when God fearin' women get the blues

a few weekends ago, my future roommate and I decided to spend some quality time together. at grove city, that means head to the SAC and wait for someone to do something crazy. after a few hours of uneventful sitting, we headed back to my room and did maybe the best thing that's ever been done on a friday night: we wrote our very own teenage angst story, ala chicken soup for the teenage soul. we took turns writing paragraphs (or when i was lazy, i would write a sentence and hand it back to jennifer) and what resulted is a masterpiece in any critic's eyes.

instead of writing a blog about how i can't wait one more minute till break or why i am very glad that joel is finishing his last grad school visit (or at least his last visit without me) or how i am busily preparing for my life in nyc (let's face it, none of those are interesting for you to read or me to write) . . . i bring you our story. love it. hate it. whatever. we're submitting it and making a name for ourselves. theatre development? law school? please. we're serious writers. see for yourself . . .

tragedy strikes at the aquarium

when i woke up that morning, i envisioned a day like any other. when i cried myself to sleep that night, i knew my life had been changed forever. yes. yes indeed. when i broke up with my boyfriend of three months in front of the shark tank, it was a pain that my fourteen year old heart had never known before.

i didn't see it coming. from my young innocent eyes, he was everything i'd ever dreamed a pre-pubescent boyfriend would be. we ate lunch together, often on the same side of the table. sometimes, we'd manage to touch our sweaty hands on the way to class. he bought me a candy bar once. i figured it'd only be weekes before we'd get really serious: i mean, come on. he sent me carnations during the spanish club's valentine's day fundraiser, and nothing says that i plan to ask for your father's blessing in pursuing a marriage-minded dating relationship like three pink carnations tied together with a curling ribbon. impending true love, right? WRONG. wrong, wrong, wrong.

things started to go downhill when i saw him talking to emily after home ec last tuesday. i better explain who emily is. she's every pimple-faced, greasy haired, awkward bodied fourteen year old girls' nightmare. emily never had pimples. her hair always looks clean. she moved out of her training bra model ages before any of us even knew what that fabric was supposed to cover.

anyways, i saw them talking. later, i tried to ask zach (that's my boyfriend, well, ex-boyfriend) about it. our conversation went like this. i was like, "so, emily . . ." and he was all, "yeah, she's really cool, isn't she?" i was like, "whore! get away from my boyfriend and stop trying to make him think you're cool." except i only said that in my mind. actually, i tried to say it out loud, but it came out, "ah, huh . . yeah . . mrrr." but he knew. zach's perceptive like that, which is why i totally loved him and that that he would make such a good courtship partner, because he gets me. he knew. it was obvious that i was driven insane with jealousy. things just got awkward, right up until the fateful day of the shark tank heartbreak.

i thought it would be the day when everything would go back to the way it used to be. we'd forget about emily and her whoring ways. who knows - we might even sneak a kiss behind the display on goldfish inbreeding. but none of that happened. instead, when we were in front of the kissing fish tank, he looked deep into my eyes, and i could tell something big was going to happen and my stomach started flipping and my heart was just like racing like i ran seven miles or something and i had a premonition that all of my hopes and dreams for taking our relationship to the next level were going to come true!!!

he sighed romantically and said, "emily, do you know you're beautiful?"

i felt like he had punched me in the stomach and spit in my hair and told everyone about the time i got my period in homeroom - all at once. yes, all of those bad things combined could not have been worse than hearing him call me that ho-bag name on accident. he knew what he had done as soon as the words were out of his mouth, but by then it was too late. i ran, sobbing, to the shark tank.

he followed, sheepishly. i said, "zach, how could you do that? i've never once called you 'brad,' even though i've thought he was the hottest guy to live since nick carter. how would you like that, huh?"

he didn't even cry. he's so strong like that. he turned to me and said, with that fearless look in his eyes, "i was gonna do this next week, but i guess now is as good a time as any."

my heart pounded. was he going to propose?

"i think we should break up."

AAIIIEEEEEAAAIIIAIIAAAAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!! that is the sound my soul made. i stomped out. i went home. i called him eleven times. his mom told me that it was too late to keep calling. i know for sure (for sure, for sure - just like i know that emily will get an STD before we get to tenth grade) that i will win him back. someday. you need hope, because without hope, you are all hopeless and dead inside. so i keep hoping and keep smiling, even though i have gone through more pain in one day than most people endure in their whole lives.

the end.