my first rodeo

For those of you who know the other person starring in this post, well... this is embarrassing. To the person who is starring in this post... I am so, so sorry. 

*Names have been changed for anonymity, but because complete anonymity is boring, there is a picture of me with our guest star. We'll call him Peter. Peter Pan.

Once there was a girl who had a crush on a boy for a long time. The far away creepy kind of crush where you don't talk or interact with the person you're crushing on nearly enough to justify liking them. This girl also had no social skills because, well... that girl was me.

Big things were happening my sophomore year of high school. You know, big things like MORP. It would be the first high school dance (and real date) I had been on - ever.

Who do I ask?! I stressed over this for longer than I'd like to admit.

"Peter. You have to ask Peter!" all my friends told me.

I tried to reason with them and told them that we barely talked to each other. He knew who I was, and occasionally we hung out with the same group of friends. That was it. (Also, I'd like to announce that at this point in time, I was no longer crushing on Peter. Everyone thought I was though, so it made me feel and act awkward.)

Somehow I was convinced that it would be a good idea to ask Peter. I mean, what better way to let someone know you aren't obsessed with them anymore? Asking him on a date was clearly the answer. 

 ** This is where I interrupt you to let you know that if you aren't from Utah, the way we ask people on dates here is to doorbell ditch their house and leave something weird on the porch. Or in this case, trash their bathroom.

Long story short, I ended up putting foam letters that were stuck to the plastic board they came on in his toilet. I was smart enough to put every letter in the alphabet in there without clearly marking which letters would spell out my name, so I'm pretty sure his family had to tell him it was me who asked. (I was on to a real good start.)

There were a few times at school where Peter tried to stop me in the hall to talk about the plan for our dance/date. A few of those times I answered, but mostly I just awkwardly made up a reason to scuffle away while looking at anything but him.

I showed up at his house to go to dinner and the dance, or something. (The details are foggy, this was a solid 6 years ago.) Normally when you pick someone up, you pose together like you're friends going on a date while someone else snaps a photo.

How it should have been:

he wasn't even my date.
in fact... he is my cousin.
(incest is the best)

How it actually was:

(kudos to my mom for making both of these costumes)
I'm such a natural. I mean, how comfortable do we both look?
Three cheers for having enough space between the two of us for a wee child to successfully photo bomb.

If there is anything that can describe how well the night went (all thanks to me), that photo just about sums it up. 

I danced with him once. And when I dropped him off, I kept my seat belt on in the car as he said, "Well, thanks, I had fun." 

"Me too." 

I waved. 

So he awkwardly got out and walked himself to the door.

What can I say? I was a dating pro.