Guy’s Perspective: V-Day Gone Wrong

After you read this story, I want you to close your eyes for just a second, and think about that one memory. The one that makes you wince. That makes your whole body tighten up as if it’s about to be hit by a car. The one that makes you close your eyes and shake your head at how embarrassing it is. The one that—if you’re like me—makes you inhale like you just got pinched. And if you’re alone, you might vocalize your feelings in a resounding, “No. No. No. Make it stop.” But no matter how much you flail or wince, there’s nothing you can do to change it. It’s been done and perhaps that’s what makes those memories sting so badly. When I’m done with this story, I want you to think about your cringe memory.
 

Now, if you were to condense my life into a highlight reel, it would be full of cringe memories; one mortifying experience after another. Often times I’ll be walking to class or driving home and I’ll see something that will trigger one of the memories and for a brief moment. I remember one time I was in church and something that Father said during his sermon made me cringe. He was talking about how one shouldn’t abuse their bodies with drugs or pre marital sex. I bring my hands up to my face and said, “God, please. No!” Then lucidity hits and I bring my hands down and I’m back at church and the whole congregation is staring at me. I look up to Father who must have thought I was simply moved by his sermon because he said something to the effect of “You must be strong for the Lord, my child!”
 

 For me, another trigger is Valentine’s Day. Every time I see a box of Whitman’s chocolates or a naked cherub with its shit-eating grin in the window of Hy-Vee, my mind goes through the old memory flow chart wherein I make the connections of images back to those cringe moments. Cupid. Valentine’s Day. Spin the bottle. I shut my eyes. I inhale. And I’m back in ‘Nam.
It was the Valentine’s Day of my 8th grade year and I had successfully made it 13 years without kissing a single girl. Not because I couldn’t mind you. It was just that none of the girls I knew were quite good enough for me; except for one. I had the biggest crush on a girl named Hanna McElroy. Hanna was the object of affection for almost every guy I knew in school. She was really pretty but she wasn’t so pretty that she wasn’t approachable. She had this long auburn hair that really brought out her stunning blue eyes. And her smile—God, her smile. In Roman times, wars would have been waged over her smile. She was cute, fun, and kind; just an absolute angel.

After deciding that 13 years was quite enough for not kissing a girl, I decided to do everything in my power to seduce Hanna. One thing I had up my sleeve was my ability to make her laugh. It was wonderful. Every time she laughed, I would forget the world for a brief moment and lose myself. It was like a drug and I was an addict. So I made it my sole purpose to try and make her laugh as much as I could. After many IM conversations and playful banter in English class, it became clear to us both that we both liked each other. However, I wasn’t able to work up the nerve to ask her out.
 

That Valentine’s Day was the day I went to my first boy/girl party. Thrown by none other than Ashleigh Peterson, a girl who was so cool she rejected the normal spelling of Ashley for the much more cosmopolitan Ashleigh. I was dumbstruck. Not because this popular girl was inviting me to her party but because I had heard a rumor that Ashleigh threw different kinds of parties: kissing parties. The concept of which kept me up at night. They just get together and kiss? On the mouth? They can get colds that way! Fearing that I was going to walk into some sort of trap, I decided to invite my best friend Jimmy along for support. Now Jimmy was the kind of kid who was shaped like the Twinkies he regularly had for lunch. He also wore a bowl cut for the entirety of his middle school career, cementing his place in the reject social class. Jimmy would be my extra set of eyes and ears, just to make sure I wasn’t going to make a fool of myself. This was extra important considering Hanna McElroy was also invited to the party.
 

