Well I made that formula up to convey the following.
Unless you do not have ears and do not have eyes or do not own a radio or television, you’ve no doubt heard of Paris Hilton. See, she’s this really talented actress and…bawahahaha…I meant really talented attention whore. Anyways, she’s dating and is engaged to this dude named Paris. So, together we have Paris and Paris or P2 (cue Simon and Simon theme music). Well, that got me thinking about the time I had a girlfriend way back in seventh grade named Carrie. Yup, Carrie and Kary. In case you are wondering, yes, it was confusing at times.
It’s hard to remember back that far with any details but there are a few things that stand out. She was a year older than me. We were in the “gifted” class together. And by “gifted”, I mean we did things like sit around and think of as many uses for an empty plastic six-pack drink ring holder thing. Yes, stretch those little minds children, what can you do with an empty six-pack holder besides strangle poor unsuspecting birds? Think about that while I step outside for a smoke.
You had to take all these hard tests to get into the class but I don’t remember it being much more than busy work. We did some cool things like design a city and build a model of our design. My group almost failed and I don’t know why. I had to drink alot of lunchroom chocolate milk to have enough half-pint cartons for all the buildings, dang it! But I ain’t bitter.
Right, so this girl, Carrie, was in my class. I don’t remember how we “got together”, but we did at some point. It probably entailed the usual piece of paper with “Will you go with me?” on it covertly passed to the girl by me via one of her friends.
Man, let me tell you, up until about eighth grade, I had tons of girlfriends. Probably a new one every month or so. Of course I wasn’t old enough to drive anywhere and there was nothing sexual or even physical beyond holding hands about these relationships. But. I. was. the. man. I had girls asking me to be their boyfriend and stuff. Then around eighth grade too much self-awareness kicked in or something. And kids started being sexually active and that sorta freaked me out. I just didn’t have an interest in getting naked with girls at that time in my life. I don’t really know what I was into at the time but going out with a girl and maybe her expecting some nakedity along the way was just too scary. Though I imagine most girls felt the same way but what did I know? Nothing.
Right, so this girl, Carrie, was in my class. I had gotten contact lenses for the first time ever in seventh grade. I had worn glasses, big thick coke bottle glasses, since the second or third grade. I was always afraid to try to kiss a girl with glasses, at least that’s the excuse I told my friends when they asked if I had kissed a girl yet. So, sans-glasses, I decided Carrie would be the one.
One day, at the end of class, I told her I needed to tell her something after class. Woowoo, was I ever slick. When the bell rang signaling the end of class, my emotions were boiling over and I don’t think I have ever known fear and apprehension like that before or since. I casually lead her outside and around the side of the building. She’s all So what did you want to tell me? I’m like Uh uh uh uh.
But I just stood there like a dolt for-seemingly-ever. I had my hands on her waist and she had her hands on my shoulders. The setup was perfect, no one was around, JUST DO IT YOU PANSY. I knew time was getting short; the bell for the next period would ring any moment. But I was just standing there with her patiently smiling up at me.
Then, the next thing I remember, her tongue was in my mouth. Not wanting to offend the first-girl-I-ever-kissed, I stuck mine in hers and waggled it around a bit.
The moment lasted forever; time seemed to stand still, spitballs and paper airplanes frozen in mid-air while we did our tongue dance in each other’s mouth. I WAS KISSING A GIRL. w00t! I don’t remember if it was a particularly good kiss or not (most likely not since it was my first one and all). I was just euphoric from actually, finally KISSING A GIRL.
And then it was over and immediately the bell rang and the spitballs and paper airplanes resumed their flights toward their respective targets and we ran off to our next class so we wouldn’t be late.
So that was a high point of the relationship. There were lows, oh yes, there were lows.
Her birthday came up and she invited me to her birthday party. I unfortunately could not attend for some reason that I can’t recall. The big question was What Do I Get Her? From what I remember, I messed around and didn’t have anything but a card on the night before her party. See, my mom was going to swing me by the party so I could drop her gift off and say a quick hello before going on to my previous engagement.
Check it out, I had seventeen dollars to my name. That was it. I couldn’t give all of it to her, I mean, how would I eat? Haha. Anyway, I was going to put the ten dollar bill in the card ’cause I’m a generous guy like that.
Now, I know money is a sucky gift to give your eighth grade girlfriend, but what else was I going to do? It was the freakin’ night before and I had nothing but my seventeen dollars, man. My mom saw what I was doing and she said No, you are not going to give that little girl your ten dollar bill. But Mooom, it’s all I’ve got to give her right now. Well, you’re not giving her the ten dollars. Me, being a somewhat selfish kid, gave in and slid the five and two ones into the card instead. I felt bad, but I just didn’t have any other option. Mom wouldn’t let me give her the ten and I didn’t have anything else so it was the seven or nothing. She wouldn’t care would she? I mean, isn’t it the thought that counts anyway?
We rolled around to the party the next day and I hopped out of mom’s Delta ’88 in search of my girlfriend. I found her by the pool with a bunch of other kids, some I knew, some I didn’t. I felt slightly out of place. We didn’t do a whole lot together outside of school. She gave me a hug and I gave her the card. With the seven dollars inside. Yeah, a five bill and two ones.
She tore into the card, excited to see what her loving boyfriend had no doubt agonzied over to find just the perfect gift to reflect my deep emotional connection to her. She took the cash out, incredulously fanned it open like it might have almost been something and said with a forced smile Seven dollars, thanks. She looked me over to see if I was kidding or had her real present hidden behind my back or something. No such luck.
I felt like a very small idiot.
Oh well, I left and went whenever it was I was going. The birthday gift, thankfully, was never brought up.
That summer Carrie left on an extended family vacation and like I said, I had the womens lined up at that time in my life. I think I broke up with her over the phone. I at least waited until she got back home, it’s not like I broke up with her while she was on vacation, heck, that would’ve been cruel.
So I wonder what the equivalent of my birthday gift for Carrie would be for Paris for Paris. I guess he might get her only one car? Or a ring that is less than eight carats? Or a mansion with less than a double-digit number of bedrooms?
Oh, an eight bedroom, twenty five thousand sq/ft home with a Mercedes in the five-car garage? Uh, thanks.