The Trials & Tribulations Of Blacking Out
My name is Heidi and these are my stories. All names besides mine have been changed so I don’t get sued but all of these stories are accurately depicted. I’m an average girl with an average life but for some reason I’ve been blessed – not quite sure if that’s the word – with my fair share of bizarre, hilarious and priceless dates (date is a loose term) and awkward moments in general. I hope you enjoy living vicariously through them as much as I did, to some extent. Growing up, I had the same idea about love that a lot of little girls have: find your prince, fall in love, get married, happily ever after. I also thought this plan out before I ever kissed a guy, before I got wasted, before my parents got divorced and before college. Plans change and reality sets in. I’m not cynical, just more of a realist. I remember reading those Tucker Max stories about how much of a douche he was in general and to girls but they still banged him in the end. I would laugh out loud over the insanity of those stories thinking how dumb could those girls be — well 15 plus guys, 10 plus years and too many horrible dates to count later, I’m now realizing I’m the girl on the other end of the story. No, not the literal girl who let Tucker Max fuck me after being a dick. The girl in the sense that even when I’d gone on a shitty date or a guy was an ass to me or ignored me, I somehow still let it continue. This was mostly in part to my Gigi (“He’s Just Not That Into You” for all of you living under a rock) phase where I was borderline desperate and had about as much respect for myself as the amount those guys had for me. I’m not entirely sure what event sparked my decision to record all of this but it hit me on the way back from New York City the other day. Sitting on the bus for over four hours is a good amount of time when your mind can wander and mine happened to wander to Logan, since I was listening to a band he showed me. Logan is a former flame turned current friend but more on him later. Anyways, thinking of one guy got me thinking about all of the guys I’ve encountered in my life thus far and how weird this journey into becoming a twenty-something has been. Not that I think my family or future children will enjoy reading what’s about to follow but I figured it’s good to keep it all written down somewhere so that maybe when I’m 70-years-old and getting FOMO I can read about my (mostly drunk and weird) shenanigans. Enjoy and again, sorry mom and dad! The beginning of the end started in 2001 with a boy named Charlie in the 5th grade at an elementary school on Long Island, NY. As a somewhat chubby, glasses-wearing 10-year-old with frizzy brown hair and crooked bangs, you could imagine my disbelief at being the only 5th grader with a boyfriend. Rewind. Charlie and I were in the same class and our older brothers were best friends so after hanging out a few times, he asked me to the movies and it was puppy love from that point on. I distinctly remember screaming and dancing around my room like those idiots do in romantic comedies. It still boggles my mind how my parents let two 10-year-olds go to the movies alone (actually it was a double date with one of his friends and my best friend Amanda – make that four 10-year-olds). We saw Ice Age and after naturally sitting next to my best friend, his friend asked me, “why aren’t you sitting next to your boyfriend?” That was the first time I had ever heard that word in a sentence involving me as the subject. I blame this exact moment for putting high expectations on relationships in my brain. It’s like I went from caring about getting slurpees at 7/11 with my friends after school or riding our bikes around the block to only thinking about Charlie, who truthfully, resembled a short and tan turtle. His resemblance to a turtle due to the long neck, not turtle in the sense that he had a hunchback. Neither of us had ever “dated” anyone so we just went with our own idea of what it was. We would write each other love notes in school, sit next to each other on the bus and he would call me right after 7th Heaven every night like clockwork. When we were dating for a month he gave me a mixed CD, which included some bumpin’ tracks of the 2000s by Ja Rule and JLo, and a teddy bear. I remember on my 11th birthday he came to my house for a family birthday party, which will be the only time my family meets a guy I’m talking to until I’m in my 20s. He gave me a Noah’s Arc bracelet from Macy’s which I’m pretty sure my mom still owns and possibly wears and which is considerably nicer than some of the presents I’ve gotten from guys in my 20s. My older sisters who were 13, 15, and 16 at the time kept pressuring me to have my first kiss with Charlie after we’d been dating a couple of months. To be honest, kissing had never even crossed my mind. I thought holding hands was pretty racy and truthfully I was terrified for my first kiss. I had no idea what to do. Apparently Charlie thought we should be taking the next step too and went in for the kill the day after my birthday which I awkwardly declined in a Burger King parking lot. If the first time you get dumped is any sign of what’s to come my future wasn’t looking so hot. Three days after my 11th birthday Charlie had his best friend walk up to me in front of the whole cafeteria and hand me a break up letter. Yes, this was a time before texting, but I got a handwritten letter explaining to me that I was the “office type” and that he never wanted to see me again. For those of you wondering what the “office type” is, this was the year that Fat Joe was popular and “What’s Luv” was the number one song. To be even more specific the exact line Charlie was referencing was, “I wanna chick with thick hips, that licks her lips, she can be the office type or like to strip.” Ladies and gentleman, a ten year old wrote this to me in a letter. If this was 5th grade in 2001 I can’t even imagine what it’s like almost 20 years later. Needless to say that was the end of my first (short-lived) relationship. Luckily, it ended towards the end of the school year so I didn’t have to see Charlie for the three months before middle school started. Unluckily, when I got to middle school there was a rumor that he only dated me because I let him borrow whiteout. Kids and their imaginations.
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