Let the countdown to the crappiest of holidays begin...
If you've been to a CVS or such lately, undoubtedly your senses have been assailed by the merciless merchandising march of February 14, otherwise known as Valentine's Day. For many singles, this brings a sense of bitterness and despair. Lucky for you, I don't roll that way. Stop laughing. No, I'm in a storytelling mood, so let me tell you about my Worst. Valentine's. Ever.
Travel back in time with me, if you will, to the winter of 1997. (Sweet Christ, that was ten years ago. I may need a moment.) It was a different world. The iPod was just a glimmer in Steve Jobs' eye. Bill Clinton ruled America with an iron fist and a soggy cigar. Justin Timberlake had not yet brought sexy back. As for me, I was a scrawny, clean-shaven high school freshman. I was also involved in my first relationship, assuming you don't count my fifth-grade rendezvous with Stephanie. Considering that I leaned in for my first kiss at the class picnic, only to have her laugh in my face and run off to tell the rest of the class about it, I'd say you wouldn't count it. But that's neither here nor there.
My first girlfriend was Cindy. The first thing that comes to mind when I think of her was her height - or rather, her lack thereof. She was 4'9", and although I had a little bit of growing left to do, I was pretty close to six feet tall. We made quite the couple, as you can imagine. I was pretty naive and inexperienced, so of course I went overboard right away. We met at a Sadie Hawkins Dance at her school, after my date had spent most of the night ignoring me (a friend had set me up with said date). We danced at the end of the night, and the very next day, she had gotten my number from a shared acquaintance and called me. By the end of the week, we were "going out", and in no time at all, I was convinced that I was in love with this girl and that we would be together forever. We talked on the phone for hours a night, and in one particularly fool-headed instance, I called her at 3 A.M. She had assured me that she'd been staying up that late (it was Christmas break), so of course on the night that I called, she had fallen asleep early and all that I had accomplished was scaring the holy bejeezus out of her emphysematic grandmother. Nice one, Kev. But in my mind, life was good.
Unfortunately, in the Pantheon of Crummy Girlfriends, Cindy was the archetype for the One-Sided Argument Girlfriend. We'd be chatting away on the phone, and suddenly I'd say something that was completely innocuous...or was it? Before I knew it, she'd be indignant, and I would be apologizing profusely without even knowing what the hell had happened. So why was I apologizing? Well, I "loved" her and didn't want to lose her over a random assertion that a certain celebrity was attractive, which obviously meant that my girlfriend was ugly, or whatever the specific crisis may have been. I didn't have a ready surplus of self esteem, it would seem.
Still, the good times outweighed the bad, and we charged onward in coupled bliss for...oh, all of two months. Shortly after the New Year, Cindy started acting evasive and standoffish. But I shrugged it off, until one fateful phone conversation. I was babbling on about plans for Valentine's Day (which was still over a month away, mind you), and she started dropping none-too-subtle hints about how I shouldn't go to too much trouble. In one of my more brilliant moments, I said, mostly kidding, "Why? You're not going to dump me, are you?" At least that allowed her to cut to the chase. So little fourteen-year-old Kevin was devastated and lonely and confused...for all of three weeks, until we got back together. Just in time for Valentine's Day, as luck would have it, and by extension, the Valentine's Day semi-formal dance at her high school.
We were a stunning pair, Cindy in her wine-colored velour mini-dress and yours truly in crimson button-down shirt with black pants and matching black clip-on tie. But all was not well. There was a photographer there to take professional pictures of the happy couples, and I thought this was a fantastic idea. I was ever the romantic, and I wanted a sharp, classy photo to show off to my friends. Cindy, however, was fiercely self-conscious, and refused. But I persisted, and she...continued to refuse. Finally, in a moment of frustration, I said one of the stupidest things I have ever said to a girl in my long and storied history of saying things to girls:
"I don't even know why I'm getting so upset about this. After all, I was thinking about dumping you earlier this week."
Clap. Clap. Clap. Bra-VO.
Why, WHY would I say such a thing? It was true, there's no denying that. Sadly, I had recently had my first encounter with another phenomenon of the dating world, the Taken Factor. That's when you notice that girls who previously had no earthly interest in you suddenly seem accessible, now that you yourself are no longer on the market. In hindsight, this was probably not entirely the case. But lil' Kev was just convinced that he could have his pick of any girl he desired, if not for that pesky girlfriend. After all, she'd already broken my heart once, and I should have a chance to get even, right?
Back at the dance, I realized how screwed I truly was as soon as those ill-chosen words dribbled out of my mouth. I immediately switched over to damage control, to no avail. Considering that my best argument was, "I said 'was going to'! I changed my mind, you know, because I really do love you!", I likely shouldn't have bothered. Predictably, it made for an awkward couple of hours, and an exceptionally awkward drive home after my dad came to pick us up. Needless to say, Kevin and Cindy 2: Electric Boogaloo ended that night. We stayed in touch for a while, and even briefly reunited over the summer, but as I type this, I have no idea what ever happened to her.