So on the day of the big event, Jimmy and I were sitting in his family van on our way to Ashleigh’s house. We were so nervous that we didn’t exchange more than two words to each other. We both had our nervous quirks. Jimmy kept looking out the window, muttering about how hungry he was. I on the other hand preferred to swallow air. It was a tick I had developed sometime in elementary school that I have carried with me all my life. Whenever something agitating happened, I would take a big gulp of air in. It was all I could do to remain calm. So the whole car ride was mostly the sound of Mrs. Thelen’s talking at us occasionally punctuated by a loud wet cough as she cleared her throat.“Oh you boys look so cute,” she growled at us, “break out the smelling salts because those girls will just faint when they see you. Especially you, Tony.”
She winked at me through the smoke stained rear view mirror.
“Thanks, Mrs. Thelen.”
She took another drag of her cigarette.
“Y’know, Tony. If I were just 12 years old again, I wouldn’t mind planting a nice big wet one on you at this party.”
“Mom,” Jimmy groaned.
“He knows I’m teasing, sweetie. Besides, if I were 12 again I’d have to be 10 years younger! Haha–!”
Her laughter was cut short by a coughing fit that was punctuated with a nice big loogie on the floor of the car.
Jimmy shook his head and turned to me.
“Do you think there’ll be food at the party?”

Jimmy had his mother drop us off two blocks away from Ashleigh’s house. God forbid the other kids see us get dropped off by one of our mothers. Before she drove off, Mrs. Thelen rolled down her windows and told us that she needed to tell us something. We approached her with reluctance. However, I would never forget what she told me.
“Boys,” she said with the cigarette in the corner of her mouth, “always remember.”
She took a long drag of her cigarette and blew it into the air.
“It’s what’s on the inside that counts.”
We squinted as the wind blew the smoke into our faces.
“T-t-thanks, Mrs. Thelen.”
“Don’t forget it. Have fun!”
 

 She drove off leaving us at a street corner two blocks away from the party. The walk to Ashley’s house was—like the car ride—quiet. I imagine Jimmy was contemplating the evening as much as I was. When we arrived we discovered that we were the first ones there. I guess in our excitement we had shown up half an hour early to the party. Ashleigh greeted us at the door. She was naturally surprised. We were led inside her enormous house. Ashleigh’s parents were usually out as we discovered, busy with work and other things. So that meant that they were going to be gone the whole evening while the party went on. I imagined that this was ideal if you were going to be holding kissing parties.
 

 As the evening went on more and more people began to arrive. Eventually, the party was moving along nicely, though I spent the bulk of it keeping Jimmy company at the food table. When Hanna walked through the door, I had made eye contact with her and quickly looked away. There’s something about knowing that the other person has a crush on you that makes everything more awkward than it should be. As the evening bore on, we began to run out of the usual party games. Ashleigh began to wonder aloud what sort of game we should play next. Now I’m not sure who it was who said it, but whoever it was is a bolder man than I ever will be. Because someone in the room immediately shouted, “spin the bottle!” The room went quiet, aside from the giggles from some of the other girls. I took in a big gulp of air and forced myself to grin as if it were something that wasn’t completely terrifying to me.
 

 “Alright!” Ashleigh said, “I’ll go steal a bottle from my parents room! I know where they hide their wine!” Coincidentally, this knowledge would come in really handy when everyone figured out that drinking was a much quicker way to get someone to kiss you.
 I was petrified though. I had no idea what to do. Jimmy gave me a look of sheer desperation. When Ashleigh had come back with the bottle, the other kids had already begun forming a circle. I saw Hanna hesitate as she walked towards the circle. We both knew the possibilities, but I don’t think either of us prepared for it.
Now if you’re not familiar with “spin the bottle,” allow me to enlighten you: a bottle is placed on the floor in the center of a circle made up of teenagers. One of the teenagers spins the bottle and must kiss whomever it lands on. The first time you land on a person you simply kiss their hand. If you get the person twice in a row, you get to kiss them on the cheek. If you get the same person three times in a row, however, that means you get to spend seven minutes in heaven with them. I believe the game’s origins date back to medieval times when it was used as a method for torture.
 

 I watched a couple of kids before me spin. Lucky for me, it never pointed in my direction. Then it was my turn. I took in a big swallow of air and spun. With each spin of the bottle, I swallowed more and more air. Finally, the bottle slowed down to a halt, pointing at none other than Hanna. There was a collective chorus of “Oooooooo!” as my cheeks burned red. Hanna—embarrassed—smiled and gingerly offered me her pale hand. I take it like she’s a mafia don and I’m paying respect to her. I kiss it. Everyone giggles, but it’s over. I turn to Jimmy. It was his turn next.
 

