employ a first date escape
protocol as soon as humanly possible. But, when you are a sixteen year old girl,
holding a cute boy’s hand in a darkened movie theater goes a long way toward
making you forget the unpleasant parts of life!
After the movie ended, we went to the restaurant. We arrived
at the downtown location of California Pizza Kitchen, which I thought was
pretty swanky because I had only ever been to the one at the mall. Once we
ordered, Patrick pulled something out of his wallet, and then informed me that
he would be paying for our dinner with a gift card. Even as a sixteen year old,
I thought that paying for a first date meal with a gift card was tacky, but
what are you gonna do? At least I wasn’t having to pay for both of us! Also,
incidentally, I am lucky that my mom trained me so well, and taught me that I
should always have some ready cash available, even on a first date in which a
boy says he is going to pay. I mean, if I hadn’t had the cash I would have
missed the spectacular cinematic phenomenon that was Outbreak!
Patrick paid for our meal with the gift card, and we left
the restaurant. On the way home I realized I needed to stop for gas. This is
where the story gets really interesting! The trip to the gas station turned
into a veritable parade of inappropriate male suitors. Somehow, and I am not
making this up, once I pulled into the gas station near my house, which was
also near my high school, two cars full of guys with whom I had had various
levels of romantic entanglement pulled in behind me. (In several of these cases
the entanglement was only in the guys’ heads). First out of the lead car was
John, a guy I had dated earlier in the school year who I didn’t discover until
we had been on a couple of dates was behind academically and taking English as
a Second Language classes at school. John also announced to me one day that he
had to wear two beepers (remember, it was 1995) because he was so popular. That
relationship ended one fateful afternoon when he called me as a courtesy to let
me know he had decided to drop out of high school (boy can I pick em!). John
appeared at my car window to say hello.
Then, like a clown car of shame, the hits just kept on
coming. After John was a boy I will just call “R.” R. was about five foot one
and extremely skinny. I had never been on a date with him, but he had sat in
the back of our social studies class, admiring me from afar, and had written my
name on top of the desk so many times that several of my male friends showed me
the legendary piece of furniture one day, which had greatly amused them. Then,
the door of the second car opened, and out popped Eddie. Eddie was a guy who
had been arrested for car theft earlier in the school year, but, due to good
behavior or something, had come back to school a few months later. He had
written me several notes in which he expressed his fervent ardor, by telling me
he “liked the way I carried myself.” I was not to know it at the time, but
later in the school year, in fact on prom night as I was leaving the event, he
would ask me out. In front of his girlfriend.
At about this time, another car pulled up, and out came “S,”
my really good male friend, who also had a giant crush on me. You know how it
can be in these male-female friendships—you are friends with a guy and he wants
it to be more, and you know that he wants it to be more, and he knows you know.
But, because you both know that deep down you are not entirely interested,
neither one of you brings up his feelings, until that one night when it is
really late, and you are really tired and, against your better judgment you let
him kiss you, but then after that neither one of you ever speaks of that kiss
again, but he still goes on liking you and you are still ambivalent. That’s
kind of how it was with S. He smoked like a chimney, and wore copious amounts
of cologne to cover up his habit. The first three members of the Unfortunate Males Parade had already appeared at the driver’s side window of my car to
greet me, and S. popped on over to give his regards. S. was kind of a jealous
type by nature, so even though he and I both knew that nothing was going on
between us, and that, in all likelihood, nothing ever would go on between us,
save for that one ill-fated kiss, he still got jealous if I went out with other
guys, and that night was no exception. He said hello to me in an overly jovial
manner, and just shook his head.
As the parade looked on, I glanced over at Patrick and saw
that he looked a little bit like someone had just told him that he would be
spending the next 24 hours in a small Plexiglas box filled with tarantulas. He peered
down the row of faces, and I looked back at him, embarrassed. I waved awkwardly
at the line of thwarted boys, who all looked a little peeved, wishing I could
tell them that Patrick didn’t even pay for the movie, and that he paid for
dinner with a gift card!
 |
| I attract weirdoes like the Kool-Aid Man attracts ants! |
Looking back, I can’t say that I learned any great lesson
from that night, other than that I attract weirdoes like a spilled glass of
strawberry Kool-Aid attracts ants at a picnic. My greatest question about the
evening was why all of those guys were hanging out together in the first place!
I hope I did not come across in this post as full of myself, or as someone who
thinks that I am just so wonderful and attractive that everyone wants to be
with me. In reality, I know this is not the case. I am just a very friendly
person who will even reach out to those who may not be considered popular, or
cool, or even normal by the rest of society. My friendliness is often
misinterpreted by guys in whom I have no interest, and to whom I was just being
friendly. The result often is, as was the case on that fateful night, a line of
inappropriate suitors waiting in the wings, and few actual viable dating
choices. However, I have simply accepted this status quo as my lot in life, and
realize that, one, day, if I am patient, the right man will probably show up.
Taco Bell image courtesy of http://www.tacobell.com
Kool-Aid Man image courtesy of http://www.brokensidewalk.com
No comments:
Post a Comment