The worst three words I have ever read at least 27 times during my 7th grade year: Be right back, abbreviated to BRB. This was the way my conversations with Will Martin ended each of the 27 times I IM'ed him in 7th grade. I was never the one to type the harsh words to him. Rather, five minutes into our chats he would always tell me he would be right back…he was never right back, he was never back. It took me until time 22 to realize this. The stud was most likely still at his computer, probably talking to his girl friend.
But this story isn’t about the time when I was embarrassed, or heartbroken, or confused or pathetic. This story is about the nicest thing Will (or for that matter any of my crushes) ever did for me.
Remember my sixth grade dance? Flash back to the same place. It was a year later at the 7th grade Valentine’s dance. Two of my girl friends accompanied me; the rest decided they would rather not humiliate themselves more by showing up to the dance. My dress this time was light pink, form-fitting, with a shiny pink underneath slip that appeared at the bottom. My shoes, well, I wasn’t into shoe fashion back then, so that was still a pretty hideous portion of my otherwise beautiful apparel.
The dance started just as my first dance had started. I asked Will to dance with me during the second slow dance of the night. This time I was not given a straight forward, “No.” Instead he said, “Sure, but later.” This response resembled what I had termed as the BRB, saying one thing but not actually following through with it. Still I waited and persisted. I danced with the one weird Jewish boy in my grade who spit on me as he talked. I danced with his best friend, who was just as weird, if not weirder. (Not surprising, the Jewish boy still spits on me when he talks to me. Also not surprising, the weird friend is amazingly handsome with a 4.0 GPA in college and no longer weird…)
I waited and waited. The last slow dance was announced. Part of me felt rejected AGAIN, but most of me felt like I should give it one more shot. I approached, took three steps and I saw Mrs. Martin appear to my left picking up Will. My chance was gone. As I turned away downtrodden with another failed attempt at love, my shoulder was tapped.
It could have been a scene from a movie. It was Will asking to have the last dance with me. As the words “Strawberry wine…first taste of love, bitter sweet,” played in the background, I could only think of one thing. If I died right then, my world would have been complete. I, captain of the mathletes, was dancing with the most popular boy in the grade.
Although our AIM conversations still ended in BRB and he still gave me no attention in honors English, I will always remember that in those three minutes and 53 seconds, I felt like the most beautiful girl at the dance and that anything was possible.
I would like to say this was a happy ending for Will and me, but since I had not done anything to completely humiliate myself, the hunt for him did not end there.