The Blind, Blind Date

I was 8 the first time I fell madly in love. This love lasted until I was 19, and I'll tell that story someday.

I was 10 the first time I was asked to be someone's girlfriend. I promptly told him he would have to ask my dad...he was never heard from again.

I was 13 when I tried kissing my best friend, Jene-Paul. This was a hysterical failure (see here).

But it wasn't until my 14th year that I experienced youthful romance at it's finest. His name was Jamie.

Once upon a time, my mom went to a meeting and met a new person. This happens all the time, so there was nothing particularly noteworthy on this particular day. She met a young mother, and they hit it off. Mom bragged about me, the other lady bragged about her little brother. We were the same age...wasn't that funny?

I heard about it in passing when mom came home that night. It was no big deal. There was a little brother who was chronically shy (like, seriously shy), and he was my age. That was it.

And then he called me.

This complete stranger, known for his extreme shyness, called me out of the blue...just to talk. Luckily, talking happens to be a specialty of mine...so my incessant chatter covered a multitude of painful silences. I have no recollection what we talked about, but I do remember the feeling of sheer giddiness afterwards.

I went to sleep that night excited that a boy had actively pursued me all on his own. But when I was awakened the next morning to yet another call, I was starting to feel downright twiddlepated.
Keep in mind that I knew absolutely nothing about this boy. Our phone conversation had done nothing but prove that he was painfully,  painfully shy.

So when he asked me to have lunch with him that afternoon at the local Dairy Queen I calmly said yes, hung up the phone...and went bat-crap ballistic.

I tumbled (literally) downstairs to my mother...

"WHAT AM I GOING TO WEAR?! WHAT DO I SAY?! HOW DO I ACT?! MOOOOOM!!!"

But really, the prevailing terror running through me was..."What if he doesn't like me? What if he doesn't think I'm pretty?"

Mom helped me pick out an outfit while I tried to find my contacts, so that I wouldn't be forced to wear my giant spectacles of fashion murder.

Only I couldn't find them...anywhere.

I started to panic. I had 20 minutes to find my contacts...and they had traveled into deep space 9.

When it was time to leave and I still hadn't found them, I accepted my sure demise and reached for my glasses.

Which were also missing.

Off I went to meet my blind date...totally blind.

This might have been okay if I had been going to meet someone NOT suffering from chronic shyness. I walked in and hoped he would spot me, only to find myself surrounded by dozens of color blobs that I sincerely hoped were actual people. No one made a move towards me and I sucked up all my courage and plowed ahead...table by table...asking if they were James.

That little cuss was hiding at the very back of the restaurant, buried in his hoodie, scooted halfway under the table.

I sat down, smiled, and did my best to converse with the quietest human being I had ever encountered. After a seemingly uneventful time, I got picked up and went home. I was positive that he hadn't liked me...until he called again.

I was severely confused. And who could blame me? I grew up in an environment where silence was so out of the ordinary that we usually made the assumption that a deadly illness was at fault. I actually wrote in my journal that this was probably an elaborate prank (thank you, Hollywood, for giving me such ridiculous notions).

But then something happened that I have never, ever forgotten. My mom had another chat with his sister, who had eavesdropped on a conversation that James had with his father. It went something like this...

"Dad? I need some money."
"What for?"
"I want to buy some acne medicine."
"Why?"
"Because I met this girl...and she is so beautiful, dad...I really want her to like me."

Considering that I was blind as a bat, I probably would never have noticed, but once this conversation was relayed to me (sneaky ladies) I was smitten.

Obviously Jamie and I weren't destined for a lifelong love, but I remember him fondly to this day. Frankly, I wish I could find him again and tell him how special he was.

Any boy who overcomes fear in order to give love, kindness, and affirmation to someone else deserves a freaking high-five.

You go, Jamie. 


P.S. I'm sorry that I never spoke to you at school...I actually thought you were avoiding me. In retrospect, I realize that I should have pounced you and made you a life-long friend.