Stupid Fucking Cupid

Back in the good ol’ schooldays, a boy once tried to flirt with me in the middle of a P.E. lesson. And I’m not going to lie, I totally had a crush on him too; I mean he was the hottest, baddest boy in the entire grade (not just the entire class), and I literally wanted to have his babies! I would watch him from far away, daydreaming about him asking me to prom, secure in the knowledge that he would literally NEVER notice me or consider buying me a can of Coke, much less take me to prom. I mean, I was almost invisible.

But then in a strange twist, and as the fates laughed, rolling their dice, I saw Mr Hotness himself from a distance, one fine P.E. lesson, adjusting his balls and walking, almost in slow motion, towards me. I vaguely remember that we were doing softball or some other sport involving a racket or a bat, and he walked right through it all – with all the balls flying everywhere, like a scene out of The Matrix – and sat next to me. And when I say he sat next to me, I mean if he had sat one inch to the right, he would’ve been literally on my lap.

I immediately broke out in a sweat. I couldn’t look at him so I fixed my gaze firmly on the floor and on my pathetic, chunky white sneakers that made me look like I had clubbed feet. I couldn’t believe that my future husband was literally sat so close next to me, pressing his sweaty leg against my ever-expanding, cookie-loving, adolescent thigh. He turned his face towards my petrified little teenage self (I mean, I could feel the heat emanating from his breath!) and casually said: “Hey Sally, how are you?”

HOW THE FUCK COULD HE BE SO CASUAL ABOUT SAYING HI?!! WAS HE NOT AWARE OF THE BOUNDARIES HE WAS BREAKING? OMG I KNEW THERE WAS A REASON I HAD READ ROMEO AND JULIET AT SUCH A YOUNG AGE! I NEEDED TO BE PREPARED FOR THIS MOMENT! HE WAS LITERALLY BREAKING ALL THE RULES OF NATURE BY TALKING TO ME! MY INVISIBILITY CLOAK OBVIOUSLY WASN’T 100% FOOL-PROOF!

Okay, just so you know, I should’ve been a case-study in psychological journals when it came to the condition of an almost-complete absence of self-esteem at that particular time in my life. So for this guy to acknowledge my presence, never mind talk to me, it felt like the earth was about to implode. I didn’t have butterflies in my stomach; I had blood-thirsty ferrets clawing their way through my insides, desperate to find a way out. I felt the heat rushing to my face, and I think that was probably the only time as a teenager that I thanked God that I was Egyptian and that I was dark enough for him not to realise that he could probably fry an egg on my cheeks.

Nevertheless, as he stared at me, waiting for a response and probably wondering if I was deaf and/or mute, I knew that I would have to muster some bravery as well as a response to his trying yet stimulating question.

“Fine!” I squeaked, like Minnie Mouse on helium.

This didn’t satisfy him, however. He persisted. He asked me something else which, to this day, I cannot remember because I was so shocked that he was still there and was talking to me in full view of everyone in the class, that I instantaneously went into panic mode.

I can’t remember how it happened, or what my thought-pattern was (assuming there was a thought-pattern in the first place), but I remember that I intensely continued to stare at my shoes, right before I shifted my attention to a distant part of the bench that we were both sat on. I pointed my shaky index finger at the furthermost point on the bench and said to him: “You can go over there!” I was effectively telling him to fuck off. Bless him…He didn’t understand what was happening and I never saw his expression, but he literally unpeeled his leg from mine and moved away to the recommended corner and never really spoke to me again.