Wednesday, November 10, 2010

To Make Out or Foot Massage

Question: I'm not sure why I'm asking you because it seems like you're high school years were more awkward than mine. You started telling me about your high school dance and left me hanging. What's the deal to dealing?!

Answer: Me, more awkward? It's true. I'm sorry. But you need the full scope. So sit back, relax, and don't drink all my boxed wine. Here we go.....

I'm pretty sure there is a picture of the boy, Germany,  but I'm also pretty sure I can't post it. Not yet. Not without a few lawyers, my parents written and notarized approval, plus a ski house in Switzerland with an unending supply of almond cookies so I can hide out for a few years. Just look at this map and pretend it's a boy.

Can You Regret So Soonly?
Yes, yes you can. And it's OK. I inadvertently invited Germany, to my high school winter dance, 'The Snowball' and within moments of him stepping into my parent's hallway the evening of the dance, I had a feeling of regret. Normally I would think it's because I snuck candy from the 2 month old Halloween stash, but no, this was deep regret.

Germany just looked overly excited. And that should be a 'cool' feeling for a high schooler. Especially for a girl so naive and beyond inexperienced in the world of boys. But not me. I was a-ok with boys, boogers, cooties and everything else that required imaginary doctor's shots staying in one mindset. Gross and no thanks. I wanted to make out with men/boys that were unattainable. So before I get more awkward, (is that possible?) get comfy with my list of dream boats.

Amy's List of Dream Boats
**In no particular order in case any of them 'happen' to see this list. I believe this is listed in chronological order starting at my first crush, age 4. Do I still have a shot with some? Probably, but maybe that's not something to gloat about.**

1. Gunther Gebel Williams: My first crush and I still adore/love/dream about him. Unfortunately, deceased. Kinda kills the mojo. --  Let me explain my undying love. He is a LION TAMER. Ok boys? Notta one person I've ever dated could tame me, OR a LION. I mean, most boys I dated were allergic to cats. Also, Gunther, wore outfits like Liberace, but again, please refer to his job. LION TAMER. And he's got 12 pack abs, and he tames lions. Granted, I was 4 years old when I first saw him, I promise, once I get my hands on a poster, I'm still going to frame it and hang it in my home. Trust this.

2. David Copperfield: And this is exactly the image I had in my head from kindergarten till about (cough) 8th grade. Forget rock stars, I wanted to kiss a man who was MAGICAL. There is a bit of a pattern (for all therapists that want to ring me up and enroll me for an upcoming thesis). The biggest selling point about David is that he is from my hometown of Metuchen, NJ. Which in my young, devoted mind, meant there was a chance we could date and go home to our parents after eating pizza.
Also, my father apparently met him at a company meeting. I walked around with the picture for a year convincing friends that David levitated and turned my father sideways. I practically slept with that polaroid under my pillow. Little did I realize, it was just my dad standing next to a sideways cardboard cut-out of David. Double sigh.

3. Bruce Jenner: This is not the poster I had hanging in my room, but you get the point. Bruce Jenner was dreamy. My cousins and I went to a carnival (which was a treat in itself because this meant us having fun, not doing homework, or anything holy related, AND eating fried dough). We played a ring toss game and instead of a goldfish that would die hours later, I got a Bruce Jenner poster. It's him in tight black jeans, a black t-shirt, standing in the jungle (totally realistic) next to a black motorcycle.
D R E A M Y. I had no idea he was an athlete until years later. From the ages 9-12, Bruce was just a blonde haired hottie that lived in a forest with a really cool bike, and somehow always kept his jeans clean.

And The Awkward Dance Begins
So there you go. There is a longer list, but I don't think you're ready for that. And honestly, after looking at this list, neither am I. Did Germany really have a chance the night of 'The Snowball'?

A few of us gathered at my parent's house for pictures. I ogled at my friend, Stephanie's awesome choker. It seemed badass and was almost a government issued necklace back in 1993. The only bad-ass looking thing on me was the fact that I was still addicted to shaving my eyebrows and both of them looked like they were crawling off either side of my face.

I have 2 very close friends in this picture and I might just lose them after a few more posts. 
Like most high schoolers had keggers whenever their parents were out of town--I did not. Instead, like a chubby Italian girl, I had Christmas brunch parties. My parents trained me to socialize like a 45 yr. old. I'm in the middle, in red,
and if you look real close, you can see the runaway eyebrows. 

Germany, Stephanie, and the rest of the gang with amazing eyebrows took photos in front of my parent's fireplace. I did my best posing in my maroon sofa dress  while also awkwardly ducking Germany's hand on waist. Again, you'd think I would be excited about a guy inching his way closer, in fact, I'm even cheering for myself right now, but no. That knot in my stomach was the size of a stale mall pretzel covered in honey mustard.

