Monday, April 25, 2011

Oh, Mr. Ronald!

Aside from Anderson Cooper, I try not to like men who exceed the age of 35. It just seems a bit old, but in the case of Mr. Ronald’s very cute receding hairline, I made an exception. He was the brand new and cute theatre teacher my senior year, and as the year opened, I needed to fill my second period with an elective. Obviously, I chose his class, which seemed to also be a breeze in the beginner level. (Easy on the eyes and easy on the books is always a good choice.)

It didn’t take long before I was gossiping with the other girls in the class about how cute Mr. Ronald was. He was married to one of his previous students who was only about five or six years older than we were. So what actually was/is impossible seemed somewhat possible at 18.

He mentioned in class one day while we were doing independent studies that his wife loved Ingrid Michaelson. This prompted a logical response from my friend that went a little something like this:

You love your wife. Your wife loves Ingrid. Laurie loves Ingrid. Therefore you logically love Laurie, too.

This comment was made out loud for everyone to hear. My response was an immediate quick and hard slap to her stomach. On the outside I was mainly mortified, but on the inside I was dying with happiness hoping the illogical logic could actually be true!

Nothing ever happened between me and Mr. Ronald (sadly, but obviously), so there is no need to alert the media. I saw him later after graduation and couldn’t remember why I thought he was such a fine symbol of theatre.

Mr. Ronald was the last teacher I have liked in my repertoire of crushes since age six, but who knows if there will be another teacher along the way in my search for my NJB.

Monday, April 18, 2011

It's The End of Casey As We Know It

As junior year was winding down and my feelings for Casey remained strong, he was in a very solid relationship with a very beautiful, very talented and highly dumb girl. I hated asking how their relationship was. I hated hearing how happy he was. And I especially hated knowing anything too personal about them being together.

I didn’t hate because I was jealous though. (But don’t be fooled, I was jealous.) I hated because Jerry was using my beloved Casey. He was simply a rebound, an insignificant detail that would one day be wiped out of her mind. In the distant future he would affectionately be referred to as, “Oh that boy.” (This part I doubt has happened yet, but it will soon…I am sure of it.) Jerry was also dating Casey because she consciously or unconsciously liked his best friend.

When Casey frequently asked if I liked her, I would squint and never give a straight answer. Often time saying “I don’t know,” or “I guess.” Either way, it was clear I did not have strong positive feelings for her.

As another glorious, hot summer approached, school winded down, and by the beginning of June, Casey and Jerry entered into Splitsville. As soon as facebook alerted me to the extremely exciting news, I took on the role of caring friend and texted Casey my fake condolences.

It was about this time, that both mine and Casey’s true colors shined like the summer morning that he and Jerry broke up on. Adding onto my award winning qualities is Miss. Always-Right. I wear this tiara proudly, even though I should stuff it in my closet where I will never find it again…

After I alluded to the phrase that goes something like, “I told you so,” he did not so sweetly or kindly drop the F-bomb followed closely with a “you.” This was the text message that ended our friendship. Senior year went by with only one conversation admitting we were wrong, but neither of us actually believed in our apologies. Our hug was as fake as Angelina Jolie’s lips look.

So instead of continuing on with my quest for Casey, I have now taken up a new game called “Hide and Duck before Casey sees me in the grocery store where he works and I shop.” (Four years later, I am still a pro at this game.) And I continued, meekly, on the search for my NJB.

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Prom Part 1

Let’s talk a little more about my high school, my pride and joy for four amazing years. (I am not being sarcastic.) BTW Magnet High School was the greatest high school ever, except for one very important factor.

Wonder why Mary and I liked the same boys? My wonderful arts high school was as good as an all girl’s school. The boy to girl ratio was one to four. That doesn’t take into account the number of gay boys that were in each grade (because it’s an arts school). So in conclusion, the number of available boys was minimal.

Now, let’s talk about this four letter word called PROM! Because of the extreme lack of testosterone in the gray pavement hallways of BTW, girls were forced to go dateless or ask dates to this horrific event. Mary went with Richard in 11th grade after I convinced her she would rather attend the dance than go to the A-Day Football game. And I took the sophomore.

The sophomore wore a white dinner jacket with his collar popped. When my father (whose dad owned a suit shop) tried to fix his collar, the sophomore told my dad he was wrong. It was suppose to be popped up. (No it wasn’t.)

Now let’s talk about dancing. While most girls find comfort in touching their behinds to other behinds, I don’t! I feel as if it looks weird and is uncomfortable. The problem with this is that the sophomore didn’t know how to dance any other way besides the whole sandwiched together close dancing.

Clearly this night was just uncomfortable on all counts. Mary was with a boy I liked, and my date and I were on shaky grounds with dance etiquette.

But all of this would have been fine because I didn’t truly like the sophomore; He was my date out of necessity. However, after having an awkward but good time with him and my friends in April, in May he de-friended me on Facebook…rude. (I don't like to be de-friended; I like to de-friend.)

When I inquired about the decrease in my number of friends, he made excuses about how he was moving and he thought it was an easier way to say goodbye…What? Did he think I was an obsessed freak that was incredibly into him?

I most definitely was not obsessed with him, since I was still obsessing over daydreams of Casey converting to be my NJB. After this prom, I had a bad taste in my mouth that would emerge again for the next year.

2007 Prom

Monday, April 4, 2011

Not My NJB, Not Your NMB

Starting that night, Richard and I spoke on AIM on a constant basis. Sometimes it was for a short time, sometimes it was for a long time. Every conversation each night left me smiling and excited for the next conversation we would have.

Most girls would never admit to keeping the conversations, but I most definitely saved them and shared them. As any other normal girl would, I needed to get my friends’ input on what we said. I would either share them through AIM with Carrie and Mary or I would bring them to Carrie’s third period in the library for her to read, and we would discuss.

I enjoyed every moment that involved him, whether it was talking to him, talking about him or thinking about him. All of this was until one of my friends asked him if he liked me.

When Carrie relayed the negative response telling me that I was simply thought of as a friend, I attempted to smile on the phone and pretend to not care. But upon snapping my phone shut, I had the loudest most vocal cry I had ever experienced.

As I repeated over and over to my mother, “Why doesn’t he like me?” it all occurred to me. It was because he, like Casey, had a James and the Giant Peach size crush on Mary. This brought me no comfort, only more tears. I replayed the conversations we had and how many involved Mary. He, like Casey, was using my friendship to get closer to Mary.

It took me awhile to be okay with this again and to be okay with the fact that maybe the two could work out instead end short of a first date like she and Casey did.

Not a long time after, the two went on a date to Green Papaya for dinner, and I cried then too. For prom that year, Richard was her date. By that April, my adoration for him had subsided, and I was excited for the two to possibly date…they never did.

Richard started dating some other girl. He asked me why I didn’t seem happy for him. That’s when I quoted the best phrase to ever leave my pink lips, “I am happy that you are happy.” (No way in the world was I actually happy for him.)

While this may seem like some sob story, Richard was not my NJB, nor was he Mary’s NMB (Nice Methodist Boy). This is what I know: without this massive failure of a crush, I wouldn’t still be on my search, and my grandmother won’t have to sit Shiva because I am with a non-member of the tribe. So I didn’t learn anything, but I escaped exile from my family I guess…