I still remember fifth grade vividly, as I spent 5 years prior looking forward to the day that my classmates and I would run the school. That first day I stepped on campus, bright red backpack in hand and Reebok’s laced-up tight, ready to conquer the world. I was a bad mamma jamma. Not only would I claim my right to the throne of “Big Man on Campus,” but also there was a newfound confidence about me because I had decided this was the year that I would finally leave the rest of those single losers behind. This was the year…
[Insert dramatic Star Wars-esque music mixed with 80s Superman-esque music]
THAT I WOULD GET A GIRLFRIEND!
That’s right. A child no more, William Brandon Howard was about to be crowned a man. Did it matter I had a gap between the middle of my teeth that a conductor could run a train through?
NO!
Did it matter that my glasses were so thick I that required the assistance of three men to lift them to my nose each morning?
NO!
Did it matter that it would be three more years before I would finally locate my first chest hair?
A hearty HECK NO!
When you have the sexy, there ain’t anything that can stop it, my friend, and Lord knows, I had the sexy.
I was a man on a mission and a rebel with a cause. Every morning I would get up, spend 30 minutes parting my hair perfectly on the left side and applying ample amounts of hairspray while I plotted my plan of attack. The object of my affection would soon be mine and Valentine’s Day would be the perfect opportunity.
My target’s name? Carrie Bourke.
Her golden blonde, bobbed hair would flow in the wind during recess, and every word she spoke sounded like sweet, sweet honey on the ears. Beautiful did not even begin to describe her, and Cupid’s arrow was lodged square in my tuckus.
It didn’t matter that Lance, Scott, Dustin, and all the other stupid fifth-grade jocks were vying for her attention. Carrie deserved nothing but the best, and I was the best. The night of February 13th, my dad took me to Eckerd’s Pharmacy where I wisely selected the Batman Valentine’s cards. As soon as I got home, I dedicated a card to each of my classmates, provided my signature, and slid a couple of those nasty, chalk-like hearts into the envelope. I saved Carrie’s for last. In hers, I put FIVE chalky candy hearts and on her card—and her card only—I wrote a message.
Right next to Batman proclaiming, “You’re SUPER, Valentine!” I slowly transcribed the words that I predicted would change life as I knew it forever:
“Dear Carrie…would you go out with me? Circle one: Yes…No…Maybe…”
My heart skipped a few beats as I inserted the card in its envelope, licked the edges, and firmly sealed it. The next morning I went through my typical routine, and as Dad drove me to school, I envisioned spending countless nights talking to Carrie on the phone. I couldn’t wait for the extravagant vacations together—perhaps sharing sparkling cider in the gondolas of Sicily and cuddling up by the fire in our cozy log cabin in the Alps. All my dreams were coming true.
In second period, Mrs. Evans had us pass out our Valentines. I smoothly dropped Carrie’s on her desk when she wasn’t looking. As soon as I returned to my seat, time began to move so…incredibly…slowly. Seconds felt like minutes. Minutes felt like hours.
At the end of second period, Carrie’s friend Stacy came to my desk, giggled, and handed me the Valentine’s Day card. I slowly opened it, thrilled to start an exciting, new life with my girlfriend. Much to my dismay, “No” was firmly circled. My heart sank. With it was a note that said,
“Thank you. You’re nice. I’ve decided not to date anyone right now.”
Two days later Lance Collingsworth announced he and Carrie Bourke were going out. What a backstabber. The worst part was that she didn’t deny it. How could this be happening? I was essentially in my dating prime and the only person in the world that I wanted to be with didn’t want to be with me!
After a couple days of mourning, I stood in front of the mirror one night, shirt off, and flexed. I might have been a little puny and, yes, my two front teeth looked like giant Chiclets trying to run away from each other, but I had something special and sooner or later, all the girls would know it. In fact, the more I thought about it the more I realize Carrie wasn’t that good looking after all. Her voice was pretty annoying too.
There was, however, a special girl that I had my eye on. I went to my bedroom and I wrote a note to take to school the next day:
“Dear Stacy…would you go out with me? Circle one…”
What about you? What is your favorite Valentine’s Day story? Tell us in the comment section below!
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*Photo credit: karen horton
