Blue,
I mean, I have approximately fifty gazillion most embarrassing moments, but this one is the literal worst. And I'm going to take you at your word that you're up for hearing this. Just remember: I warned you. Dun dun dunnnnnnn. So, I think I was six years old, and we were at the pool. It was a super-hot day, and it was really crowded. And-I actually remember this-I felt like I had to fart, so I just went for it. BUT THIS WAS NO MERE FART. It was…yeah. So, at the time, I figured it was just a turd, and therefore not a big deal, so I kind of shook it out of my bathing suit and kept swimming. (Yes, I was THAT kid.)
Anyway, OF CORSE someone saw it, and everyone freaked out, and it was this huge commotion. We all had to get out of the pool so they could disinfect it, and everyone was standing around their towels trying to figure out who did it. I honestly remember thinking, "Hooooooly fuck." (Okay, I was six, so it was probably more like "heck" and "dang." But seriously: FUUUUUUCK.) I was just like, "Dear God, do not let these people find out it was me."
Everything ended up taking so long that my dad decided to just bring us home. And I was actually relieved. Like, I was just so ready to get the fuck out of there, and so glad no one had ID'd the turd. I couldn't believe I'd gotten away with it.
But in the car on the way home, my dad starts singing: turd, turd, the turd is the word. And then we get to a red light, and he turns around and gives me this huge fucking wink.
HE KNEW
*Drops mic*
(Please still be my friend, Blue. I'm so much less gross these days.)
-Jacques
After reading that I actually start laughing. I mean I'm just sitting in the middle of study hall looking at my phone trying to suppress my laughter, and well failing at it. Before too many people notice I leave the room only to fall into a fit of laughter in the hallway. I know that I shouldn't be embarrassed or anything, someone explodes from laughter every five minutes here. Yet, I still decide to not go back to study hall and instead to just sit in my car and email Jacques back.
THAT WAS YOU?!
No, don't worry I didn't even live in Atlanta when we were six. ?That is tragically funny, Jacques. Though, now I'm worried you're going to be disappointed when I tell you mine.
So, I used to be really into Barney (the alleged "dinosaur sensation"). I had this really gross stuffed animal I carried around and slept with at night, and I used to chew on its hands when I was nervous. And, according to my mom, I spent the entire ride to kindergarten every day crying and begging her to let me bring Barney to school.
Well, one morning, I think she gave up, and she told me to just bring him. I remember hugging Barney in the car, feeling victorious. When I got to school I carried him all the way down the hall to the classroom, and then it suddenly hit me that this was the world's worst idea. Like, I was standing there in the doorway with everyone looking at me, and that was the moment I knew: Barney is the worst.
So, I did the only thing I could think of in that moment. I started gnawing on Barney's hand.
One thing I really love about moving here is that no one calls me dinosucker anymore.
-Blue
P.S. I did finally stop sleeping with Barney when I was about thirteen.
P.P.S No, I'm kidding. I was eleven.
P.P.P.S. And a half.
P.P.P.P.S. You still think I'm cool, right?
By the time I make it to soccer practice, I am completely whipped. All I want to do is collapse on my bed and binge watch Netflix for a few hours. Sadly, I have a few hours of drills to get through before I can get there. By the end of practice, I am covered in sweat, and I feel more whipped out then I have been in weeks. It takes all of my energy to drag myself to the car and get home. By the time I get home I see my mom sitting and crying on the couch. I immediately start to panic, she only cries when it's serious.
It took six hours, six hours of eating ice-cream, crying, and complaining about how unfair the world was for her to tell me what had happened. She finally stammered out that we had four months to get a 7,000-dollar payment to the bank or we will get evicted. For my mom, that is basically an impossible task. She works nine hours a day six days a week, and yet still it is barely enough to support us. We never had much money when I was growing up, and after my dad left we have had even more money troubles, but nothing like this. Even if my mom gets a second job and I get a job there is no way to get that much money. Unless we give up food and utilities. We have nowhere else to go in Georgia, my grandparents died a few years ago, and I'm pretty sure my dad wouldn't want us moving in with him. I have an aunt in Philadelphia that could let us stay there, at least until we could afford our own place again. But moving to Philadelphia means losing my friends, and shutting all doors to the possibility of me and Jacques. That thought may just be the worst thing that has ever popped into my head. I could lose Jacques.
