Hence, why I have completely given up on being the seductive chick in a group of friends. I stick with what I know, which is awkward and strange commentary. If I have a brain fart and somehow end up slipping into "hot" mode, it usually pans out that I trip on a pothole or I will attempt to open a starburst with my tongue and choke on it (Although, years of practice hath only lead me to unwrapping one of them babies in under thirty seconds). We can call it 'talent', if you so choose. I call it 'being fucking sweet.'
My last entry spoke of one Bobby Wheaton, the super-genius senior, who was good at literally everything that had to do with academia. Even some teachers revered him. His brain must have so many wrinkles on it. I assume it looks like a big, dried watermelon...or something not as dumb as that analogy. Either way, that boy was smarter than the mere mortals that surrounded him. He eventually utilized a scholarship to Yale University and ended up at Duke Law School. Not bad, I guess... Perhaps I have always been attracted to the cute guys, who were also ridiculously smart. Something about them being hot nerds and them not knowing they were hot made me pant like a dog in heat.
However, my attraction to Bobby was sincerely based on the fact that he was hot and a genius. I literally knew nothing else about him. I did not know anything about his personality other than that he was hard-working and athletic. So, on that fateful day, in the library when I had conversed with him about my potential article (which was previously mentioned in my last post), I had no idea that I was opening up a can of worms. Awkward-moment worms, to be exact.
There were three incidents in which I involuntarily killed any chance(s) that I had with Bobby. Each of them, more stupid than the last.
After I pretended that I did not know him before the day that we spoke about my article, Bobby thought I was an okay little lady. He did not care too much about my existence when I would wave like an idiot from ten yards across the hallway though.
"HEY, BOBBY!" I would scream, with my obnoxious yell, down the hallway.
He would simply wave once and go back to the rest of his day. One day, I even waved to him while he was coming out of the boy's room. I did not realize how weird that was until I looked back on it ten minutes later. However, I figured that that small, awkward moment was redeemable. There are only so many redeeming qualities that I possessed when I was sixteen though.
My first incident took place at the Starbucks in my hometown. It was on a day where they were giving away free, java-chip brownies with any frappuccino purchase. Naturally, my fat-ass immigrated on down to the closest Starbucks it could find in order to accomplish this manifest destiny. My sister Bunny and I sat on the right side of the coffee shop and started to have a conversation when Bobby walked through the door. I was mid-attack into the brownie when I noticed him in line. I immediately stood up, so that he could see my existence and then yelled his name.
"HEY BOBBY!" I grinned fiendishly and adoringly. It was one of those Julia Roberts smiles where I could feel the ends of my lips touch my molars.
Almost instantly, my sister grabbed my arm and pulled me back onto my seat. "Stop smiling!"
"What? Why?" I asked.
"You have, like... an entire brownie in your teeth. So..."
Oh.
Oh?
Oh!
Oh...
Oh?
Oh!
Oh, so that's why he didn't wave back? I felt my butt and my stomach collide inside of my body and throttle my soul. I started cleaning my teeth with my tongue inside of my mouth. I used my frappuccino as mouth wash until I realized that it was java-chip as well. My sister wished she was not there with me for that moment, but she was and she can never go back. Bobby got his coffee and left without anything but an eye-full of hillbilly, chocolate mouth.
The next Monday at school, I avoided Bobby at all costs. I wore a dark, green hoodie in the library to mask myself from the opportunity of spotting him, for I was sure he had nightmares about my wretched smile. My high school was small enough to host those chance run-ins with people that needed to be avoided, so I took the necessary precautions when I chose to arrive incognito. However, this decision somehow decided to work against me. As per usual.
During my free periods, I would frequent the library and find random books and write poetry and quotes in their pages, in hopes that somebody would find them and it would change their day, mood, life, etc, instead of doing my actual homework that was due a period later. I burrowed myself in the isle of books on artwork when I stumbled upon a big, heavy, ancient-looking, leather-bound book that was titled "Artwork of the 20th Century" so I attempted to pull it out. I saw someone in the corner of my eye walk into the isle but my hoodie blocked my side view. Whoever walked through was not as important as me getting this heavy book out of this tight spot.
I pushed.
I pulled.
I sighed.
I gave up for a second.
I pulled again.
I thrusted it towards my body when it magically released itself. As I wobbled from getting it off of the shelf, I managed to step on somebody's foot behind me, causing me to jump out of my skin and throw the book into the air. The book hit the other person in the head and then bounced off of the same foot that I had originally stepped on. The incident was all a blur because of my big hood. It was not until I removed it that I noticed it was, none other, then Bobby himself.
Oh my God! What if Bobby has amnesia? ...I thought. He won't be able to go to Yale! What if he is as dumb as a bag of rocks now? Maybe he will forget the brownie macabre? Maybe he will come-to and look into my eyes and see that I am The One. And we will both be two, senseless idiots living in harmony and have dumb-ass children together! Maybe THIS is our destiny! Oh, I love you, Bobby Wheaton! I will never let go...
In reality:
I stared at him for what felt like a month. When I finally got the courage to move, I leaned toward the ground to retrieve the big book and when I shot back up, my hand grazed his package. I knew from that moment on, this was the only time I would ever be that close to his manhood ever again.
"Walk much?" he said sarcastically, but semi-annoyed.
"I..." ---couldn't talk.
He looked at me, waiting for an explanation as to why I lack skills in balance. "Are you okay? Ha! You got me pretty good there, Dana!" He said my name! I will repeat---He. Said. My. Name. Maybe there was hope?!?!?! Although he was a bit shaken about the fact that I had almost took him out with a dusty book.
"I'm sorry. I am kind of clumsy. Obviously." Then I finally got some balls, but just for that moment for some reason, "I'm about to go to the caff for a snack. I will buy you a snack in exchange for the goose egg that I just caused..."
"Ooh, snacks? Depends on what kind of snack..." He flirted.
This would have been an opportune time to say, "Whatever you want..." and we would have lived happily ever after, I assure this. But my stupid mouth spoke before I could even process an educated phrase in my frontal lobe.
"Well, it's Monday, the caff made brownies..." ---As I said the word 'brownies', I decided to stop my mouth from opening and making any noise. Was I fucking kidding? He looked at me with a frown and his mouth half-open. He knew that I hated myself for saying that suggestion. The word 'brownies' caused him to remember my dirty, witch mouth and I could see it in his face. He knew--- that I knew--- that he knew--- what I was thinking. He went right past thinking I was a a fucking idiot and directly into knowing it. I wanted to melt into a puddle of goo, right then and there, and slip under the bookshelves and stay there until the school day was done. He also must have thought that I reeeaallllyyyy liked brownies... which isn't false.
I thought my reign of stupid moments with Bobby was done when I was chosen to sing the "National Anthem" at the last basketball game of the season. Perhaps I could show Bobby I was not a complete loser and woo him with my sweet vocals. Like, really though...why was I still trying?
I got patted on the back by a select few peers that saw me perform at the game, but Bobby never said a word to me. Frown Town, USA.
Baseball season started soon after and Bobby was on that team too. Like, could he get anymore involved? I accompanied my friend *Red to one of the baseball games and decidedly watched his ass the entire time. If I could not touch it, I sure as Hell was going to ogle the fuck out of it.
My friend Red and I went to Dunkin Donuts after the game was finished, where we stood in line for about five minutes. During that short time, I talked of nothing but how hot Bobby's ass was. I went into detail about how perfectly curved and toned it looked in his baseball uniform.
"The padding only made me want to rip it off and bite what's under it."
"I would not mind using that thing as a pillow."
"The only thing better than that ass is me slapping it."
"Bobby Wheaton should live in my closet so I can tap that whenever I want."
"His rump is a Greek God's wet and jealous dream."
"I would lick that thing like there was no tomorrow!"
I had loads of some-what misogynist phrases. I imagine I would feel quite violated if somebody said stuff like that about my ass. Flattered, but still a bit creeped out. And I was not quiet about it, whilst I waited to get my coffee, I expressed all of this freely. I knew people could hear me but my mind was on the prize. His ass was the prize.
As I am going on and on about Bobby's delicious glutes, I feel a tap on my shoulder. It was a middle-aged, blonde woman trying to get my attention.
"Excuse me? Were you the girl who sang at the last basketball game?" She asked. I smiled nervously. I was flattered that she even remembered.
"Yes, that was me. My name is Dana Clark, by the way." Bad move, Dana Clark.
"Yes, you did a very good job. I was very impressed." She stated her compliment.
"I am sorry. What is your name? Does your son or daughter go to DHS?" I asked inquisitively.
She cocked her head to the side and said "Yes. I am Mrs. Wheaton. Bobby's mother...You obviously know him..."---WWWWWHHHHAAATTTTT DDDIIIDDD SSSHHHEEE JJJUUUUSSSSTTT SSSAAAYYYY TTTTOOOOOO MMMEEEEEEEEE??????
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!
WHY THE FUCK WAS I TALKING SO LOUD? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME! SHE HEARD ALL OF IT! SHE HEARD ME SAY I WANTED TO LICK HER SON'S ASS! HER BABY BOY HAS NOW BEEN ASS-LICKED, IN HER MIND, BECAUSE I CANNOT KEEP MY MOUTH SHUT!
Before I knew that she was Bobby's mother, I could have gone on for ages. My mouth had a motor and my mind was spewing out dirty fuel. However, after she casually mentioned that Bobby was a product of her very own womb, the only intelligible sound that could exit my throat was, "Oops."
I decided to smoothly eject myself from the situation by simply walking out of Dunkin Donuts quietly. What made it worse was the fact that Bobby was sitting in the front passenger seat of his old, blue Volvo in his baseball uniform, waiting for his precious mother to purchase him some lunch. He waved to me. I stared at him for just a second to remember the last smile he will ever give me. After this incident, there really was no going back. His mom totally could not wait to tell her son about how "that girl Dana was talking about your butt for five minutes in the Dunkin Donuts line."
Sometimes, you come up with a plan to confront your fears and face the hole that you have dug yourself into. You pick yourself up off of the ground and take one breath at a time in order to regain respect that you have lost. You keep your head high and a smile on your face because you want to appear confident. This is not one of those times though.
Essentially, I hid in boy's bathrooms and janitor's closets to avoid eye contact with Bobby. I even got stuck inside a random, sticky locker to avoid him crossing my path in the science wing. It took me seven minutes to free myself from the jizzy, ketchup-y, deodorant claustrophobia that was this student's locker. I really could not have picked a more awful location of locker real estate.
I saw him for the last time that year at his graduation, where he was valedictorian of his class. I shook my head the entire time he spoke. He would eventually go off to study law at Duke as I sit here and recount that stupid year.
The last time I actually saw him was when he came back to DHS to visit when I was a senior. I figured I would give it one more shot (really had nothing to lose at this point and knew it would end in shame... creature of habit?)
He waltzed into the library with a glittery aura surrounding him.
"Hey, Bobby!" I said at a normal volume.
"Hey, Dana! What's going on?" He asked. I could see his memories of me flood through his eyes. Shit, now I was nervous. Prepare for the idiocy.
"Not much, just farting around on the computer..." ---Farting? Was it necessary to add flatulence to this... already?
He nodded and pretended that I did not just say 'farting'... "So, you been lookin' at schools?"
"Kind of. Just getting started actually. You go to Yale, right?" ---HA! Like I didn't KNOW that. "What is your major?"
"Poli-Sci." He stated. Is it bad that I did not know what that was at the time? I was not smart enough to know that it was the abbreviate of Political Science. So my response was also fucking dumb.
"Oh my God, me too!!!" ---Why did I say that? I don't even know what he is talking about.
"Really?" I can tell that it shocked him to the core. Space cadets know nothing of this Poli-Sci...
"Ha! No. Just kidding." I snorted. ...STOP!
"Oh..." He looked confused. He spotted someone more interesting than me and said, "Nice to see you..." and skidattled.
A random freshman that was sitting next to me was mouth-breathing as she stared at me. I knew she had heard the entire conversation whilst she sniffed at her hair. She had jeans on with permanent marker and paint splashed on them and green streaks in her hair. She sniffed at the armpit of her shirt and made snap noises with her blue gum. I saw a bit of myself in her. I raised my eye brow and smiled...
"Welcome to your fuckin' life, little weirdo. This is your destiny."
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