It was freshman year. Thanks (in whole) to Stephanie Romine, I had just pledged Chi-Omega. My friend Rob, whom I had quickly fallen in love with (don’t tell him) was an SAE and he invited me to some little sister thing. I forget what it was exactly, but I remember well what I wore.
Red. And. Yellow.
Well, duh! Those are the Chi-O colors. I had on a red/yellow chi-o shirt, red/yellow chi-o socks, I’m thinking I was even sporting a red and yellow bow.
I was very proud of my Chi-O status.
And then I discovered that you don’t actually wear your sorority colors.
You wear different colors. Although, I’m still not sure I understand why, exactly.
And, evidently you don’t wear colored socks in college.
Then came the SAE Christmas formal. Looking back, I’m not exactly sure how this happened and I still cringe when I think about it. It was a set-up; an overnight thing….like we drove somewhere and I was in a car with people I didn’t know and a date that I didn’t know and good grief, did my parents know about this?
Anyway, we get to this dance and again, it’s been a while so it’s all fuzzy (fuzzy from time gone by, not fuzzy from alcohol. I was stone-cold sober for this horrifying event).
I think there was dancing. Surely I danced. But at the moment, I was sitting with friends (strangers) at a table and I looked up to see my date making out with another girl on the dance floor.
Yes, you read that right.
And it’s not like I can just go home. We’re out of town; sleeping over (although I never saw my date again, my guess is he did more than sleep).
And that was my first date in college.
Fast forward. I meet someone. A cute someone who played baseball for the Razorbacks. We date. I go home with him for Easter. We date some more.
He breaks my heart.
That summer, I decide to drive north to a little town in Nevada, Missouri to see him play baseball. I drive and I drive and I don’t tell anyone I’m going and my little black Ford probe just cruises along to the ball park.
I expected a big ball field. I expected wrong. Think little league park. An there are like 40 people there. And it’s hard to hide (stalk) — whatever — in a little town amongst 40 some-odd people.
And then a storm came. A bad one. And the people sitting next to me said you can’t drive home in this.
And so I went home with them. Strangers. And I visited with their son, also a baseball player, and I tried not to use my name on the hope of all hopes that the aforementioned “cute someone” wouldn’t know I had been there.
And the next morning my tire was flat and stranger-dad had to change it and for several years we exchanged Christmas cards.
And then I thought, this is so not a big deal. I will never be back. I will never have to re-live this lapse in judgement.
And then I moved to Nebraska. I drive through that town 8 to 10 times a year.
And I re-live.
And there’s more. Of course there’s more. These are just highlights.
So now, I want you to think of the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to you. I want you to think of the most embarrassing thing that has happened to someone else you know. I want you to think of something that could possibly be
And then you will know how I’m feeling today. My little SAE guy making out with another girl, my head to toe; socks to bows ensemble pales in comparison. There are no words. There’s been a lot of laughter and of course that sick feeling you get when you think you’re going to throw-up only you’re not sick and you don’t throw-up, you just go around feeling sick, and then again…
And putting your hands in your face and crying out to Jesus, “Really, Lord? Really?”
Wasn’t there another way?
I know what you’re thinking; what you are wondering. You are wondering what could possibly be worse than getting stuck in a two-bit town during the middle of a tornado while trying to spy on a ex-boyfriend and having to call your parents to tell them that you are spending the night at some very nice stranger’s house. So here goes.
When I started this blog, I committed to you that I would always tell the truth. And I will.
In my book. HALE YEAH! 🙂