A very romantic love story, circa high school, for your Valentine’s Day pleasure

What? Oh, look, good, here, it’s Valentine’s Day, my favorite.

I have ONE cat, but still have apparently called it quits, thank you, skinny blonde lady with aggressively striped hair.

Here is my one and only Valentine’s Day story.

When I was fifteen, I was dating a very short boy who we will call David. We will call him that because it was his name and because I dislike him enough I don’t care if we use his real name.

Very Short David was my first boyfriend. So since it was the 90s, I of course listened to a lot of Debbie Gibson’s “Lost in Your Eyes” and thought about our future children. That second part wasn’t because it was the 90s, but because I used to be super-optimistic. And of COURSE you marry your first Very Short Boyfriend.

No, it wasn't this bad. But it had to be at least 5 inches difference. In high school, that's different enough, yo.

No, it wasn’t this bad. But it had to be at least 5 inches difference. In high school, that’s different enough, yo.

Very Short David also did not know how to kiss, and thought it just meant you put your mouth on the other person’s mouth and left it there without moving for very long stretches of time. VERY long stretches of time. Like, sometimes you peeked at your watch wondering what television shows you might be missing. Also, a thing that crossed your mind was, “people in movies and on TV shows seem to move their mouths more when they are kissing. I feel like we’re not doing this correctly.”

Very Short David and I started dating in October. So we totally got to date through my birthday, his birthday, and Christmas, which was VERY exciting and we got to give each other PRESENTS. If I remember correctly, I gave him thoughtful things like a baseball signed by some sort of important baseball person and he gave me a very pretty necklace so I was all “ZOMG VERY SHORT DAVID!” and he said, “Meh, my mom bought that and wrapped it and wrote your name on it, whatever” and I was all “VERY SHORT DAVID YOU ARE THE MOST ROMANTIC EVAH!”

As Valentine’s Day approached, I was very pleased. Because there was this foolish flower charity thingy that happened at school and I just KNEW that Very Short David would get me flowers and get them delivered to my homeroom and KA-CHOW I would finally be one of those girls. THE KIND THAT GOT FLOWERS ON VALENTINE’S DAY IN HOMEROOM. What kind of flowers? Poorly dyed carnations, of course, we were in high school, it’s not like we could afford hothouse blooms, sheesh.

I’m sure I bought Very Short David something but I don’t remember what it was. I’m very thoughtful, yo. Always was. Always will be.

So it was like two days before Valentine’s Day and I was SO EXCITED and also VERY ANTSY and all suffused with love and also the promise of ALL THE ROMANCE ALL OF IT.

And Very Short David ignored me all day at school, and I was all, “wha?” because that was not the way we rolled. We passed very romantic notes that said things like “TTYL” and “I like your jelly bracelets today.” (I made that last one up, I have no idea what our notes said. Also, I think I stopped wearing jelly bracelets in like 8th grade, don’t be foolish.)



So my friend who we will call Shari (that really isn’t her name, not because I care about her, but because last I knew she was super-mad at me for something that I don’t really understand and she seems sue-happy so I don’t think it’s in my best interest to use her real name, which is very distinctive) called him on the PAY PHONE in the LOBBY of the SCHOOL (because we were all about the technology back then, don’t even say we weren’t) and Very Short David said, “Oh, tell her I broke up with her, I’m in love with M. now.”

(M. gets the typical initial because she is still a friend of mine and I care about her a great deal.)

M. was my beautiful, outgoing, cheerleader friend. No, I don’t know why she was friends with young-Amy, either. (She’s still beautiful now. She also barely looks like she’s aged. She’s a miracle of genetics, that M. And I don’t even hate her. She’s lovely.)

“Um…what?” I said. Very Short David said goodbye to Shari and hung up. (In a surprising twist, Very Short David and Shari dated senior year. She was all, “will you hate me if I date him?” and I was like, “I honestly do not care what you do” and apparently this is not what you say to someone who thinks she is your best friend but who you didn’t really like all that much because you were kind of broken inside and didn’t really know how to have friendships.)

I cried and cried and went home and listened to a LOT of Debbie Gibson and cried and cried some MORE and then M. called and said, “I just want you to know that I’m totally not even INTERESTED in Very Short David, what is WRONG with him” so that helped a little (and she totally wasn’t, he asked her out the VERY NEXT DAY and she so laughed in his face and I will always love her for that.)

Needless to say, I never got those Valentine’s Day flowers. Also, Very Short David is on my shitlist. And remains there. (Also, Very Short David, after we broke up, told everyone who would listen that I “totally put out” and everyone knew I was a total dork who would not do that so he just got laughed at for attempting that charade. Therefore, he became Very Assholey David, and I still wish him ill. Yes. Still. Shut up, my insane loyalty has a flip side which is the inability to forgive if someone grievously wounds me.)

And yes, this is my one-and-only Valentine’s Day story, as never again was I dating anyone even ADJACENT to Valentine’s Day.

Do I hate a day that’s all dedicated to love and such? Aw. No. Of course not. Does it kind of make me equal parts sad and annoyed? Yes. Yes it does. Yet I am intelligent enough to realize that is stupid.

So happy Valentine’s Day, everyone. And if today is a sucktastic day for you, remember: tomorrow, the Valentine’s Day chocolate goes 50% off at the stores, yo.

50% off!!!!!

50% off!!!!!

Also, Very Short and Very Assholey David: I hope you are bitten by a bitey snake with sharp teeth. Or fall in a hole. Either way’s cool with me.

