Except you should know something about my perception of cupid. Who is Cupid really other than a little naked guy yielding a sharp, painful weapon aimed at your heart?
So, this post will be about a cruel, heartless Valentine.
It was my sophomore year. I’d had a crush on this guy from the beginning of the school year (that’s August to February) Count ‘em, 6 months. A lifetime in my teen years. And the guy was was just so freakin’ cool.
Now, don’t you for one second think I was that girl who guys ever actually liked. I was weird, and awkward and scowled all the time. So while the hallways were filled with giggling girls carrying big heart-shaped boxes, balloons, stuffed animals that I wanted to kick across the dirty hallways, I carried nothing. Not a thing. Year after year, I came home empty-handed, a fact always underscored by my mother who wondered don’t boys get things for girls anymore the way they did when your sister was in high school and junior high? My god, the way she would come home, her arms full, hardly able to carry everything she got on Valentine’s!
See why I scowled all the time?
Anyway, my sophomore year? That was the year I actually had a Valentine. I’d started “going out” with the above mentioned skater guy about two weeks prior to Valentine’s Day. Except . . . the more I got to know him, the more I realized I liked the idea of him, the coolness he kind of portrayed. Heck, I shamefully admit, I may have just really liked his hair. Anyway, I didn’t really like him, know what I mean? And, I don’t really think he liked me either, because quite frankly, I was weird and hardly spoke about anything other than the bands I liked and my what my favorite songs were. And each day it seemed I liked him less and less, so by the time Valentine’s came around, I was in deep dislike. And with all the hearts, and the gushing, and the giggling, and all around LOVE in the air, I really thought I might be sick to my stomach if I carried on with the shenanigans of walking to class together any longer.
So I did the unthinkable. The cruel. The heartless. I snatched Cupid’s little arrow and jabbed it into his heart, quick and dirty, as Cupid snickered behind me.
That’s right. Right when this guy gave me a card and a rose, I handed him a cd (Metallica if I recall correctly) and said, “Here. And I think we should break up.”
I know. Terrible, right? Absolutely terrible. And I don’t know how this great crush suddenly turned into that weird please don’t stand too close to me or talk to me kind of feeling, but it did. I thought to myself afterward, “Would it really have killed you to wait one more day?” Especially when he said, “Thanks. Thanks for the crappiest Valentine’s Day ever.” But hey, at least he got a cd. And, honestly, I don’t think he was that broken hearted. I mean, he was back with his ex-girlfriend the following week, so . . . you know teenage love.
Anyway, that’s my teen Valentine’s Day story. Do you have any terrible ones to share? Please, do!