ammogirl

I have an embarrassing story to tell you. I was reminded of this story while commenting on someone else’s blog just now, and I decided to just get it out there, because I know it will make you laugh at me. It is one of those stories that sits just there, under the surface of your memory, and everrrrrry once in awhile you’ll do something and it will pop out, all “hiiii! you were really stupid once! remember?!” and you place your hand over your eyes because, god, how ridiculous can you actually BE?

My trigger for this story? Panties. Not just any panties, but thong panties.

First, backstory: you all already know I was something of a social misfit while in school. I barely…BARELY dated, and even those brief forays into the realm of the opposite sex were of the shallow type…there were no actual dates, or anything. I mean, I was the Homecoming Queen my senior year, and at the end of that year, I had to bribe the guy in the locker next to me to be my date for prom. I paid for everything, including my own corsage, and if you really must know, he is one of the guys in those LC vacay pictures I posted on Flickr.

Then I did a few years here and there…lived in England for awhile, moved back and lived with Toni for awhile, but during that time, STILL no dating. I knew nothing about flirting. I bought a pair of boots from a shoe store in the mall and got a crush on the salesboy, a cutie named Eli, and I would occasionally go to the mall just to walk past his store twenty times in a row, and peeeeerrrr ever-so-carefully around the corner of the storefront just to get a glimpse. I mean, I was only 19, but, you guys, I was NINETEEN. I joined the military soon after, and almost immediately met and married my first husband. Decent guy, just…we were so wrong for each other that it couldn’t have been any more wrong. We toughed it out for nearly six years – we had the girls, you see – but then the inevitable happened and we went our own ways and suddenly, I was once again single.

After about two months, I was worried, nobody had appeared from behind the curtain to sweep me off my feet, so I decided to take matters into my own hands. I had recently noticed a cute boy at work, and through a friend I managed to score a date, and out we went.

You guys. It was horrendous. A disaster. He picked me up and we headed down to Fairbanks. It was a half-hour drive and not ONE word was spoken between us. I stared out the window the entire time, trying to think of something to say, but nothing, NOTHING would come to mind. In fact, when we made it to town, he pulled into a parking lot and said to me, “This is a disaster. I’m going to take you home.” and I, terrified by the fact that I was an utter failure, begged him not to and tried to channel my sister, who always knew what to say. I think we ate, and then we went to his friend’s house, and while I was using the bathroom in there, I heard him say to his friend that it was an awful time, and he couldn’t wait for it to be over, because I was SO BORING.

Well. I just wasn’t having that. I talked the date into renting movies to watch at my place, and as soon as we got there, it happened. The most embarrassing moment ever. You see, in my newly-divorced state, I had gone all wild and bought…thongs. Pink ones, black ones, patterned ones. I thought thongs held the magic power of sexay. They were my secret weapon, and once the secret of my thongs was revealed, I was positive no man could ever find me boring.

So as we sat on the couch, as far apart from each other as possible, watching Practical Magic, which, probably because of the general situation, seemed like the worst movie ever, I turned to the date, and in my most sultry, seductive voice, I said, “I bet you are wondering if I am wearing a thong.” I then popped my eyebrow a bit, for the extra sexay. It was moment, and I was seizing it with vigor.

The date turned to me with a look on his face I could only describe as grateful wonder. “A-ha!” I thought to myself, “he is so overwhelmed with my wildness he cannot RESIST me!” and then his mouth opened, closed, he paused…scrunched up his eyes a bit and said, “Actually, no, I’m not.”

It was the cringeworthy moment that would define all of my cringeworthy moments, past and future. It was the embodiment of my ineptitude. It was the definition of my unworldliness. It was the singularly most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to me in my entire life, and believe it or not, I didn’t realize it at the time. No, it took a few months and a discussion with my sisters for it all to dawn on me…I was a true dork.

It was a very brief relationship we had, the date and I. About as long as it took to walk him out the door.

Fortunately, I went to the desert shortly after that, and there found some friends of the male type who were kind enough to give me dating tips (always keep your feet pedicured and never ask for salad. and don’t ever, ever broadcast your choice of undergarments, ESPECIALLY at the tail end of a completely disastrous first date) and a few months after my return, I met John. And he could not resist the magical thongs.

Tomorrow is Tenerife Vacay Thursday! I promise I’ll think of you guys when I’m lying on the beach, sipping my tasty drink.

Tschuss!!