How Can You Forget That?

Last updated on: August 22, 2014 at 4:03 pm by Rebecca Frech

How Can You Forget That? 2014-08-22T16:03:34-05:00 Rebecca Frech

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The most embarrassing thing to ever happen to me (outside of childbirth which is it’s own kind of shame) occurred when I was 14 years old.

I looked very young for a Freshman in High School. Where other girls had been looking womanly since the sixth grade, I still had the figure of a little girl. This was in no way helped by my brace filled mouth or my appalling lack of style. I was a little girl and looked it.

I had the biggest crush on a guy I’ll call “L.” Charming and handsome, L was on the football team and enough to make me sigh in appreciation 20 years later. I knew I had no chance, but I just couldn’t stop myself from hero worship from afar. I lived for the days when he actually noticed me enough to say “hi.” I was smitten.

L’s lunch table was right next to mine, so every day I would get my nachos (the kind with the pump cheese and lots of jalapenos), big cup of Dr Pepper and a Little Debbie cake (How’s that for a healthy lunch?) and make the big loop around the cafeteria so that I had to walk past him to get to my table. I would look at him out of my peripheral vision as I approached, ready to look up and smile if he noticed me. He never did.

Then one day in October, I was paying so much attention to him that I didn’t notice his book bag sticking way out into the aisle. My foot caught and I flew forward, right into the nachos, right across his lap. As I sat up, gloppy yellow cheese ran down the front of my shirt and chips and peppers began to drop off onto the tray. My drink had splashed all over the front of his shirt. I still don’t know what happened to the chocolate cake. He was gracious and kind, helped me up and handed me napkins to try and clean the cheese off of my chest. He even managed not to laugh until I had begun to walk away. It was all I could do not to cry. I was mortified.

He friended me on Facebook last week. We chatted for a while on IM about our children and careers, where we live now and how we got there. I sat, still that awkward 14 year old of my memory, and worked up the courage to apologize for ruining his letterman jacket.

“What are you talking about?” he asked. “I have absolutely no memory of that.”

I was too stunned to even respond. How could he have forgotten something which was so important in my young life that the memory of it still haunts me? I don’t now what’s worse, falling into a tray of nachos across a cute guy’s lap, or that not even falling into nachos was enough to be remembered.

He asked around. All of his friends remember it and got a good chuckle. He just shrugged and said, “I don’t recall that at all. I just remember how cute you were with your blond curls.” Brunette! ….. I’m a brunette….and it’s straight.

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