I think that I blame my 8th grade boyfriend for setting my standards of romance a bit too high for all future relationships. He was constantly doing one thing or another to keep me happy - you know the usual stuff, like mix tapes, ice cream deliveries and locker surprises. On Valentine's Day he gave me a necklace and a dozen roses with the following card. How gosh darn cute.
Do you know what I did?
I got him a calendar of 'scantily clad obese women.' At least that's how the Principal worded it when he was sentencing me to a Saturday school for sexual harassment.
So, I had to clean up my act and start being as mushy-gushy as he was.
After we said I love you, there was really no turning back.
Can we all take a second to recognize the fact that I was in the eighth grade (I had braces!!) and talking like I had found the person I was going to spend the rest of my life with, just because our relationship lasted longer than a month. It lasted 7, if you were wondering - and I got him a card for every. single. month.
(He actually asked me how I could afford to buy him so many cards, because he had to save up his lunch money or ask people for change in the cafeteria to scrounge up the money for my gifts. Again, eighth grade!)
If you're also wondering how I have possession of cards that I gave him, it's because he saved them all - and when we broke up (for real, because it happened every other week) he gave them all back to me in a shoebox. I guess that's better than burning them, but it was still a pretty strong message: I want to pretend you never existed.
Ah, the romance.
Wow, good stuff
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