If I’m going to do Throwback Thursday, I have to do a birthday shout out to one of my favorite ladies in the whole wide world, Danielle. She’s been a good friend since the time we were learning how to read. HAPPY BIRTHDAY! May you look your age this year. 😉 Here’s a cute pic of us from NYE 2005.
It’s been a while since I did a Flashback Friday post, and I wrote this one, and laughed so hard that I couldn’t wait to post it, so we’re going to go with Throwback Thursday. And this kind of also belongs in the book of secrets, but I’m dragging it out because it’s such an old story that it really doesn’t matter anymore (I hope, although I might STILL be grounded for this one).
Today’s story is the infamous co-ed sleepover of sophomore year of high school. Because that’s every parent of a 15-year-old girl’s dream …
(insert Wayne’s World-esque doodly doo, doodly doo, doodly doo)
It’s 2000. I’m 15. And B-O-Y crazy. My math teacher even once told my dad that I needed to stop paying attention to boys and start paying attention in class. I got these crazy crushes that would go from zero to stalker in a heartbeat. I provided hours of entertainment for my friends with all of my romantic misfirings, as well as sheer boredom from hours of droning on and on about the same damn problems with the same damn crush.
I had a couple of boyfriends, but nothing serious. Just a few weeks at a time, a first kiss, and a few really rotton breakup lines, including this classic: “We just don’t have any chemistry. Well, except of course in chemistry class.” Hardy, flipping, har, dude.
I kept track of my ridiculous list of crushes in my trusty MHS agenda book in a column I called “Calee’s weekly hottie list”. This space was usually reserved for the guys I’d never get: football players and wrestlers. One of those fine young gentlemen even offered to take me to homecoming for a mere payment of $50 — what a steal! I didn’t do it … I did have a shred of self-respect. But, good lord I loved wrestlers and football players.
But there was this one boy that I had it bad for pretty much since I was old enough to know that I liked boys. We were in all the smart-kid (read: not cool-kid) classes in elementary school together, and now that we were in high school, we were choir geeks and hung around with the same crowd. He wasn’t always my first-and-foremost crush (cuz I had a lot of them), but he of always there. Flash forward to sophomore year. The gang decided we should have a boy-girl sleepover at HIS house. My mom reluctantly let me go, because my gal pals got permission, and this was a responsible crew.
So we played games or whatever (honestly I don’t remember because I probably was not paying ANY attention to what we were doing), and at 10 or 11 or so my lady-friends were like, “Well, my mom’s going to pick us up now, so bye!”
Wait, what? I thought we were all staying … that was the plan. Nevermind …
This is a good time to mention that none of us had ill intentions for spending the night. We were pretty damn squeaky clean teenagers. If all of us had stayed the night, I’m sure nothing would have happened because we would have been too busy watching Monty Python movies or talking about All State Choir / Band auditions.
So, despite the fact my female friends bailed, I had permission to stay (kind of) so I stayed.
It got to the point where everybody was winding down and picking places to crash. I picked a place on the living room floor.
But then came a stellar line from my crush (might trump the chemistry one) that went something like: “Actually, you should stay in this room away from everybody else. I’ll stay in there with you and keep watch to make sure nobody makes a move on you.”
Yeah … right.
Well, you can pretty much guess what happened next. Keep in mind that we were 15 and 17, so it was all very PG and made-for-TV-movie.
The next morning my mom called to see when to pick me up, and my friend Richard, who had a way with words and timing, loudly said, “DON’T TELL YOUR MOM THAT NO OTHER GIRLS STAYED OVER!!!!!!”
Which lead to the most uncomfortable car ride with my mom to this date (and probably ever).
In case you’re curious what happened with me and that crush, it didn’t really work out and got super awkward and angsty pretty quickly. Awkward teenage angst at its best. Stephanie Meyer should pick up that part of my story and turn me into a sparkly vampire or werewolf or something so I can collect royalties.
Okay. Your turn. Spill it. What’s your most embarrassing / awkward teenage moment? (bonus points if your parents STILL do not know the story)