(Also, since this is the day of love: dear my loved ones, I love you so much it makes my whole heart ache with it. Thank you for…well, everything. I would be nowhere and nothing without you. You are better than all the poorly-dyed carnations delivered to me in homeroom in the whole world. I wouldn’t give you up for anything.)

Also, I found this on the interwebs; I think it is for me. Yay!

It's a little creepy, but we take what we can get, right? Right.

It’s a little creepy, but we take what we can get, right? Right.

About lucysfootball

I'm not the girl with the most cake. Someday. SOMEDAY. View all posts by lucysfootball

26 responses to “A very romantic love story, circa high school, for your Valentine’s Day pleasure

  • David Jón Fuller

    I think the only time I was actually dating someone on V-Day in high school was in grade 10, about a week before we cataclysmically (shut up, I was 15) broke up. I was a Valentine’s atheist for years afterwards. But I did like the chocolate…


    • Charleen

      I was never dating anyone on Valentine’s Day in high school. All through college I was in a long-distance relationship. The first Valentine’s Day we were actually living in the same place was two months before our wedding so I was probably too flipped out to actually enjoy it. And then we were married and it was sort of like, meh, Valentine’s Day, whatevs… I mean, we don’t ignore it, but it’s never really a huge thing for us. Besides, our anniversary is (as I mentioned) two months away, so if we’re going to really celebrate something I’d rather celebrate that.


    • lucysfootball

      Oh, no, everything’s cataclysmic when you’re 15. Absolutely. And of course you liked the chocolate. Chocolate is GRAND.


  • mfennvt

    Your friend M is awesome. As are you. Happy Valentine’s Day!


  • Andreas Heinakroon

    They’ve been trying to introduce your valentine’s day here as well, and it looks like they’re succeeding. People are already asking what you’re planning to do for valentine’s, as if we’ve always been celebrating it.

    As soon as they get you to feel guilty for not honouring it, they’ve won.


  • sj

    Oh, man.

    I didn’t have a Valentine until husband. So…

    Wait, I lied. In high school, my friend Nick and I decided that we’d be each others’ goddamn valentines and we were. And we made each other sarcastic valentines and waved them around and laughed at everyone else.

    So. There was that.


  • becomingcliche

    Want to hear something crazy? I did marry my first boyfriend.


  • handflapper

    Aw, I would totally punch that short asshole in the junk for you. This is somewhat similar to my first boyfriend experience, right down to the kissing. That asshole eventually apologized to me, but I suspect he’s still an asshole because he’s always trying to chat me up on Facebook and I’m pretty sure his wife has no idea.


    • lucysfootball

      Didn’t these people watch tv? THAT IS NOT HOW KISSING WORKS!!!

      Ew, no thank you to the chatting up on Facebook. That’s just skeevy. You should tell him you’ve been kissed properly now and have no interest in going back.


  • blogginglily

    Very short David kisses the way Lily kisses with the possible exception that she just pecks. But she doesn’t do that right. She just moves her mouth next to you and touches you with it.

    actually it’s an even bet whether she elects to bite you or kiss you, so there’s a neat element of surprise.

    Recently she’s started making the kissing noise after her kisses though. So it’s like she kisses you then stand back and says either “mwah” or makes that noise. Which is cute, because it’s like someone who can’t snap his fingers (she totally can) making the attempt and then like a second later saying “Snap”.


  • 35JupiterDrive

    You know I dated short, not particularly masculine looking guys who were okay at Valentine’s Day and I was all meh and then one day I realized the problem was that they were guys. Aha!

    Then about 20 years ago, my then girlfriend got talked in to sending me flowers to work by one of my best friends who was a gay floral designer (don’t say florist. RIP Farrell … or wait, don’t RIP- rip up the dance floor there, Farrell!)

    So flowers (over the top, insane with curly sparkly things everywhere because Farrell, help me, wanted them to be memorable so he made them extra fancy) were sent to work where I was deeply in the closet and I got asked who they were from all day long and I wanted to be stabby with everyone. I spent the day mumbling about my personal life being personal and people thinking I was a jerk. And my boss was annoyed with me for not comparing relationship notes. And the GF who worked for her family’s business (who hated me because they thought their butch daughter should find a nice guy and settle down and it was my fault she wasn’t doing that) and Farrell (who was out, out, out at work because … well, florist, er floral designer) couldn’t figure out why I was upset that I almost lost my job over flowers. (Which I almost did.)

    So it really never works out. Flowers, no flowers. It’s just a problem.

    And those are the only flowers or whatever that I remember from Valentine’s Day. So, generally, unsuccessful.

    That said, happy 50% off candy day!!!!! (And I’m across from a drug store. Yes!) Also, I would totally send you dyed carnations to your home room. And then we’d be suspended. Because that’s how it works.


    • lucysfootball

      That story makes me sad. But yes, I agree, the whole holiday is icky and shouldn’t happen. It just causes hurt feelings, or feelings of inadequacy, or various sadnesses.

      I didn’t even get to the drugstore for the candy today! By the time I get there, all they’ll have left is conversation hearts, I just know it. Blergh.

      We would have gotten suspended at my school, because ZOMG THE GAYS!?!?!? But my grandfather’s best friend = the high school principal. I got away with a LOT of crap I shouldn’t have, because he couldn’t resist me. “AMY!” he would scold. “You know I cannot punish you, your grandfather would KILL me!” And on my merry way I went. So spoiled, I was. So, no suspension, Mr. Perkins (rest in peace, my lovely Mr. Perkins, who was always very kind to wee bullied Amy) would take care of it for us and just smile winningly.


%d bloggers like this: