B is for Bad Moments

We all have moments that we’d really love to forget every happened. I’m not talking about catastrophic or life changing events, although those certainly do come to mind under the heading of “bad.” I’m talking about every day things that you just wish you could wipe from the slate. An embarrassing moment, or a time you stuck your foot in your mouth and really wish you hadn’t.

Because I love you, my readers, I am going to share some of my bad moments with you.

So. I was on my first date with this guy that I really wanted to impress. I was a freshman, and he was a senior. In high school, you know this meant everything. Right off the bat, I had already lost some cool points because my parents wouldn’t let him pick me up to go to the movies. My stepmother had to drop me off (with my little sister in tow), and then return to pick me up. Siiiiiiigh. Somehow, Mr. Cool had overlooked this and was still willing to spend the evening with me. So I dolled myself up in my favorite ensemble at the moment- a black sweater with 3/4 length sleeves, blue jeans, and sky high black boots. My hair was short then, and I had flipped the ends out, which was all the rage my freshman year. I even dug up an old picture of it for you.

Dimitrios Kambouris

Just kidding. I have destroyed all the photos from that time, because minus the bangs, it probably looked pretty similar to this. Oh, the things I’d like to forget.

ANYWAY. I felt like a million bucks that night. So Mr. Cool arrived, and my stepmom (Ashley) and my sister left. We went to see Phone Booth, and everything seemed to be going well. There was even hand-holding you guys.

When we left, I felt sure that I had impressed Mr. Cool, and that there would be a follow up date. Ashley was parked in front of the theater, and I waved goodbye to Mr. Cool and strutted my cute little self on to the car.

…..except…. 

I didn’t see the oil slick in front of the car.

My cute little sky high boots? Yes, they skidded through the oil, catapulting me face first into the passenger side window of Ashley’s car. The entire car moved from the impact. Mr. Cool turned around, coughed over the laugh that was bubbling out of his throat, and managed to say, “Who-ho-hoa. You okay?”

Mortified, I meekly replied, “Yep! See you later!” and jumped into the car. Meanwhile, Ashley was literally wheezing because she was laughing so hard. I planted my face into my hands, and we drove home.

Mr. Cool and I did go on a few more dates after that, but we never got serious. However, every time Ashley and I see each other, we end up telling that story to whoever is around and laugh until we’re blue in the face.

 

On second thought, maybe I don’t want to forget that one. I laughed out loud while I was writing it, so it can’t have scarred me too badly.

Onward. The next moment that comes to mind is when I was eleven. During this time in my life, I had glasses that were bigger than my entire face, a fondness for slathering on Smackers lip gloss until you could smell the stuff from a foot away, and extremely short blonde hair. It was a strange, strange time.

I was very good friends with a girl named Jessica. She went to a different school, but her father and my stepfather worked together, so we spent a lot of time at each other’s houses and always went to each other’s birthday parties. When we were younger, we always had fun, but when I turned eleven I became extremely self-conscious and shy. I went to Jessica’s birthday party that day feeling very aware of being the odd man out, because I didn’t know a single person at that party besides Jessica and her parents. I spent most of the day hanging awkwardly around her parents beside the grill.

Part of the party schedule included a hayride through their property, since they lived out on the edge of town with a lot of land. Jessica sat at the front of the wagon close to the tractor, and the other girls crowded around before I could claim a spot beside her. I glumly chose a spot at the very edge of the wagon, on a hay bale by myself. Siiiiiiiiigh. I sat there silently, probably (although I can’t remember for sure) slathering on ten more tons of Dr. Pepper flavored lip gloss.

We started across the field, and I spent my time tuning out the other girls jabber-jawing and staring at the trees. We went down a slight hill, and over a particularly bumpy patch.

Suddenly, the sky was above me. I stared blankly above me, and the pieces began to come together. Apparently the bumpy patch of the trail had thrown me off the wagon, so I was on my back on the trail. But I was somehow still moving…

…Then I noticed my foot.

There was a bungee cord across the back of the wagon to hold the hay bales in place. And yes, you guessed it, readers. When I fell, my foot caught caught under the bungee cord, and I was currently being dragged behind the wagon.

The wind was knocked out of me when I fell, so I couldn’t manage to make a noise. And apparently, because no one at the party had been talking to me, they didn’t notice that I had disappeared into thin air. 

After probably ten-fifteen seconds, although it felt like twenty-seven hours, I heard a voice in the distance say, “Hey, where did that girl go?”

Then a face peeked out over the edge of the wagon and met my eyes. The girl, whoever she was, gasped and screamed, “MR. JERRY, STOOOOOOP!!!!”

The tractor jerked to a stop, and Jessica’s father ran around to where I was flopping around like a fish out of water. He freed my foot from the bungee cord and helped me to my feet. In a state of true disgrace, I climbed back onto the wagon and sat in the middle of the other girls. My ankle was oozing blood, but I refused to say a word until we got back the house, upon which point I locked myself into the bathroom and scrubbed the blood off my leg… and the mud from my hair.

My mother came to pick me up shortly after that, and Jessica and I never spoke of the incident again.

 

I think I might have revealed enough of my bad moments to you for the day, so I’m going to stop myself here. There are many, many more stories besides the two above, though.

Have you ever had a moment you’d like to forget? Share with me!

A

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5 thoughts on “B is for Bad Moments

  1. How have I never heard the first story?! I love the hay ride story, as you know. You should have included the one about you slipping down in the road by the ferg! Hahah xoxoxox

    • Haha! The first story is one that I tried to block out for a long time!! Both because of the situation…. aaaaaand the true identity of Mr. Cool. HA. I would have included the Ferg story, but what was the true story there? “I’m a moron who wore flip flops in the rain and I fell on my butt in front of at least fifty people….twice!” Haha…maybe that is actually a good one!

  2. Pingback: C is for Childhood Favorites | The Happy Teapot

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