“I’m gonna go to the—er—bathroom,” I hear Jimmy say. And he was off faster than I had ever seen him run. So much for support. The game went on. Again I watched as the others spun the bottle until it reached Hanna. And again I swallowed a mess of air as she spun it. And as fate would have it, it landed on me. This threw the whole room into frenzy. I smile as my face begins to redden. I lean forward and offer her my cheek, trying not to look her in the eye. She leans in and kisses me. And it was pretty hot.
 As I watched the other kids go, I thought to myself about the chances of me landing on Hanna again. What would I do? I’d have to…go in the closet with her. Seven minutes in Heaven with this angel. I am not worthy. Holy fuck, where’s Jimmy? It came to me again. I closed my eyes, took in another swallow, and spun. Round and round it went. I threw on a smile, trying to look more confident than I actually was. It slowed. It stopped. On Hanna. It was at this point every kid in the room exploded with laughter; every kid but Hanna and I.
 “Go on you lovebirds!” some wise guy shouted.
 “Seven minutes in the brig for ye!”
 I look all over the room, trying not to make eye contact with Hanna. It was at this point Ashleigh said something that didn’t exactly inspire confidence.
 “Just get it over with you two, and don’t make too much of a mess in my closet.”
 I swallowed. By this time my stomach was about half air, and half chips and dip from the food table. This was it. There was no way to back out now. I had to either go into that closet with Hanna or face the shame of leaving the party. I don’t remember walking to the closet door. I don’t remember the sick feeling in my stomach as I watched Hanna come in with me. And I don’t remember the kids as they crowded around the door to listen. But I do remember one thing. Hanna’s chest was touching me, and under any other circumstances that would have been great but at that moment it was the most awful thing I could have felt.
 

 We stood there listening to each other breath. Somewhere in the darkness was Hanna’s face expecting me to kiss it.
 “Well,” her voice finally said.
 “Yeah,” my voice replied.
 “This is pretty weird.”
 I laugh all too loudly. “Yeah, it is.”
 My heart was beating out of my chest. I could feel the air in my stomach trying to make its way out. I opened my mouth to say something.
 “I-I…we should.”
 I gave up. My hands began to search frantically for a doorknob. As soon as I found it though, I discovered—much to my horror—that the door wouldn’t budge. I pushed and I pushed but the door didn’t give way. I began to feel claustrophobic. Trapped. I had to get out of there. I had to escape. My stomach churned.
 “What’s wrong, Tony? Are you—?”
   Then it happened. While she was talking I had tried to take in just one more gulp of air when my tummy decided that it could handle anything else and decided to purge itself of its contents: half air and half chips and dip from the snack table. And Hanna was in the splash zone.Then it happened. While she was talking I had tried to take in just one more gulp of air when my tummy decided that it could handle anything else and decided to purge itself of its contents: half air and half chips and dip from the snack table. And Hanna was in the splash zone.
 “BLLLOORRRRRGGGAAH!”
 “What the—? Oh my god. Did you just—!?”
 “I’m so sorry, Hanna. I’m so—“
 At this point, I threw my whole weight against the door and forced it open. To my dismay, I discovered that the reason the door was so hard to open was because the entire party was against the door listening to us. When I had thrown it open though I had also thrown several of the kids back too. So when I emerged, they were all speechless by the sight of me covered in my own vomit and eyes bursting with tears. Quickly I ran to the bathroom, where I found Jimmy.
 “What happened?”
 “Nothing,” I lied as I wiped the tears out of my eyes, “I’m—I’m leaving.
 “What? Okay! Let’s, er, go together.”
 And Jimmy and I were out of there as quickly as possible.
 As we were walking home, Jimmy kept on pressing me about what happened but I wouldn’t tell him a word. We just kept walking—in silence. As we walked, I could only think about what Mrs. Thelen had told me. It’s what’s on the inside that counts.
 Exhale. Breathe. I’m finished. Now remember our agreement. Close your eyes. Think about it, and cringe.

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