First, let me acknowledge that this post is inspired by my brother's latest. Hilarious. And it got me thinking about how clueless I was over the years about romantic relationships. I mean, really, I'm lucky that Linus didn't mince words in our courtship, otherwise I probably would have thought he was just being nice to me.
So let me start at the beginning. I had a brief crush on one of the boys across the street when I was in preschool, or at least as much as a crush as someone in preschool can have. I don't actually remember the crush part, thankfully. But I do remember that after a discussion with my mom about my unusual blood-type, I did ask his mom what his blood-type was. Very romantic, eh?
In kindergarten, my recesses were spent being chased around the playground by one of the little boys until I could run no longer. And then he would give me a kiss on the cheek. I hated it. I couldn't figure out how to get him to stop. Really, every recess was spent running. Until I unknowingly made a brilliant move. I had afternoon kindergarten, and one morning I was playing at a friend's house. We were playing dress-ups and were allowed to put on makeup, which of course involved lots of red lipstick and clown-like amounts of bright pink blush on my cheeks. Somehow we went to kindergarten without washing off the makeup. Recess came and I went running around the playground as usual, but when I finally stopped running, my little boy thought the better of the kiss. He was leaning in when he suddenly noticed the thick layer of pink stuff on his kissing surface. He grimaced, turned around, and never chased me again. I was elated. I remember thinking, "Well, if I knew that was all it was going to take, I would have come to school with makeup on long ago!"
Word to the wise: when you're in first grade, it is not a good idea to plant a drawing full of pink hearts and the words "I love you" into your crush's cubby hole. Well, not with your name plastered on it, too. Yep, I was that girl. And the poor kid wouldn't even stand next to me ever again the whole year.
I'd say my first real crush started in second grade. It lasted through fifth grade. I remember him well; his family had just started attending our congregation, and he and I were in the same class at school that year too. My brother was on a mission in his native land at the time, so I was a goner. Most importantly, we were great friends and so were our families. I think he had a crush on me too, but we never discussed it. It was perfect. Until another boy moved into the neighborhood in fifth grade, and my perfect crush moved to another state around the same time.
About this other boy who moved in on my perfect crush's territory in fifth grade...I really liked him as a friend. We had a lot of the same friends, and we were in the same classes at school. But I could tell after a while that he liked me, so I made one of those stupid mistakes. I challenged him on it, at the end of fifth grade, while we were walking to math class. I expected him to deny it, of course, but all he did was endeeringly go red and say, "I've never felt this way about anyone before." Yes. That's exactly what the 11-year-old said. It took me a while to respond. In that moment, I was innocently swept off my feet by his honesty, and the eloquence of it. I was not so eloquent in my reply. I couldn't come up with anything to say, so I think what I said was, "Ditto."
It was kind of cute, but I had no idea what to do next. We really only saw each other at school and birthday parties. So we exchanged some notes sometimes. And once I told him in Welsh that I loved him. Yep. Welsh. Because I knew he wouldn't know what it meant, but I would. But really, it didn't occur to me that there was more than this verbal and written exchange that we could participate in. We talked on the phone once in sixth grade, and he asked me if I knew what "going steady" meant. Nope. I didn't. And when I told him as much, and asked him what it meant, he wouldn't tell me. And then the next week or two, he passed me a note at the end of the day that read, if I'm remembering correctly, "Dear Carrie, As much as I like you, but I think we should just be friends." So not eloquent. And the grammar just made it worse somehow. Here's the thing, as big of a crush as I had on him, I thought we were already friends. I don't know if that makes sense, but it did to me at 11. And of course, he wouldn't have anything to do with me for the rest of the year. I'd say it was the first time I really had my heart broken. We were kind of friends again in seventh grade, but by then I was 12. And you can imagine how angry I was when at this new junior high, he started "going steady" with one of the new girls there. A woman scorned and all that.
But I won't give a complete history of all of my crushes from that point on; just the clueless encounters. One of which was in ninth grade, when I gave a boy a tape of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony. To be honest, I'm still not quite sure whether I did that out of friendship or one of those one-week-long crushes that are so prevalent in junior high. Either way, the look on his face when I gave it to him was enough to let me know that this was not a normal gesture. But I had just been so aghast when he had claimed the day before never to have heard the piece before. I had to do something about that. Oh well.
