Embarrased

30 Nov

When I was a sophomore I was in love with a boy a year older than me, and he was a twin. We went out for a while, but then his stupid desire to like, “see the world” won over, and he was soon off to live in Brazil as a foreign exchange student.

I was all kinds of devastated, so I did the obvious thing and started dating his twin. His twin was not quite as cute, not quite as outgoing, but he had two things going for him: he had shared a womb with the boy I loved, and he was in love with me. Like, foolishly in love with me. I feel terrible about the whole affair now, really, but that is for another day.

So it was the first night we were going out on a real date. I was all done up and ready to go, and he was late. I kept walking up to the door and looking outside, expecting him to be there any minute. An hour later, and I was Pissy McFumerson. I called The Best Friend, and was like, “Woe, woe, woe, dire, dire, woe, what should I do?” and she suggested actually calling him to see where he was. This was before cell phones, so I called his house and got his answering machine and didn’t leave a message. For whatever reason, just hearing the stupid answering machine message made me more angry, so I called The Best Friend back and didn’t really even let her say hello before I launched into a tirade that was something like this:

“Who the HELL does he think he is? What the FUCK is he doing? HE IS TWO HOURS LATE RIGHT NOW. What a DICK. I should have have known he would be like this, he probably knows deep down inside that it’s his brother that I love and he is doing this to get back at me. Well! WELL! He is stupid! And UGLY. And I hate his ASS FACE. And I’m pretty sure I caught of whiff of bad breath when he asked me out. SICK. Like, brush your teeth LOSER!”

Then there was a really long BEEEEEEEP.

“Do you have another call?” I asked The Best Friend.

“No, do you?”

“No!”

“That sounded like . . . ”

“NO!”

“I think it was the . . . ”

“DON’T SAY IT!”

“Dude. That was the fucking answering machine beep.”

See, it was back in the day of three-party calls. Remember those? When you called Friend A and then “hung up” and called Friend B and “hung up” and then you were all magically connected?

I had basically hung up when the answering machine picked up and in my huff, called The Best Friend, therefore connecting us and recording my entire sixteen year old bitchy teenager rant.

Oh. My. God.

There was nothing I could do. I mean, it was on his parents answering machine. I didn’t even know where he was.

So about five minutes later, he pulls up. His hair is disheveled, he face and hands are dirty, he has no jacket on, and he is apologizing profusely. He got a flat tire in the middle of nowhere and had never changed a tire before and had to do it in the dark.

Just when I thought I couldn’t be a bigger asshole, right? I mean, the least he could have been doing was a bunch of hookers and some blow or something, so that my angst had some justification.

So I’m like, “Oh, your poor thing! It’s ok, come in, get a glass of water*, and hey! Why don’t you call and erase your messages because I had a private conversation on your answering machine by accident, and it was PRIVATE, and I don’t want you to hear the things I said, so can you just be nice boy and erase it? Or punch in your code and let me erase it?”

He agreed to do it, and I was so happy. I was just breathlessly waiting for him while he called his answering machine and then his mom answered. I could only hear his end of the conversation which was, “What? Really?”

Fuck.

So yeah, his parents heard the message. They played it a lot. I was totally the butt of the joke. He still wanted to date me (yikes!) but the twin, the one I loved, was not so enamored. What was the point anyway? I wouldn’t have ever been able to show my face in front of those people.

*As I tell this story I don’t know where my parents or his parents were. I mean, my parents were never gone, and this story all plays out like a Gossip Girl sequence or something, wherein there are no adults and we are pouring ourselves a drink of brandy from the crystal decanter on the sidebar. I assure you, my parents were lurking around somewhere. HANGING THEIR HEADS IN SHAME, no doubt.

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14 Responses to “Embarrased”

  1. The Best Friend 11/30/2009 at 10:02 am #

    Oh boy do I remember that VIVIDLY!! Like yesterday.

    • lswan 11/30/2009 at 3:23 pm #

      I was trying to decide which humiliating moment I should use for this exercise and you were pretty much a part of all them, even if it was just like this one: as a witness to my assery. Thanks for still loving me, dude.

  2. Liz 11/30/2009 at 10:30 am #

    Dude, this story literally made me nauseous. I am cringing for high school you.

    • lswan 11/30/2009 at 2:32 pm #

      The thing is, it was a toss up between this and another really bad one, and don’t know which is worse. I have no class.

  3. brigidday 11/30/2009 at 10:30 am #

    Kind of reminds me of the time my friends and I egged a boys house (small town, what can I say) because of a thwarted crush. He found out “someone” had done it and called me. I played dumb and we rode around all night egging the houses of the people he thought had done it. After we were respectively home, in the wee hours of the morning, he called me to say his parents had recognized the people who had egged his house. He found out the next morning that it was me. Oops.

    • lswan 11/30/2009 at 2:35 pm #

      UGH. Once at a slumber party a bunch of girls tp’ed (?) the house of a boy we all loved, and someone dropped something and the lights came on and we all scattered, and I was running my little heart out, and I look at the person running next to me and it is his sister, who has caught up with me because I ran so slow. Small towns, FTW!

  4. Jen 11/30/2009 at 12:28 pm #

    O.M.F.G. I could totally see where this was going and was just too horrified to quit reading. Just makes your skin crawl! LOL! Poor high school you!

    • lswan 11/30/2009 at 2:36 pm #

      High school me was a hot mess. 🙂

  5. mepsipax 11/30/2009 at 12:33 pm #

    Oh damn, I remember those. Girls were evil little fucks who would call you with another girl on three way. Not the three way I was looking for. Sorry about your bad luck.

  6. Hilly 11/30/2009 at 1:40 pm #

    Oh God, I cringed. Three way calling and answering machines got me in a ton of trouble in high school so I totally feel your pain.

    • lswan 11/30/2009 at 2:38 pm #

      It’s bad news. I imagine that if I was a teen at the time of MySpace and Facebook I would have done some permanent damage.

  7. Desiraie 11/30/2009 at 11:05 pm #

    OMG I just choked I was laughing so hard. Awesome story before bed.

    A few years ago I was in my car using my spiffy new hands free headset to leave a voicemail for my BF who I was broken up with at that moment. I thought I had turned the thing off. Luckily I turned the music back up before I began talking to myself. I was rehearsing how I would tell this other guy I was seeing that I was really in love with my BF and I couldn’t see him anymore.

    THANK GOD that the music muted most of what I was saying but the BF did question me about who I was talking to and would NOT believe that there wasn’t someone else in the car with me. He was very suspicious of me for a couple weeks. I wonder how long that voicemail was and what exactly he heard me say.

    I feel your pain!!

  8. Desiraie 11/30/2009 at 11:10 pm #

    Oh yeah … and this chic at work used to spy on the executive meetings at our open conference room. I typed her name in the subject line and sent an email to our president’s assistant saying, “the company spy is at it again” or something to that affect.

    Um … I hadn’t put that chic’s name in he subject line. I put it in the TO line!! OMG … thank God she was busy spying. It gave me time to run down the sprial staircase to her office and delete that email before she saw it!!

  9. papa 12/01/2009 at 4:45 pm #

    Yeah the parents were somewhere. Maybe the living room eh.

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