Diary Friday

The following entry is from my junior year of high school. It is intensely embarrassing for me to pass this on, but obviously I revel in self-mortification. It’s ridiculous. Everything is SO DRAMATIC. I talk as though my crushes on guys were literally life and death. I fly up to the heavens when he asks to borrow my pencil, I plummet into the depths when he doesn’t say Hi as he walks by my locker. From day one of my junior year, I was passionately in love (from afar – sort of) with a guy named David Worthen. I SAY HIS NAME PROUDLY. He was in my French class, and my gym class, he was a year ahead of me, he played the saxophone, I thought he was the sexiest person who had ever lived. We were friends – of a sort. The entire year was an AGONY of awareness of him.

I finally asked him to go to my Prom. He turned me down, saying, “I don’t think we know each other well enough.”

That was the worst blow.

Not know each other well enough??? How could he have missed our soulful and spiritual intimacy throughout the entire year? The unspoken novels of conversation going on between us??

I was 16, but my emotional life was like Emily Bronte’s.

November 7

Got my school pictures. I look like Miss Valley Girl USA. The photo’s not bad, though, even though I pretended I hated it. True, it looks as though not one thought has ever passed through my brain. But it’s not bad, just the same. My beets are unusually beet-y! [<i>Ed: This is in reference to my red cheeks. I referred to them as “my beets“.]

Got some of my grades aujourdhui. B in Chemistry and History, C in Math. I was so relieved. I couldn’t sleep for a while, thinking I was going to fail. Oh, to fail. [Ed: ha ha ha So Shakespearean. ] I have no idea what I’m getting in English. I hate that class – and French probably a B. Maybe an A. Hope hope hope!!!

Oooooh! Tomorrow’s Tuesday. And Friday we have no school cause of Veteran’s Day and there’s a parade and the band will be playing!! YIPPEE!! [Ed: Someone we know, the sexiest person on the planet, was a saxophone player. Hence, my excitement for the parade. It’s not like I was a simpleton or anything, randomly thrilled for parades and Oom-pah-pah. There was a method to my madness..]

Today in French – actually, today was a pretty bad day. Nothing happened. [Ed: Meaning I had no contact with David Worthen.] Nothing seemed to go my way. I just — I feel down about everything. David — school — everything. I felt very blah, no energy. I sat in French, occasionally letting a huge sigh out. Ohhhhh. He sits behind me. I am dying ….. [Ed: Oh, for God’s sake.]

J. keeps saying, “Okay, you’re going to ask him to the dance tomorrow.”

RIGHT. Why am I so afraid? I think of him, and I just – I feel all weird inside. Can I explain it? All shivery – sort of. You know? Oh. My. God. [Ed: If you saw a picture of this boy, you might wonder how I could have found him “the sexiest”. He wore glasses, he was gangly, thin, a “band geek” – but to me he was beautiful. He actually was beautiful, in retrospect.]

After French, we were all slowly walking out, picking up our corrected quizzes on the way. I guess, unconsciously, I looked quite the glum. [Ed: Heh heh. I am sure it was QUITE conscious, actually!] Inside, I felt so blue. I was on my way to Math, and then English – gag choke wheeze –

And with my blessed peripheral vision, I saw Dave – who was sort of in back of me – and I saw him sort of watch me shuffle by. I saw him glance once at me, and then look closer. I guess it’s all right that I looked glum. No, but he said, “Smile, Sheila!”

Then – oh, I am so suave – I grinned and said, “Believe me, man, I am trying!”

Now, Diary, here’s the deal. He saw the look on my face and he said something. [Ed: Wow. He saw the look on your face and he said something. Must mean he’s madly in love.] He was reaching out! Why would he do that?? [Ed: Er – cause he’s nice??]

I don’t know. Love is not fun. It hurts. It hurts!!! Why is this happening to me?

I remember all this summer I was thinking, “God, it feels so weird not to like anyone.” But I was glad in a way. John really hurt me [Ed: HA! I had, no lie, 3 conversations with this “John” – and it was enough to make me have a crush on him for 6 months.]

I know all of this sounds very melodramatic, coming from a junior in high school – but it did take me a long time to get over him. Everything has been so topsy turvy lately. Occasionally I have John relapses – like during that day of the cast list. But now – I don’t even care if JW ever falls in love wiht me. I am over him in that way. I still have a ‘crush’ but I completely don’t care anymore.

I want Dave now. [Ed: Uh-oh. Look out.] I DO.

He always seems to choose to walk with me, talk with me. He’s always hovering. And – that’s not his normal personality. I hated him last year. I thought he was a f***ing snob. He never says Hi, he’s not like that. It’s not like him to reach out and say, “Smile, Sheila.”

But still. I could never ask him to the dance.

Why are other girls so fearless about guys? I swear – honest to God – guys paralyze me. Well, that’s not totally true. Not all guys. Just ones I like. They really do paralyze me. Not guys like Trav or Brian or Mike – or even Dave – cause so far, I am just Dave’s friend. His pal.

I AM EVERY SINGLE GUY’S STUPID PAL.

The minute I think about romance with Dave, I just freeze. I couldn’t just go up and risk everything and ask him to the dance. I couldn’s just say, in a pal-like way, “Hey, would you like to go with me?” I want to ask him, but God, I just wish that he would ask me. [Ed: Story of my freakin’ life!] I’ve never been asked by anyone. I’ve asked plenty. And I’ve had enough. [Ed: Uh oh.] For once, I want someone to like me first, and make the first move. Well, not just “like” me, of course, but like me enough to want to do something about it.

Oh, Dave!! Thinking about him makes me want to have an orgasm. [Ed: Holy moly. Lucky Dave.]

No. Forget about that. That’s stupid.

Today in French, Mr. Hodge was saying, “That’s one difference between the French and the Americans. The French aren’t so afraid of touch – kissing on both cheeks, things like that. The Americans can be afraid of touching.”

I murmured to J., “I’m not.” And we both rolled off into GALES of laughter.

I like him more every time I see him. Isn’t that just AWFUL?