In 9th grade I got my first “girlfriend”. Her name? Kelli Reilly, she was an adorable, girl-next-door type and inexplicably thought I was the bee's knees. Sadly, I was a terrible “boyfriend." Now before you start judging, let me explain this was not due to laziness, it was a product of fear. I would avoid eye contact in the hallways, say only the stupidest things when we would talk, and was terrified of handholding, hugging and kissing. I don’t know how she put up with me for the better part of freshman year, but God bless her she did. Then things took a turn for the worse.
At the end of the year our whole school had ‘Knotts Berry Farm Day’, Knotts is a theme park that’s less fun but cheaper than Disneyland. And we would get one day off to go and have fun there. It was a few days before Knotts Day and I was getting real pumped, then Kelli’s best friend Kailey approached me and gave me horrible news: Kelli expected me to kiss her at Knotts. I was still terrified, and now I had a kiss deadline?! My heart stopped. My greatest fear fulfilled (give me a break, I went to a Christian school, all of us were like this).
So the awaited day came, and it started out surprisingly well, with me being less awkward than usual. We went on the Ghost Rider with all our friends, and we even held hands during it!!!!!! OMG!! Walking off the ride, I was feeling like a boss. Then suddenly I was violently pulled behind a bush by an unknown force. I turn and see it was Kelli, and she is now staring at me. One word leaves her lips, “Well?” Days pass. Or seconds, who knows. Finally, I grab her and kiss her, then I do the stupidest thing anyone can do after their first kiss.
I run.
Yep, I ran, and I ran for a while. Once I finally stop running, I realize what I just did, and begin despising myself. I spend the next few hours moping and reminding myself of my stupidity. Then things get even worse, I run into her again, and she’s with her friends.
I decide the only thing to do is surrender all pride and apologize. She shocks me by accepting the apology and not mocking my very existence. She even asks me if I want to go on Montezuma’s Revenge with her. Clearly I accept, beyond relieved.
It was towards the end of the day, so there was no line, which meant we got to repeatedly ride without having to get off. Now I had never been sick on a ride before, so I ignored it when my stomach began to feel very strange about the fifth ride. By the sixth I was clearly sick, yet I didn’t want to run to the bathroom since running hadn’t served me too well thus far. The seventh time there is no question I was going to puke, and now its just a matter of getting to the bathroom in time. I would not blow this! I got off the ride, holding dear, forgiving Kelli’s hand, with all our friends behind us. And while walking down the stairs, the unimaginable becomes a reality. I throw up, all my friends laughing, all her friends laughing, and all I can do is run. Again.
The moral of the story? Even the most embarrassing stories can become funny after a few years of blocking them from your memory. Hope your Valentine’s Day is better than my Knotts Berry Farm Day.
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