Throughout my life, my interactions with women have been described as “unbelievable” or “creepy” or even “terrifying.” I believe this has been well documented. I present to you, Exhibit AA994-13a. This true story comes from 1994, when I was in the tenth grade at Wayzata Senior High School in Plymouth, Minnesota.
It was a new school for me and everyone else in my grade. We were all struggling to fit in and find our place in this massive building. It was the beginning of the school year and one of my classes was Biology. I looked forward to this class, as fate had paired me up with one of the most beautiful girls in my school. For the purpose of this story, her name shall be Jamie.
Jamie was my lab partner in Biology class. I like to think that it was because God loved me and wanted me to make sweet love to this woman, but in actual fact, it was because her last name started with G and mine H, so we were paired together because that is how sorting people alphabetically works.
Throughout the next couple weeks, I did my best to make it known I was totally into her. I did my usual stuff – not giving her eye contact, barely talking to her, wetting my pants when I saw her in the hallways, and crying uncontrollably in the bathroom stall in-between class periods. I, like you reading this right now, was completely mystified as to why my approach wasn’t working. Something had to be done. I was a sophomore now. It was a new school and I needed to step up my game.
I spent all weekend coming up with a way for Jamie to fall in love with me. By late Sunday evening, I had a plan. The previous week I overheard her say in the halls that she thinks Mike was cute. Mike was a fellow drummer who I knew pretty well. He had dark, curly hair and honestly, he was pretty dreamy. I met Mike in junior high school when he was “the new kid.” I showed him the ropes at his new school: which teachers are the nicest, when to get the best selection of library books, how to fake drowning in gym class to get out of swimming, which kids gave the gentlest wedgies… you know, the essential stuff. Anyway, my plan was to play matchmaker and hook the two of them up. THEN, I would… I don’t know. I’d figure that part out later. It was 7:00pm on a school night, which was already two hours past my bedtime. I’d have to figure out the logistics of how I would get Jamie to fall in love with me later. But first, it was time to get her to fall in love with Mike.
Monday morning came, and I couldn’t wait for Biology class. To get Jamie and Mike together would mean that I would actually have to TALK TO Jamie… like carry on a real conversation. Then, while this conversation was happening, she’d realize how cool I am, and forget all about this Mike character, instantly falling in love with me instead. This plan was so genius.
During Biology class, somehow Jamie and I started talking. I’m not sure what we were talking about. I’m pretty sure I was falling in and out of consciousness because a girl was actually talking to me. I remember her asking if there was any girls that I fancied at that school. (Except, she used a term way cooler than “fancied” because she was cool, and I was not.) In my head, I was screaming “YOU! YOU! YOU!” but I responded with “not really” or maybe even “No! Yuck!”
“How about you?” I asked her. “Do you [fancy] anyone?”
(Again, replace “fancy” with a cooler-sounding word. Any term from the 90’s will do. 1990’s.)
“Well… there is one guy,” she said like a giggly little school girl… because she was a school girl, I guess.
“It’s Mike, isn’t it?” I responded.
She was surprised and confused as to how I knew the answer. Remember, I overheard her tell her friend she likes Mike in the hall last week.
“Yeah! How did you know?” she said excitedly.
How did I know… hmmm… well, there is really only one way to answer that question. There is absolutely no reason to tell anything BUT the truth. Instead, I decided to improv it a little bit and go off-script.
“Sometimes… I hear voices and one told me you liked Mike.”
The English language does not contain the words to accurately describe the sheer horror that was painted across her face.
“I think I’ve always heard voices…” I continued, filling in the silence.
Oh my God, please stop. STOP!
“Sometimes they’re good things. Sometimes bad things.”
I couldn’t stop. Meanwhile, the color was quickly draining from her face. It got to the point where a friend of mine who was sitting in front of us turned around and told me to stop because I was scaring her.
I did heed my friend’s advice and I stopped, but at this point, the damage was done. I finally talked to the woman of my dreams and I ended up telling her that I hear voices. Perfect. THIS is the plan I spent the ENTIRE weekend devising?
The days that followed played out as expected. Mike and Jamie got together, I mysteriously got a new lab partner, and I never spoke to Jamie again.