The Most Wonderful Faux Flattery

As I take my trips down memory lane, I seem to recall a moment that, after the fact, wasn't a true moment at all. And I find this all fantastic, because for the longest time, I couldn't remember anything of my childhood. And suddenlly, it's all coming back

Let me explain. It's a tale of high school crushes that wasn't, and emotional episodes that weren't. Of what seemed to be, after all this time, isn't.

Long ago, When I was in Elementary school, me and my friends at the time played games that guy friends do: And one of them was discussing which girl you liked in school. All the other guys picked the obvious, popular, overtly pretty-pretty, and pretty much vacuous personality girls. The ones who like to sorta-kiss. The girl who...er...developed early. And the proto-slut in the making.

But I was always different. I was told I had to pick someone, and I really didn't have anyone in mind. As I told them, I'm fickle. So, pressed into a commitment, and com'on, that's a lot of peer pressure at such a tender age, I picked the only girl who was kind to me.

I picked Maggie MacDonnell.

Mind you, not many girls, nor people were all that kind to me. I was Charlie Brown with brown wavy hair. I smartly avoided yellow shirts with a black jagged line. And by the way, Charlie Brown isn't bald. His big fat round head is actually covered with a blond crew cut. Hell, his dad was a Barber. It would be natural for dear pops to buzzcut his son back in the 50's...

But, I digress...

Anyway, like guys do, they ratted me out all for the brief bully satisfaction of watching me in junior high hell. And you wonder why nowadays, I have women as friends more than men. Of course they told Maggie I had a crush on her, and true to form, not only did she ignore me, she did her best to avoid me. For six years.

And all because I respected her for being my friend. I'm so a Charlie Brown. I guess that's where I learned not to tell people my feelings. I'm just learning now, how to just be myself and tell people that I care about them, and damn it all if they can't take that warm gesture. Man, school can so screw you up...

Here we are in my senior year, and have my yearbook. I've made it to the end with my psyche intact. And It's the last day for signing yearbooks. If I don't get a signature, I will never see these people again. And all those "K.I.T." and "stay sweet, see ya this summer" stuff? the stuff of fantasy.

But, because I so wanted to get people to sign my book, I went to school, even though I woke up with a huge fever. I was so burning up, but I walked to school in cold sweats just the same. I had to. I could ignore the headaches. I could ignore the pain. And, this day will never happen again. So, I am at school, dizzy as a broken gyroscope, slurringly asking people I knew for their autograph. And then, I see Maggie in the quad sitting near her friends.

Six years ago, she was the most kind person I ever met. And today, would be the last day I would see her, of this I had absolutely no doubt. So, I steadied myself, as the ground kept moving, and I walked towards her with pen and book in hand. And the pavement just wouldn't stop bucking! Thank the gods above for planning handrails nearby.

As I got closer, the world was a psychodelic acid trip of a haze, and her head was surrounded with a halo. She turned to me, and actually almost hid the mild shock of seeing the former little boy she never again talked to, hand her a large book. I think I managed to ask her if she could sign it, and I do remember it was an awful stutter. My heat toasted brain just didn't mesh with my mouth, and I also couldn't hold the book anymore.

As maggie casually signed it (how do you casually sign something? Like a moviestar does: you sign one thing as you're talking to someone else nearby.), the world started to slip away, and I was encased in an iceberg. My arms didn't work as I slid down the railings, and my legs buckled finally from my body being worn out from my fever.

I hit the ground, and Maggie sort of plopped my book next to my shaky hand, and the world closed in on me, as I gave in to the 106 internal temperature. Maggie then got the last impression of me before I would never see her again. In my last minutes on the floor before I lost consciousness, I finally was able to make her notice me and I gave her one last thing, something she could never forget.

Yep, I threw up.

But think about it. Think about the what I actually gave her, to take with her through her entire life! Something she could always pull from her memory whenever she is down. A story to impress her friends, or possible children. She would be hailed in her cicles, as the most beautiful creature on earth, or at least to one lonely boy!

From her point of view: In junior high, there was a boy who had such a crush on her, had so fallen in love, that he lived with that for six long years. And on the final day when he finally was never going to see her again, he approched her...and not only fainted dead away from her beauty, but actually vomited!!! Maggie probably thinks, that for at least one time in her life, she was placed upon the highest piller possible, and was someone's most perfect Aphrodite!

You can't pay someone a bigger compliment, than them thinking that they're so frikin hot, they can actually make men faint.

I'm kinda hopping she never reads this, I don't want to spoil the fantasy I gave her. So, Maggie, if you ever do someday read this, I really have no proof that I collapsed from the 106 degree fever. Or that I purged in front of you because perhaps some bad bacon. And As I said, My memory fades...

Maybe it was you, huh?