It's also worth noting that all of the options that I assumed were available to me while I was still dating Cindy never materialized once I was single again.
So, anyone else have a V-Day horror story they want to share?
Travel back in time with me, if you will, to the winter of 1997. (Sweet Christ, that was ten years ago. I may need a moment.) It was a different world. The iPod was just a glimmer in Steve Jobs' eye. Bill Clinton ruled America with an iron fist and a soggy cigar. Justin Timberlake had not yet brought sexy back. As for me, I was a scrawny, clean-shaven high school freshman. I was also involved in my first relationship, assuming you don't count my fifth-grade rendezvous with Stephanie. Considering that I leaned in for my first kiss at the class picnic, only to have her laugh in my face and run off to tell the rest of the class about it, I'd say you wouldn't count it. But that's neither here nor there.
My first girlfriend was Cindy. The first thing that comes to mind when I think of her was her height - or rather, her lack thereof. She was 4'9", and although I had a little bit of growing left to do, I was pretty close to six feet tall. We made quite the couple, as you can imagine. I was pretty naive and inexperienced, so of course I went overboard right away. We met at a Sadie Hawkins Dance at her school, after my date had spent most of the night ignoring me (a friend had set me up with said date). We danced at the end of the night, and the very next day, she had gotten my number from a shared acquaintance and called me. By the end of the week, we were "going out", and in no time at all, I was convinced that I was in love with this girl and that we would be together forever. We talked on the phone for hours a night, and in one particularly fool-headed instance, I called her at 3 A.M. She had assured me that she'd been staying up that late (it was Christmas break), so of course on the night that I called, she had fallen asleep early and all that I had accomplished was scaring the holy bejeezus out of her emphysematic grandmother. Nice one, Kev. But in my mind, life was good.
Unfortunately, in the Pantheon of Crummy Girlfriends, Cindy was the archetype for the One-Sided Argument Girlfriend. We'd be chatting away on the phone, and suddenly I'd say something that was completely innocuous...or was it? Before I knew it, she'd be indignant, and I would be apologizing profusely without even knowing what the hell had happened. So why was I apologizing? Well, I "loved" her and didn't want to lose her over a random assertion that a certain celebrity was attractive, which obviously meant that my girlfriend was ugly, or whatever the specific crisis may have been. I didn't have a ready surplus of self esteem, it would seem.
Still, the good times outweighed the bad, and we charged onward in coupled bliss for...oh, all of two months. Shortly after the New Year, Cindy started acting evasive and standoffish. But I shrugged it off, until one fateful phone conversation. I was babbling on about plans for Valentine's Day (which was still over a month away, mind you), and she started dropping none-too-subtle hints about how I shouldn't go to too much trouble. In one of my more brilliant moments, I said, mostly kidding, "Why? You're not going to dump me, are you?" At least that allowed her to cut to the chase. So little fourteen-year-old Kevin was devastated and lonely and confused...for all of three weeks, until we got back together. Just in time for Valentine's Day, as luck would have it, and by extension, the Valentine's Day semi-formal dance at her high school.
We were a stunning pair, Cindy in her wine-colored velour mini-dress and yours truly in crimson button-down shirt with black pants and matching black clip-on tie. But all was not well. There was a photographer there to take professional pictures of the happy couples, and I thought this was a fantastic idea. I was ever the romantic, and I wanted a sharp, classy photo to show off to my friends. Cindy, however, was fiercely self-conscious, and refused. But I persisted, and she...continued to refuse. Finally, in a moment of frustration, I said one of the stupidest things I have ever said to a girl in my long and storied history of saying things to girls:
"I don't even know why I'm getting so upset about this. After all, I was thinking about dumping you earlier this week."
Clap. Clap. Clap. Bra-VO.
Why, WHY would I say such a thing? It was true, there's no denying that. Sadly, I had recently had my first encounter with another phenomenon of the dating world, the Taken Factor. That's when you notice that girls who previously had no earthly interest in you suddenly seem accessible, now that you yourself are no longer on the market. In hindsight, this was probably not entirely the case. But lil' Kev was just convinced that he could have his pick of any girl he desired, if not for that pesky girlfriend. After all, she'd already broken my heart once, and I should have a chance to get even, right?
Back at the dance, I realized how screwed I truly was as soon as those ill-chosen words dribbled out of my mouth. I immediately switched over to damage control, to no avail. Considering that my best argument was, "I said 'was going to'! I changed my mind, you know, because I really do love you!", I likely shouldn't have bothered. Predictably, it made for an awkward couple of hours, and an exceptionally awkward drive home after my dad came to pick us up. Needless to say, Kevin and Cindy 2: Electric Boogaloo ended that night. We stayed in touch for a while, and even briefly reunited over the summer, but as I type this, I have no idea what ever happened to her.
It's also worth noting that all of the options that I assumed were available to me while I was still dating Cindy never materialized once I was single again.
So, anyone else have a V-Day horror story they want to share?