Wednesday, February 02, 2011

wifercize wednesday: crushes, part 1

After watching Easy A (three times in two weeks) and then Scott Pilgrim vs. The World (which is arguably the best movie ever filmed) I began to recall the angst of high school days, and high school crushes.  You know the kind: the relationships that launched, flourished, and terminated without ever materializing outside of your own contemplations.  The crushes you (still) refer to by their First and Last Names.

The tales only made tolerable through self-deprecating humour and, preferably, Emma Stone playing a quirkier, prettier, more triumphant version of your high school self.

All names used are real.  I apologize if you just now discovered that I am blogging about our fictitious romance over a decade after we went to school together through the magic and horror of Google.  But, then again, you're the one Googling yourself so we can share in the humiliation.

First came Hart Massie.  I didn't realize that his first name was effeminate or his last name derived from the famous Massie family.  I just thought he was cute.  We began "going together" (my mother's term) sometime at the end of grade eight, after our year-end trip to Qu├ębec City.  Halfway through summer holiday a friend asked me, "Hey, how's Hart?"  I had completely forgotten we were dating. I called him up and we both agreed that a forgettable relationship was one which didn't require continuation.

His best friend, Dave Foster, systematically dated each of the girls in our group of friends starting with me.  He asked me out by tucking a piece of paper into an the case of an empty permanent marker and passing it to me during class.  The note read: "Would you like to go out?" and two boxes accompanied the proposal, a YES and NO.  I checked YES.  We broke it off a week later.

Ingmar Mak was my first alterna-crush.  He was Asian, super smart, creative, hilarious and quick.  Too quick.  Once, during a class we shared, the teacher had not shown up (this detail, in retrospect, is peculiar - what teacher just doesn't show up for class?) and we were all busying ourselves by doodling on the chalkboard.  For reasons beyond comprehension, I took a piece of chalk and wrote "I ♥ INGMAR" in billboard-sized font.  BUT: I WROTE IT IN CODE.  It was a stealthy code used in many intimate high school correspondences between girls.  It was airtight.  Except that Ingmar knew the code.  And Ingmar was confident enough in his findings to summon my, and everyone else's, attention.  "Sarah, does that say I ♥ INGMAR?"  In my panic, I recanted.  "What?  No.  Did you think-?  Oh, no, not what I wrote.  You're probably thinking of the other code..."  I improvised a variation of the well-known code and wrote it up on the board for all to see.  I only discovered later that, according to my made up code, I had written "I ♥ INGQAV" which was not only a phonetic impossibility but also eerily resembled Ingmar's name.

Mack Fyfe, or Matthew Ian Fredrick Darian Fyfe, had the coolest name I had ever heard.  We were schoolmates and also performed together in musical performances at the community Beaches Arts Centre.  Our British director, Anne Butler, referred to us as "hooligans" and spent half of our precious rehearsal time telling us to pay attention.  He is one of a handful of people who can match my energy level.  In a performance of Good News!, a musical, Mack's character said of my character: "She's like a wool sweater.  Hot and drives you crazy!" and, in Jack the Ripper (again, another musical, if you can believe it) his character referred to my character as "Slaggy".  I thought it was endearing until I found out it was a British form of "skank".

Poor Tristan Ticmanis was keen to get my phone number for what seemed like the majority of grade 10. I finally acquiesced by giving him all the digits of my phone number except the last one.  I changed the last one.  That's how cunning I was.  It took him a few months and then he worked out that the phone number I gave him was not the same as the phone number all of our other friends had for me.  I pleaded insanity.

Stay tuned for Part 2 next week.  This is too good to give to you all in one dose.

1 comment:

Charis said...

will we hear about the boys that had crushes on you?