Red Faced

August 20, 2015   6:00 pm

Writing prompt, The Writer’s Idea Workshop, p. 36

Embarrassing moment in high school…


When I was in high school, I dated this guy named Mark. He was actually my first “real” boyfriend, though not my first love interest. We started hanging out when I was in 9th grade, and he was in 11th. I hadn’t been part of this group of friends before, and it being a small town, I’m still kind of surprised it happened. We just seemed to gel.

Mark took an interest in me first. He asked me out, and I accepted. Little did I know this did not sit well with the girls in the group, who were all jealous. They thought I swooped in and “stole” the man, the favored prince of the group. In this little clique, I believe the girls way outnumbered the boys. I, being a naive 14 year old, had no idea I’d done anything wrong in reciprocating Mark’s interest until much later.

At any rate, he took me on a date to his Tae Kwon Do instructor’s house, that night gave me my first kiss, and everything grew from there. Before long we were “going together.”  We made out a lot - a LOT! - but I was unwilling to go much further than hands under the shirt. I thought he was ok with this.

I found out wrong (one of many times I was wrong about many things). One evening after school, my sister Heidi came to talk to me. Whereas I was a 9th grade nerd, she was 3 years older than me and very popular. We didn’t have the same circle of friends, but she still kind of looked out of for me.

“Jessica,” she said with concern, “did you know the whole school is talking about you?” I had no idea, of course - see naive (and incredibly religious, and pre-Internet) 14-year-old. “I don’t even know how to tell you this. Did you know Mark cheated on you?”

I can’t even remember exactly how I felt. I do recall I’d felt some distance between us but I wasn’t sure what it was about  - I certainly didn’t believe he’d cheat on me.

“Angel Bottom gave him a blow job.” Now, at this point I was STILL very naive. This was pre-internet, remember? I thought a blow job=sex. As in, full on intercourse. I was crushed. I mean, once I found out what it actually was, I was still crushed, but yeah. Angel, one of my close friends in this group, filled in where I would not, and my boyfriend was more than happy to accept her charity.

The next morning I had to go to school. I was sad, upset, humiliated. The whole school knew, apparently. Even our other close friends, who had chosen NOT to tell me. My very best friend, Liz, said it just wasn’t her place (did I mention she was jealous I was dating him?). So I didn’t really want to go. But go I did, because in a high school of 90 kids, you don’t skip without your guardian knowing.

Normally Mark picked me up in his old ’75 Ford Grenada (primer gray!) on his way to school and I rode with him, even though I only lived a block from school. That morning I left before I knew he’d get there. He got to school and found me in the hall and asked why I hadn’t waited for him. I didn’t say anything, that I remember. I just put his class ring in his hand; I had it covered in yarn at the back and had been wearing it, as girlfriends did then (do they still do that? I don’t know!). There were students all around us passing this way and that, on their way to class. It was all I could do not to cry in front of everyone.

To his credit, he did seem very remorseful. And later that year we tried getting back together but it just didn’t work for very long for a lot of reasons. I probably never should have tried after that. But I’m a forgiving person, especially when it comes to someone I love, and a little part of me will always love that guy.