Flashback: Flirting and Death Threats, A Valentines Day Story

It was the night before Valentine's Day, and I was sitting at the kitchen table, focused on the task at hand: choosing which classmate got which Valentine. I had my fifth-grade class list printed out next to me, and methodically I checked off one name at a time. Each Valentine had to be carefully selected. Who got the biggest hearts, the cutest animal, the silliest pun?

The stakes could not be higher; this year, my crush, let's call him Brad Corkscrew, was not only in my class but at my table. AND, my best friends, all boys, were picking up on my feelings for him. I had spent my entire elementary school career fighting to prove that not only, was I a girl who could be friends with boys, but that I absolutely did not and would NEVER have crushes on any of them. Brad wasn't in my immediate friend group, but that didn't make the situation any less dire.

If I wasn't careful, the valentine I gave to Brad would unequivocally prove that I liked a boy.

I simply could not handle that degree of humiliation.

And yet, none of the heart-covered cards felt benign enough to truly clear myself of any suspicion.

I was going to have to get creative.

So, I did what any self-respecting tomboyish fifth-grader would do. Under the puppy with hearts and the pun that was probably something along the lines of, "You're totally Paw-som," I added my own message.

I wrote, "I will erase you."

It was perfect. Short. Simple. Got the job done. You don't give death threats to people you have crushes on, so there was simply no way the accusations could continue.

I was in the clear.

On the fateful day, poor, unsuspecting Brad sat across from me at our desk, opening his valentines. When he got to mine, he paused and said, "Uhhh...Nic. What does this mean?"

I wasn't expecting to actually be confronted with what I had done. Unsure of how to respond, I doubled down. I grabbed a giant eraser from my desk, one with the corners chewed, plenty of pencil holes jabbed into the sides, and the slogan, "FOR BIG MISTAKES" emblazoned on the front. I held this swirly orange monstrosity up, and repeated, "I will erase you," while moving the eraser slowly back and forth in a way I hoped was menacing. Then, in sheer panic, I broke into a maniacal cackle.

Shockingly, this stunt did not absolve my friend's suspicions.

I would like to say, that decades later I am now able to flirt more effectively.

But that would be a lie.

My most recent flirting endeavor was a few days ago when there was a cute boy and I was egged on by some friends, "Just have fun! You don't have to DO anything, and it's good for closure!"

I proceeded to talk about bloody penises, a reoccurring nightmare about Mr. Clean eating my parents, and my dog's butt problems.

Maybe the moral of this story is I'm the type of bisexual who should not be allowed near men.

Or that I have gotten better because as bizarre as I am, I now stay away from death threats.

Or maybe it's that as ill-executed as my seduction attempts were, I accomplished everything I set out to accomplish:

Have fun. Check! There is nothing quite as nostalgic as the look of bemused horror in an unsuspecting man's eyes. Nothing quite as fun as running to a group of new friends, all dressed in black fo-leather, and laughing at yourself until your sides hurt.
Don't DO anything. Double check.
And finally, closure. Allowing myself to entertain the possibility of someone else may be a step in the right direction. But unfortunately, closure isn't something I can find in one chaotic encounter. It's something only time can build me, slowly, moment by moment. And this brought me one moment closer.

Anyways.

Happy V-Day.

I won't erase you.

Love,

Nic

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