Pathetic Memory Mondays is a weekly-ish feature where I delve into my past to discuss a rather pathetic and sad memory. It’s hilarious now, unlike when the memory took place. It was very sad then.
Sixth grade. Cafeteria. Just ate lunch. Feeling nervous, sweaty, full, dumb.
I’ve been thinking of asking her out for some time. I probably shouldn’t use her real name but whatever, it’s Melissa. She was one of the cool kids in school and I wasn’t not cool but I wasn’t in that group. Somehow, throughout my entire life, I was never a cool kid but never not a cool kid. Being the funny fat kid had its benefits: it kept me in the middle of the social classes.
As I always mention, I was a fat kid. So fat that, when students were ordered to sit four to one side of a table, a teacher said I take up the space of two kids. That’s 100% true. She said it to my face, which was probably full of cake or something. And everyone heard it. Needless to say, she was a bitch.
So lunch is over, everyone is heading back to class, and for some reason, I decide to ask Melissa out. But before I give you the very accurate play-by-play, let’s get a few things out of the way.
First, I knew nothing about going out with a girl. Nothing. Literally nothing. What were we going to do? She lived within a mile of me, so maybe we’d hang out? Go for a walk? Eat some food? She was very pretty and I doubt she looked forward to food as much as I did.
Second, would our parents take us somewhere? Like the mall? Or to the park? What the hell were we going to do? I had no money. Would my parents loan me some cash to buy sodas or something?
Third, what would we talk about? I’d have to be funny. That’d be a lot of pressure. And what happens if our hands touched? I didn’t know how to do anything. Would we have to hold hands? How do you hold hands with a girl? Should I kiss her? Like on the cheek? Lips? How do you kiss? Where does the tongue go?
Fourth, I looked like this:
I could go on and on about how horrifically awesome this photo is. America shirt? Fat face? Twin towers? Never forget.
Finally, I had no game. I wasn’t cool or smooth. I didn’t play sports (unless you count Four Square which I was pretty great at.) I played trumpet, was moderately funny, and did a really good Eric Cartman impersonation.
With all that in mind, here’s how it went down:
Melissa grabs her backpack from the wall. Mark quickly approaches, slightly sweaty.
Mark – Hey, Melissa. You wanna go out with me?
Melissa – Oh, no. Sorry. I’m not dating until high school.
Mark – Oh, okay. Cool.
Mark runs away, his fat tits slapping against his body.
On one hand, props to me for being so forward. You don’t see that type of honesty these days. But on the other hand, what an ass clown. I remember being sad, but comforted by the fact that it wasn’t me necessarily, it was her. She had principles. She wasn’t going to date until high school, when she was more mature and ready. It wasn’t that I was overweight or not that cool or that I played trumpet. It was her. And that made me feel good.
She started dating someone at the beginning of seventh grade.