I'm about to tell you a tale that you will be convinced has the happiest of endings. After all, it would seem that this romance was written in the stars.
The summer before my sophomore year of high school, I went camping with my family in the White Mountains. I'll just let that sink in for a second. Me...camping. I've already mentioned that I hate bugs. Some other things that I hate...wilderness, sleeping outside, community bathrooms. All of these things can be found camping. Although I love smores and the smell of a burning campfire, I love them in the comfort of a living room. Think less sitting on a fallen log and more sitting in a comfy armchair. So, add this to the fact that I was 15 years old and in my "Parents-are-so-embarrassing-little-sisters-are-so-annoying-I'm-angsty-where's-my-journal" phase, you have one sullen teenager on your hands.
The first day we got there, I went to mope by the lake, thinking of the awesome time that my friends at home were probably having without me and all the parties and trips to the mall that I was missing. My mother sat down beside me and said, "I have good news! Six sixteen-year-old boys just moved into the campsite next door." Before she even finished her sentence, I jumped up and Usain Bolted back to our campsite to examine the goods. Not only were they sixteen-year-old boys, they were hot, jocky, football-tossing sixteen-year-old boys. This nightmare was quickly becoming the best dream ever.
I spent the rest of the week trying to look cute and be wherever they were, hoping they would call me over to throw the old pigskin around. One particularly caught my eye. He was always wearing a UNLV sweatshirt. Of course, I didn't have the nerve to go talk to him. So, I settled for creepily gazing at him from afar, and laughing really loudly at all of my parents' stupid jokes, so that he could see how much fun I was to hang out with.
They were with one parental chaperone, a woman about my mother's age. One morning, I waited until I saw her leave for the shower. I grabbed my caddy, hoping to time it so that I would be standing behind her in line. Once there, I casually tapped her on the shoulder and said, "Oh hi! I think you're in the site next to mine." Soon we were engaged in conversation. I learned that they were from Haverhill, MA. They were all going to be juniors in high school. They were all on the football team. I was hoping that she would invite me to stop by, but she didn't take my many hints. A few days later, they left. As they drove away, I saw UNLV in the back of the minivan and he smiled. And I cried. That boy could have been the love of my life and there was nothing I could do to see him again! This was before Missed Connections of course.
Two years later, my parents and sisters returned to the campground. As I would soon be a high school senior, I was allowed to make the decision to stay home this time. Up at the campground, as my family was setting up their campsite, my mother began to talk to the guys in the next site over. She asked them where they were from: Haverhill. She asked them how old they were: 18. She asked them if they'd ever been to the White Mountains before: a couple of summers ago. She said, "That's really funny. We were here a couple of summers ago and we were next to a bunch of kids from Haverhill." And he responded, "That was us. I thought you guys looked familiar." And of course, my mother being the wing woman that she is said, "You need to come to the payphone [Note: haha, payphone] and we have to call my daughter."
They called me. I answered. I spoke to the guy that she had brought over to the payphone [Note: still can't write that with a straight face]. I asked him, "You probably won't know who I'm talking about, but one of you guys wore a black UNLV sweatshirt." And he responded, "Oh man, that's Mike. He still wears that f-in sweatshirt like every day."
I couldn't believe my luck! I thought that Mike and I must have been meant to be! So, why am I not married to him, you ask? Tune in next post!
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