Awkward Stories from My Childhood, Pt. I
When I was in 6th grade, I had a crush on an 8th grader named Sam. I believe I’ve posted what I looked like in the 6th grade, and that was picture day, so just imagine a regular day, and I had the most uncomfortable personality known to man. I basically wore long, light washed denim shorts, Wal-Mart knockoff Birkenstock sandals with my dad’s old athletic socks, and a Texas Tech sweatshirt that was three sizes too big and had a rust stain on it from where I left it outside in the rain on top of a board with a nail sticking out of it, every day. I looked like a feral child.
Anyway, I had a crush on Sam. He was older, had a girlfriend, and you can be more than sure that he was not at all interested in me. He suffered my presence. But I was convinced that he would fall in love with me and we would be married. CONVINCED. In a very creepy way. I journaled about him. I wrote him letters I never gave him. I planned my walking schedule to each class based on where I might see him. I was a creepy, creepy 6th grader.
The fact that Sam did not love me back was heartbreaking to me. I neglected my personal appearance (as if it could be more neglected). I refused to brush my hair. I walked the halls in a coma, drawing on the walls with my finger. I kept my head down, looking at my Birkenstocks wondering what I could do to make Sam love me. I mean, life got weird.
During this time of introspection, I attended a Math and Science Meet for 6th graders. This is laughable to most, because it for sure took me four tries to pass Algebra 099 in college. How I got signed up for this trip, I have no idea. Either way, the trip insured that we would get to eat at either McDonald’s or Pizza Hut. I was (and still am) a fast food guilty pleasurer, so as the prospect of McDonald’s was, quite frankly, too good of a deal to pass up. My friends, who had every right to be on this trip, chose Pizza Hut. Just another in the long line of poor decisions I would make during the course of my young life.
I wore a large coat, more than likely my father’s, and started out to Mickey Dee’s. I’m sure I purchased a Quarter Pounder with Cheese meal (including Dr. Pepper), because that is the only thing I ever get at McDonald’s. I started back, planning to meet my friends at Pizza Hut and eat with them. It was cold. I had on denim shorts and a huge jacket. I had poor posture, which is to say, Quasimodo taught me how to sit in a chair. As I schlumped past the Pizza Hut, readying myself to cross the street, I was oblivious to the compassionate stares of my friends as they surveyed me walking towards Pizza Hut. I was later told that the conversation went something like this:
Meaghan: Oh my gosh. Is that a homeless person?
Jennifer: Oh my gosh.
Terra: Yeah.
Jennifer: Should we give him some food.
Terra: I think he’s got a McDonald’s bag.
Meaghan: Oh yeah. I see it now.
Jennifer: Wait, he’s coming in here.
Erin: Hey guys.
Terra: Holy crap. We thought you were a homeless guy.
Meaghan: We almost gave you pizza.
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This has been installment 1 of “Awkward Stories from My Childhood.”