Mom's 70s Leather Jacket Is Like A Body Condom
My parents thought nothing would complete my look better than my mom's cream leather Carmen Sandiego trench. Honestly, if I could get my hands on that jacket now I'd wear it through the summer months because it's retro cool. But back in high school = no thanks. 

I begrudgingly put it on and once in the sleek brown Ford Taurus, it became a lifesaver. 
No, this isn't my brown Ford Taurus. But it's pretty close. Such a resemblance to my recent purchase of my Hyundai Sonata, don't you think? It's like life keeps hitting me full circle.
Reference back to God vs. Amy wishin' n' hopin':
God 889 Amy 2.

Mom's 70s Leather Jacket Is The Body Condom I Needed
On the way to the dance, Germany and I sat in the back seat. Score? No! His damn pinkie kept inching over to my side trying to touch my left hand. It was almost as annoying as my sister pushing her barbie doll shoes and coloring books on my side of the seat whenever we went on long trips. And my sister, just like Germany, did it on purpose. 

If I had a special power at that point I would've chosen to become invisible, and if that was asking too much, I was hoping that staring at the sleeves of my mother's Carmen Sandiego jacket would've gotten the leather fibers to slowly extend past my wrists to cover my hands and fingers--far away and protected from boy cooties.

Since neither special power would come to my rescue I awkwardly (are you surprised at this point?) became a very concerned back seat driver validating my father's street moves in making sure we got to the high school. 

"Oh dad, you're right, this left turn is better than going down Main Street and hitting two additional lights. Smart move."

Pretty rockin' right? I think a homeless person is sporting this, nowadays.
But seriously, if I pass the new owner, it'll be more like,
"Are you kidding me buddy?  You have my mom's jackets and her slender legs. I can't compete. I GIVE UP!"

Mom's 70s Leather Jacket Was Forced Into Coat Check
If you're having a high school dance in the school cafeteria, what better way to 'class it up' than by having a coat check in the hallway? The $15 per ticket didn't just go to the Doritos, Pretzel Stix and DJ. This 'Snowball' went all out to make sure students and their dates felt as if they were attending one of the nearby high schools. Better yet, 'hire' underclassmen to check your coats and as you're walking away, laugh at your maroon sofa dress and stalker date. Ok, ok, I'm obsessing, but cackling from a 14 yr. old is hard to ignore.

Doritos Are Worth The Overdose But My Tootsies Hurt
The dance was fun, I hooked arms with my two best friends and made sure to never leave their sides. There were about three slow dances and to reassure my parents, I kept the holy spirit and all of his closest friends in between Germany and myself. The distance between us was about the length of a golf club, and with my arms outstretched and locked-- I burned the calories from my doritos overdose to make sure Germany couldn't inch closer.

No, this isn't how I danced. This is me and one of my sub-in dreamboats. My cartoon hair seems much more manageable than my real life hair. 

This is exactly how I dance.  And I wonder why I don't get so many wedding invites in the mail these days.

But My Tootsies Hurt! 
Back to the reason why I started this post in the first place. I was complaining about my toes hurting from my new heels as I stood with my friends for almost the entire 3 hours of the dance. Germany, being the appropriate stalker date, suggested,"Amy, if you sit in the backseat when your dad drives me home, I can massage your feet."

Did you read that clearly? Let me write it out for you again.

"Amy, if you sit in the backseat when your dad drives me home, I can massage your feet."

PANIC. I'm not good at lying, any one of my closest can tell you that. Whatever I'm feeling is written all over my face. How Germany could've missed my fear and shock is somewhat surprising. The lighting in the cafeteria wasn't exactly a Hollywood set, so I'll give him that excuse as a pass. BUT WANTING TO MASSAGE MY FEET? I find dating men nowadays is awkward enough with new quirks (stay tuned), eating habits (I'm Italian, don't get me started), and unfortunately my circle circle dot dot cootie shots have expired. But rubbing feet in high school? RUBBING FEET IN HIGH SCHOOL?

I would say this was an epic fail for Germany. But he persisted and years later reared his head while I was in college causing me ulcers over a Valentine's Day weekend. If I had only known this back in high school I might've had a Mexican family adopt me as I studied abroad.

Needless to say the 30 minute drive home from the dance to Germany's house was more silent than the night before Christmas. My father kept eyeballing me in the front seat as I focused on listening to Light F.M. 

Wherever you are Germany, I wish you the best. I admit, I wanted to keep dating you because you offered to fix me up a while volkswagen beetle. It was sweet but I just couldn't swap spit. (Sorry Dad, but aren't you glad I didn't take up the offer for a free car!?).

By the way: future dates, please, no feet. 

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