This gem of a photo is me (middle) being held up by Amy (left, bandanna and Lisa (right) the day of my sister’s high school graduation. Nothing says cool 15-year old more than flannel pants, a backwards hat and eyebrows that are in desperate need of a waxing. But I digress.
Yesterday was my high school friend Aimee’s birthday. Even though Aimee is not in this picture, I figured a post about high school would require a photo from the corresponding time period. I wrote the following on her Facebook wall (or timeline now, whatever):
Happy Birthday, I still love you even though I had to kick you out of the something something against boys club that you created in 1997. xoxoxoxox
Now for the back story on that:
Sophomore year of high school was the last year I was forced to take gym. Luckily, I had the class with the lovely Christine, one of Aimee’s closest friends. She was hilarious and we stayed entertained while cursing the physical education requirement that was forced upon us – I mean floor hockey? Really? A golf lesson? Pass. This was also, ironically, the last year I swam competitively and my body has never been the same but that’s cool.
Anyhoodle. One day in gym, a cute boy starts flirting with me. “What’s the big deal?” you’re probably thinking. Well, when I was in high school, this was an event that happened maybe once every other semester – so it was rare. I had never noticed him before, (we’ll call him Lord Voldemort because from that day on he pretty much had my number) but all of a sudden there he was, and very obviously flirting with me. Even Christine thought so, and she had an amazing bullshit meter.
This continued for a couple of weeks and after much deliberation, surveying guys and girls, consulting with Christine and Aimee and gathering all the courage I could muster, I asked him out. Like, the legit 1996-97, “will you go out with me?”
His response? “I would love to, but I’m grounded. But in the meantime, let’s still be wicked good friends.” (We’re from New Hampshire, shut it)
Um, what? Yes, his parents were super strict, but that answer sounded like it was coming from a lying liar who lies.
Lo and behold, the next week he starts going out with someone else – I can’t remember her name. Something like Trashy McIrrelevant.
Being the mature young lady that I was, I immediately stopped speaking to him. I mean, I outright refused. Aimee and Christine were in full support of this and I believe Aimee decided we would form a club called (I shit you not) Feminazi’s across Concord High (FACH), where, as you can imagine, girls ruled and boys drooled.
I am not entirely sure how long the silent treatment lasted, but one day in gym class, Voldy finally apologized for lying to me in-between getting death stares from Christine.
Whatever his excuse was, which I can’t remember and I’m sure was flimsy, I decided to forgive him. Mistake one of many.
FACH became a running joke – I think Aimee even had a boyfriend at the time, but you can’t kick the founder out of their own club, can you?
Fast forward to junior year. Voldy and I had a very dysfunctional friendship. Our high school had block scheduling and we, along with two of his neanderthal friends, had first period free. So for 90 minutes every other day, I had the privilege of sitting with them and letting my crush deepen. Just as I was getting the courage to go for round two, he started dating my one true arch-nemesis (she wasn’t at the time but became so quickly) – Ugly McBitchFace. We had drama together so were friends for like, a hot minute, but then she and Voldy got together and she quickly realized how I felt. Not exactly the solid basis for a friendship – and she was just an awful person. Everyone said so. But anyway.
Voldy and I would fight all the time – I really wish I kept a diary of all that drama because it would be gold for the book. During one of our fights he told either Aimee or Christine or both that he was tired of my shit, or to cut the shit – something about shit. But what 16 or 17 year old reacts well to getting strung along? Exactly.
(Side note: he and Ugly McBitchface dated on and off for like six years until she cheated on him and he finally got rid of her. Thank god they didn’t get married, although he is married to someone else we went to high school with, but she’s actually cool)
Because our deranged friendship had so many fights, we were also pushed into many forced truces. One particular day, Aimee caught us hugging in the hallway and screamed at me. I think I blushed and laughed and Voldy was very confused, but later that day, I received a note from her officially kicking me out of FACH because I had hugged a boy.
Even though it took a while, I kicked HER out after she got married in 2011. It’s only fair, right?
Voldy and I continued our train ride of dysfunction into 2009 or 2010, I kid you not. It was more of the same – “you’re so amazing, I’ve had a crush on you since high school, we need to date, blah blah blah” followed by exactly zero follow through. It didn’t help that we lived in entirely different states but seriously don’t say that crap to me – it does neither of us any good.
One summer evening after high school graduation, a day I fondly remember as The Day of Randomness, he at least provided me with a little light at the end of a very dark tunnel. I’d just had my heart broken and it was a difficult time for me – crying all the time, morose, depressed. I didn’t want to do anything except work (and I worked with my ex, which made the torture meter go off the charts) and watch TV. On this night, when I wasn’t working, Lisa and I were out for a walk by where her parents live, which is close to Voldy’s parents. He drove by us, saw us walking, and then pulled over. We wound up hanging out with him and his friends for a while that night. And even though nothing happened, it was one of the most NORMAL times we’d ever spent together and gave me a glimmer of hope – not that I’d be with him specifically, but that I’d be okay in general. And despite all the other ridiculous nonsense before AND after that night, I will always be grateful to him for that.