Now to the clueless and the creepy. I never got any presents as creepy as the one my brother just blogged about, but I did get one once that was up there I think. The year I was 13 turning 14, my Sunday School class was taught in part by a 23-24 year-old, single RM (returned missionary) who was living with his parents. As a teacher, he annoyed me to no end. I was probably not an easy student, either, but that's only because I actually paid attention. He actually told us once that we should always go home and study what he taught us because he might teach us "false doctrine". What? I immediately challenged him on this. "Why would you teach us false doctrine? That's ridiculous." Looking back on it, I think what he meant was that he might unknowingly teach something wrong because no one is perfect and that we shouldn't take his authority too seriously. That makes sense. Except that's not what he said. Anyway, long story short, I never let him off the hook for anything in that class. And apparently, while I was excessively annoyed with him, I also got his attention. He stopped teaching that class at some point, and started leading the congregational music. He also started singing in ward choir, which I had been singing in for a couple years already.
So now I was 14, and here was a 24-year-old RM who couldn't stop looking at me in choir practice. And then he kept smiling right at me while leading the music every Sunday. For a while I thought I might just be imagining these attentions. And then my aunt and uncle from a suburb of that great salty city were in town one weekend in February of the year I would turn 15. There he was up there smiling down on me through each song during our meeting. At some point, my aunt leaned her head over and said for my ears only, "Someone certainly has eyes for you." So then I knew that I wasn't imagining things. I don't remember whether I said anything in response to this. I was embarrassed mostly, and trying to figure out whether I should be flattered by his attentions or not.
And then one Sunday after our meeting, he stopped me in the hall and said with that same seemingly innocent smile, "I just wanted to tell you, I think you're the prettiest girl in the ward." Who says that? Well, I mean, what 24-year-old single guy says that to a 14-year-old girl? I had no idea what to think. This may have even been the first thing he ever said to me since he had been my teacher. I couldn't help being a little flattered because, well, he was the first person outside of family to ever say anything like that to me. And I couldn't get away from his smiling face -- it was there every Sacrament Meeting, for at least three songs.
Mother's Day came, and he walked up to me after our meeting and said a line I will never forget, "Happy Potential Mother's Day." I don't care who you are or how old you are, who says that to anyone? I remember thinking that was an odd thing to say, but it wasn't until my 15th birthday that it really hit me how creepy this whole thing was.
A few days before my birthday, this young man's little sister, who was in young women's with me at church, called me saying she was doing a project for young women's and wanted to know what my favorite flower was. I told her tulips (and fortunately, this experience didn't ruin that for me at least). And then on my 15th birthday, the doorbell rang. I answered, and there was this now 25-year-old holding tulips and a card. He didn't come in, just gave them to me and left. And then I opened the card, which read: "These flowers are in honor of your birthday and your beauty." I don't know if I had been granted wisdom with the new age that day, but I immediately showed it to my parents and was assured that yes, indeed, this was creepy. My parents were not happy. That was pretty much the last time he talked to me. He started attending the congregation for singles not long after that. Maybe he was just trying to make up for being the most annoying Sunday School teacher I ever had...maybe. Either way, he has been referred to as Tulip Boy in our home forever more.
Another creep was someone I thought was a friend. We played in a quartet together sometimes. After a gig one Saturday he guilted me into taking him to a girl's choice dance that night because it was his senior year and he had never been to one and his girlfriend was going with a friend instead of taking him. First red flag. I was 16. And now that I think about it, this may have even been my first "date". My only stipulations were that we had to go in a group. We went late because I wanted to go to a broadcast of the prophet speaking to the young women that night first. Anyway, we had a good time at the dance, and afterward, we and the other couple in our group came back to my house for ice cream. When the other couple got up to leave, I assumed of course that my date would be leaving at the same time, so I walked them to the back door. Except when the door closed, my date was still there. I couldn't figure out why he was still there. And he was rambling about nothings, and kept moving closer to me, and my back was up against the stove, so I couldn't move back anymore. I was completely clueless about what he was trying to do. Fortunately, in the moment that he was leaning in, I heard President Hinckley's words of that very night, telling us that any young man who would try to make us do something we were uncomfortable with was not worthy of us. "Aha. He's about to kiss me," I realized, as his eyes were closing. "What do I do?" And without thinking, the words came out of my mouth, "The door is that way." And he, ever so sheepish, mumbled a goodnight as he slinked out the back door. And then he kept trying to sit in front of me in government class and lean his chair back into my space. Ugh.
Ok, this post was a little long. But if you're amused by it, stay tuned for a collegiate account of my clueless encounters of the romantic kind. And they're not just from my undergraduate years! Yes, I know, you should be shocked.
So let me start at the beginning. I had a brief crush on one of the boys across the street when I was in preschool, or at least as much as a crush as someone in preschool can have. I don't actually remember the crush part, thankfully. But I do remember that after a discussion with my mom about my unusual blood-type, I did ask his mom what his blood-type was. Very romantic, eh?
