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Let The Mocking Begin

Welcome to day 23 of 30 Days of Writing, a creative writing challenge that never ends.  Our prompt today is “Stiletto heels”.  No, this wasn’t my suggestion. But I wasn’t going to turn it down, obviously. Hey, you’re lucky this wasn’t 30 Days of Writing About Shoes! Don’t forget to link up at the end of this post if you’ve participated in today’s challenge.

Let The Mocking Begin

After 22 days, I’m finally doing it. I am re-posting. I wrote this back in April, 2011, so some of you may not have seen it before. I know, I know! This should be an easy subject for me today. At the risk of whining, I’m a little tired. So, I’m going to be the hostess who throws a huge party, then abandons her guests and goes to bed. Literally.

They Call It Puppy Love, I Call It A Bitch

black strappy high heels, tango shoes, rose, mystique shoes

I think these shoes would be perfect for dancing the tango. We didn’t tango much in junior high.

When I was 13 years old, I fell in love. His name was John and there wasn’t a single girl in my class who didn’t lust after him. I pined, I yearned, I longed for him with every fibre of my awkward, shy, chubby 13-year old stupid being. In my daydreams, I would be at one of our school dances and John would walk in, past the row of adoring pretty girls, and up to me. He would ask me to dance. We would dance while all the other girls looked on, green with envy. He would fall in love with me and we would live happily ever after.

Of course, that never ended up happening.

What did end up happening was John became aware of my constant stares and my inability to form coherent sentences in his presence. Being a 14-year old boy, and an ass, John took to mocking me with his friends. I took it as a positive sign. He knew I was alive and boys always tease the girls they like, right? I did mention I was 13, stupid, and he was an ass, didn’t I?

One day, John stepped it up a notch. He called me a particularly nasty name and told me nobody liked me. Of course, he said this in front of everyone, during class. I was humiliated. Worse, I was heartbroken. I sat like a stone through the remainder of the class, looking straight ahead, unable to breathe because my chest felt so tight and mentally yelling at myself that I had better NOT cry because I was an idiot and that would just prove to everybody what an idiot I was.

I didn’t cry. I also didn’t love John anymore.

Fast forward about 15 years. I was going to a party one night and on the way, I stopped at a convenience store to pick up some essentials (wine and smokes). I walk in and low and behold, the first face I see is John’s. Before I could pretend not to recognize him, he started chatting, asking how I’ve been, what I’d been up to since high school, did I still see any of the “old gang”.

As we were talking, I noticed several things. John was fat. John’s hair was greasy and thinning. It was Saturday night and John was wearing sweatpants with holes in them. John’s eyes were bloodshot. John was a little smelly.

Then I noticed John was checking me out. I was wearing a slinky black dress, fabulous black stiletto heels, and my hair and make-up were perfect. I looked damn good, even if I do say so myself. John apparently agreed with my assessment.

I told him I had to get going, there were people waiting for me. I flashed a hundred watt smile at him. I told him it was good to see him and that I hoped he was doing well and I started to walk away. And, I freely admit, I swooshed my hips side to side as I did. John asked me to hold up a minute. He was wondering if I was single. I said I was, even though I wasn’t. He told me he’d love to get together some time, maybe go for drinks, and he offered me his phone number. I flashed another smile, said no thanks and walked out the door.

He didn’t cry. He also didn’t love me anymore either.

 

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Now teeter on over and visit the other talented folks who have joined in this challenge. And tell them everyone gets 250 points for their post and another 500 points today, for keeping it down while I sleep. 🙂

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  • Ha ha ha!  Oh how I LOVE this!

    I once went out with a very good looking guy. I packed him up, because he KNEW how good looking he was and was always referring to it. I hate arrogance.  We bumped into him about 8 years later and he was also very fat, balding and had pretty much lost his looks. How I love it when that happens 🙂

  • Karma’s a bitch with a sense of humor. Love, love, love to hear stories like this.

  • I’d like his last name and address.  I’m taking out a hit on him.  Or making Alex get his ass sent to Gitmo.  Either.  Or.

  • You rock!!!!  Haha, John, you fat smelly loser!!

  • That ending is too perfect to be believed -so I’m tempted not to.
    Did you really live every woman’s (& some men’s too I’d wager) dream of avenging ‘the one who didn’t want me’?

  • Sometimes the universe just works out a way to make things right.  Yay!!!

  • That was exactly it, Babs. John knew he was good-looking in high school and it made him more than arrogant, it made him cruel. When I ran into him again, I couldn’t believe how he’d aged so badly. It was awesome 🙂

  • I just wish there were more of them, Lauren. Unfortunately, Karma usually works her sense of humour against me, not for me. 🙂

  • Ha! You said something very similar when I first posted this. No worries, hon. I think John has paid in spades for his crimes. 🙂

  • Thanks, Nicki. I think lady luck had a bit to do with it.

  • You know, I seem to remember that you didn’t believe this story the first time around either. It’s very true, God. After all, would I lie to YOU?

  • Exactly, Cheryl. And I love that you have him in socks and sandals! Too funny 🙂

  • I remember reading that and thinking good for you!   Everyone changes after high school, one way or another.  Some of us keep changing.  I had my first pair of wedge heeled sandals in high school.  They were OK, but I did have to learn how to walk in them and they weren’t all that high.  Most of my shoes with heels have been about an inch.  Not not very daring, but at least I could walk.

    Yesterday, just for the fun of it I tried on a pair of stilettos as research for today’s post.  They were a size up from my normal size, but I still had to squish my toes into them.  Then I walked, only one wouldn’t call what I was doing walking.  I teetered around a few steps and confirmed, that having tried them, they are not for me. 

  • I don’t remember ever hearing this story before -are you sure I was the doubting Thomas?

  • You freaking GO GIRL!!!

  •  Thanks, Katherine! 🙂

  • You know what, Linda? I absolutely LOVE that you tried on a pair as research! Really, it makes me happy. 🙂

  • Again you don’t believe me? I’m starting to get a complex God. Here, see for yourself:

    http://www.weworkforcheese.com/2011/04/aboutlove/

  • Oh hell yes, I remember this post. I loved it when I 1st read it, and I still love it!

  • It is a feel good story, isn’t it? Well, except to John, I suppose. But who cares about him anyway?!

  • Yeah, no one cares about him!

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