Saturday, November 7, 2009

Teenage Humiliation: fresh as the day it was born.

Oh God. Do you ever have one of those moments where you're saying something really stupid and you have a kind of out-of-body experience where you think, Wow, I'm really embarrassed for that person talking. and then you realize, HEY. THAT'S ME.

So, I just got back from the grocery store. I looked good, hair freshly done, cute outfit, feeling okay. In Richmond you just never know who you'll run into at the grocery store, so best to be looking awesome if possible. Anyway, I saw this guy in passing and I was all, wow, that looked just like the Punk Rock Pirate.

Time to back up a bit, I guess. I spent my entire freshman year of college completely, crazy, stupid, embarrassingly besotted with this guy Woodrow. All my friends knew it, he knew it and his best friend, who was kind of a dick, also knew it. His best friend was named Chris, but we all called him the Punk Rock Pirate, because that's what he looked like. We didn't mean it to be a compliment.

Woodrow was not a dick luckily and suffered my longing gazes with an ease I can only imagine came with a long history of, "it's okay, I'm used to it." (Seriously, if you could have seen this guy you would understand. Think Johnny Depp during his 21 Jump Street days. Hubba)

Anyway, Woodrow and I eventually became friends after my friend Ashley couldn't take it anymore and forced me to talk to him. It seemed cruel at the time but in retrospect it was probably for the best. He was a nice guy but the Punk Rock Pirate only ever just tolerated me.

SO, I'm in the grocery store and I see the Punk Rock Pirate. Or at least, I think it's him. He got in line behind me and I got a good look and was all, DAMN. TOTALLY HIM. So I said,

"Hey! I know you, right?"

What I should have said was nothing.

Oh, it gets worse. He looked at me blankly and said,

"Oh really? From where?"

My smooth reply,

"You know, from back in the day - the Village, VCU. You're Chris, right?"

"Uhh, yeah. What's your name?"

At this point I should have just stopped, fled or perhaps made fun of him by telling him we used to call him the Punk Rock Pirate. But no. Why stop at the humiliation of not even being remembered at all? NO. It was past the point of return because I said,

"I'm Adrien. You remember, I had a big crush on your friend Woodrow for my entire freshman year?"

Dawning recognition,

"Oooh, okay... I think I remember you."

Dying inside,

"Hahaha, it was my horrible claim to fame."

WTF, Adrien. What does that even mean?

"Uhh, yeah I guess."


And I fled. Please kids, the next time you're in this situation remember, YOU CAN SAY NOTHING.

*No names have been changed in this entry because, really, what's the point?


  1. Punk Rock Pirate was the reason Karen and I didn't speak for years. Apparently, best friends don't like it when you let them know their live-in boyfriends are cheaters.

    Lesson learned, though.

    He's still a dick.

  2. Oddly, having his dickishness confirmed makes me feel a little bit better. At least I know it's not me, right?