When I was six years old and in the 1st grade, I developed my first real crush. His name was Max and I thought he was God’s gift to the earth. Though my adoration was strong, I didn’t confess my feelings to him as we learned to tie our shoes, played dress up, and took naps on our respective mats. I was dying to impress him, and as the awards ceremony for my school’s annual “Reading Week” approached, I knew this would be the perfect chance to shine. I had picked up reading rather quickly and was entered in a contest where, if I won, I would get to saunter down the auditorium aisle and collect my prize.
So, as the big day approached, I agonized over my outfit, which Mary Janes to wear, and which bow I would affix to my white-blonde bob. Finally deciding on a black taffeta velvet number with colorful flowers adorning the beltline, some simple black Mary Janes and my best pair of frilly socks, I woke up the morning of ready to BRING IT.
Unfortunately, I also woke up with a terrible stomach ache. In denial, I continued with the day as if everything were normal, and didn’t tell my mom or my teacher that I felt sick. Finally, it was time to go to the auditorium for the awards. My class lined up in height order (great way to instill confidence, asshole teachers of the 90s) and made our way to the auditorium. Oh happy day! My crush, also being a little nugget, was standing next to me in line, meaning we would also be sitting next to each other for the entire awards ceremony.
My stomach, already churning, was not helped by the extreme nerves I had being this close to my love. As we sat down, I started to overheat. As a six year old, I thought I could hold down the vomit for just a few more minutes- the 1st grade awards were almost up!
But no, before I could get up and run to the ladies room, it came up. I sat in my chair vomiting into my own lap as my crush looked on in horror, my teacher let out a yelp and came and dragged me by the arm to my classroom, yelling at me for not telling her I felt sick. This sparked the tears, only encouraged by my extreme embarrassment and dismay that my big moment had gone terribly wrong.
After the incident I avoided Max. Although I heard he had been concerned about me and even asked me to sit with him at his table at lunch a couple of weeks later, I was just too embarrassed to ever think he could like me. Eventually he moved to the next town over, and now he pops up on my facebook feed occasionally (ah the joys of the Internet).
So, if you are single on this Valentine’s Day, just be happy you’re not throwing up on your favorite dress with the man of your dreams seated by your side. Or, at least I really hope you’re not.