In kindergarten, my recesses were spent being chased around the playground by one of the little boys until I could run no longer. And then he would give me a kiss on the cheek. I hated it. I couldn't figure out how to get him to stop. Really, every recess was spent running. Until I unknowingly made a brilliant move. I had afternoon kindergarten, and one morning I was playing at a friend's house. We were playing dress-ups and were allowed to put on makeup, which of course involved lots of red lipstick and clown-like amounts of bright pink blush on my cheeks. Somehow we went to kindergarten without washing off the makeup. Recess came and I went running around the playground as usual, but when I finally stopped running, my little boy thought the better of the kiss. He was leaning in when he suddenly noticed the thick layer of pink stuff on his kissing surface. He grimaced, turned around, and never chased me again. I was elated. I remember thinking, "Well, if I knew that was all it was going to take, I would have come to school with makeup on long ago!"
Word to the wise: when you're in first grade, it is not a good idea to plant a drawing full of pink hearts and the words "I love you" into your crush's cubby hole. Well, not with your name plastered on it, too. Yep, I was that girl. And the poor kid wouldn't even stand next to me ever again the whole year.
I'd say my first real crush started in second grade. It lasted through fifth grade. I remember him well; his family had just started attending our congregation, and he and I were in the same class at school that year too. My brother was on a mission in his native land at the time, so I was a goner. Most importantly, we were great friends and so were our families. I think he had a crush on me too, but we never discussed it. It was perfect. Until another boy moved into the neighborhood in fifth grade, and my perfect crush moved to another state around the same time.
About this other boy who moved in on my perfect crush's territory in fifth grade...I really liked him as a friend. We had a lot of the same friends, and we were in the same classes at school. But I could tell after a while that he liked me, so I made one of those stupid mistakes. I challenged him on it, at the end of fifth grade, while we were walking to math class. I expected him to deny it, of course, but all he did was endeeringly go red and say, "I've never felt this way about anyone before." Yes. That's exactly what the 11-year-old said. It took me a while to respond. In that moment, I was innocently swept off my feet by his honesty, and the eloquence of it. I was not so eloquent in my reply. I couldn't come up with anything to say, so I think what I said was, "Ditto."
It was kind of cute, but I had no idea what to do next. We really only saw each other at school and birthday parties. So we exchanged some notes sometimes. And once I told him in Welsh that I loved him. Yep. Welsh. Because I knew he wouldn't know what it meant, but I would. But really, it didn't occur to me that there was more than this verbal and written exchange that we could participate in. We talked on the phone once in sixth grade, and he asked me if I knew what "going steady" meant. Nope. I didn't. And when I told him as much, and asked him what it meant, he wouldn't tell me. And then the next week or two, he passed me a note at the end of the day that read, if I'm remembering correctly, "Dear Carrie, As much as I like you, but I think we should just be friends." So not eloquent. And the grammar just made it worse somehow. Here's the thing, as big of a crush as I had on him, I thought we were already friends. I don't know if that makes sense, but it did to me at 11. And of course, he wouldn't have anything to do with me for the rest of the year. I'd say it was the first time I really had my heart broken. We were kind of friends again in seventh grade, but by then I was 12. And you can imagine how angry I was when at this new junior high, he started "going steady" with one of the new girls there. A woman scorned and all that.
But I won't give a complete history of all of my crushes from that point on; just the clueless encounters. One of which was in ninth grade, when I gave a boy a tape of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony. To be honest, I'm still not quite sure whether I did that out of friendship or one of those one-week-long crushes that are so prevalent in junior high. Either way, the look on his face when I gave it to him was enough to let me know that this was not a normal gesture. But I had just been so aghast when he had claimed the day before never to have heard the piece before. I had to do something about that. Oh well.
Now to the clueless and the creepy. I never got any presents as creepy as the one my brother just blogged about, but I did get one once that was up there I think. The year I was 13 turning 14, my Sunday School class was taught in part by a 23-24 year-old, single RM (returned missionary) who was living with his parents. As a teacher, he annoyed me to no end. I was probably not an easy student, either, but that's only because I actually paid attention. He actually told us once that we should always go home and study what he taught us because he might teach us "false doctrine". What? I immediately challenged him on this. "Why would you teach us false doctrine? That's ridiculous." Looking back on it, I think what he meant was that he might unknowingly teach something wrong because no one is perfect and that we shouldn't take his authority too seriously. That makes sense. Except that's not what he said. Anyway, long story short, I never let him off the hook for anything in that class. And apparently, while I was excessively annoyed with him, I also got his attention. He stopped teaching that class at some point, and started leading the congregational music. He also started singing in ward choir, which I had been singing in for a couple years already.
So now I was 14, and here was a 24-year-old RM who couldn't stop looking at me in choir practice. And then he kept smiling right at me while leading the music every Sunday. For a while I thought I might just be imagining these attentions. And then my aunt and uncle from a suburb of that great salty city were in town one weekend in February of the year I would turn 15. There he was up there smiling down on me through each song during our meeting. At some point, my aunt leaned her head over and said for my ears only, "Someone certainly has eyes for you." So then I knew that I wasn't imagining things. I don't remember whether I said anything in response to this. I was embarrassed mostly, and trying to figure out whether I should be flattered by his attentions or not.
And then one Sunday after our meeting, he stopped me in the hall and said with that same seemingly innocent smile, "I just wanted to tell you, I think you're the prettiest girl in the ward." Who says that? Well, I mean, what 24-year-old single guy says that to a 14-year-old girl? I had no idea what to think. This may have even been the first thing he ever said to me since he had been my teacher. I couldn't help being a little flattered because, well, he was the first person outside of family to ever say anything like that to me. And I couldn't get away from his smiling face -- it was there every Sacrament Meeting, for at least three songs.
Mother's Day came, and he walked up to me after our meeting and said a line I will never forget, "Happy Potential Mother's Day." I don't care who you are or how old you are, who says that to anyone? I remember thinking that was an odd thing to say, but it wasn't until my 15th birthday that it really hit me how creepy this whole thing was.
A few days before my birthday, this young man's little sister, who was in young women's with me at church, called me saying she was doing a project for young women's and wanted to know what my favorite flower was. I told her tulips (and fortunately, this experience didn't ruin that for me at least). And then on my 15th birthday, the doorbell rang. I answered, and there was this now 25-year-old holding tulips and a card. He didn't come in, just gave them to me and left. And then I opened the card, which read: "These flowers are in honor of your birthday and your beauty." I don't know if I had been granted wisdom with the new age that day, but I immediately showed it to my parents and was assured that yes, indeed, this was creepy. My parents were not happy. That was pretty much the last time he talked to me. He started attending the congregation for singles not long after that. Maybe he was just trying to make up for being the most annoying Sunday School teacher I ever had...maybe. Either way, he has been referred to as Tulip Boy in our home forever more.
Another creep was someone I thought was a friend. We played in a quartet together sometimes. After a gig one Saturday he guilted me into taking him to a girl's choice dance that night because it was his senior year and he had never been to one and his girlfriend was going with a friend instead of taking him. First red flag. I was 16. And now that I think about it, this may have even been my first "date". My only stipulations were that we had to go in a group. We went late because I wanted to go to a broadcast of the prophet speaking to the young women that night first. Anyway, we had a good time at the dance, and afterward, we and the other couple in our group came back to my house for ice cream. When the other couple got up to leave, I assumed of course that my date would be leaving at the same time, so I walked them to the back door. Except when the door closed, my date was still there. I couldn't figure out why he was still there. And he was rambling about nothings, and kept moving closer to me, and my back was up against the stove, so I couldn't move back anymore. I was completely clueless about what he was trying to do. Fortunately, in the moment that he was leaning in, I heard President Hinckley's words of that very night, telling us that any young man who would try to make us do something we were uncomfortable with was not worthy of us. "Aha. He's about to kiss me," I realized, as his eyes were closing. "What do I do?" And without thinking, the words came out of my mouth, "The door is that way." And he, ever so sheepish, mumbled a goodnight as he slinked out the back door. And then he kept trying to sit in front of me in government class and lean his chair back into my space. Ugh.
Ok, this post was a little long. But if you're amused by it, stay tuned for a collegiate account of my clueless encounters of the romantic kind. And they're not just from my undergraduate years! Yes, I know, you should be shocked.
6 comments:
Life is such a journey, and it is great that we can look back on the emotional traumas with humor and smile at the encounters. How you must feel for your students each day as they are still in the blundering through stage. Mutti
Whoa, RM story... Creepy!
Reference to Tulip Boy: Your grandfather used to say "there are more nuts out than in", referring to the funny farm. Papa
I once sent a song and love letter through the mail to a girl I thought was "The One" in ninth grade.
It turned out she wasn't "The One," and I paid for that blunder through a year of the silent treatment from said sweet young thing.
I love reading about all these romantic misecounters (except Linus, of course). I don't know what that says about me; perhaps I like funny stories about awkward events. Especially tulip boy. I wonder what he was thinking. - Waiting until you were sixteen and even datable? Perhaps he had a vision?
(this is Thora)
I once lost a quasi-girlfriend in high school to an RM. She was 17, he was 23. Talk about creepy! I always wondered what he was thinking. Maybe he was Tulip Boy's friend (or former mission companion). Or maybe the fact that I had never formally committed to her drove her away. Oh well.
ME
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