Ok, I got the hint. Due to the rather underwhelming response, I will keep the vomit stories to myself for the time being. Instead, I’m going to ruminate on lessons learned from my first crush.
Fourth grade. His name was Jake. He was soooooo dreamy. He was in my class. One day, after weeks of admiring him, I decided to do something about it. I’m not sure what I meant to accomplish, but I had to do something. I wrote The Note. You all know The Note, you’ve all probably written it at some point. But just in case you grew up as an orphan-child in a cave, here’s how it went:
Dear Jake,
I like you.
Do you like me?
check one: ___yes ___no
warmest regards,
Shannon
I pretended to be busy at my desk until all the other kids left for recess. The teacher wasn’t there. I was alone. My opportunity. I snuck over to Jake’s desk and put the precious note under the book on his desk. Then I went out to play with my friends, half giddy at my boldness and the possibility of a positive answer, half terrified that I would be rejected.
So after recess, I tried not to look at him, tried to pretend he didn’t exist. It didn’t take long before he found the note, at which time I instantly regretted giving it to him. I felt so stupid, I wanted to take it all back.
He reads the note, stands up, begins walking over. My heart feels like it’s doing that dance people do when they find their personal space has been invaded by a spider. Is he coming to tell me he likes me too?
He stops. At Laura’s desk. Laura had been very open about her warm regards for Jake. He hands her the note.
"Did you write this?" he asks.
"Ha. NO. Why don’t you go ask Shannon if she wrote it?"
He walks over to me, holds out the note. "Did you write this?"
I try to look cool. "Uh, NO. That’s totally weird."
I learned a lesson. Play it safe. I didn’t try anything like that again until Junior High. And that attempt at proclaiming love like-like ended with equally disasterous results. Those experiences, combined with growing up surrounded by four brothers who spent their days showing me what boys are really like, taught me to pretty much steer clear of them for most of my teens. Pathetic, I know, but it kept me out of trouble. I’m a delicate flower. I don’t take rejection very well. 
Feel free to share your stories about The Note. Please tell me I’m not the only one that tried it.Did it work out for you? Does it work out for anyone? Did I prematurely abandon a tactic that may have eventually proved successful and miss out on many happy moments with various crushes instead of becoming a bitter and spiteful teenager? Pretend you’re my therapist. Ready? Go.
6 Comments
Loved your vomit post! I can totally relate! My husband is a fireman so somehow is always away on a 24-hour-shifts when I am awakened to crying and walking into a room full of the dreaded smell and mess. I am such a wimp about it myself and totally freak out - I wear a big dish towel wrapped around my head to cover my nose and mouth and I definitely put everything chunks and all in the washer. Clean chunks are much better to deal with. I also have a beloved carpet cleaner.
Hope you and the other kids haven’t caught his stomach bug!
My “note” went the opposite way. I was on the receiving end of it. I remember it well. I was in kindergarten, and it was given to me by a boy named Johnny. Yuck! It was one of the most humiliating moments in my life. You see, writing is not one of a child’s best skills when they are in kindergarten, so this little boy felt the need to have his mother write the note for him. He brought it to school, and since reading is another skill that is not mastered by those in kindergarten he gave the note to the teacher to read for me. Talk about embarrassing! I’m quite sure that I turned the deepest shade of red.
Okay that was bad enough but it got worse. Several days later just happened to be the day for parent/teachers conferences. My mother conveniently ran into another mother while there. Yep, you guess it, Johnny’s mother. Of course she couldn’t help but tell the story to my mother, who in turn came home to share it with me AGAIN!
OH needless to say, he was NEVER my “boyfriend.”
I can’t say if this has affected me in any way throughout my lifetime, but I know that it was enough of an impact for me those many years ago that I haven’t forgotten about it, and I don’t look back on it fondly. Although at least now I can laugh and shake my head when I think about it.
My experience with “the note” was not exactly a note. It was a valentine card. 5th grade. I really liked a kid named Jason. Looking back, I have NO IDEA why I thought he was cute. I think it was because both he and his mom had a striking resemblance to the characters in a favorite childrens picture book of mine. Wierd. Anyways, on valentines day, I picked out my very favorite valentine and wrote “You’re cute” on the back. I didn’t sign my name. And I gave him about FIVE candy hearts in the envelope instead of my alotted two-per-person that were counted out exactly from the bulk valentine heart bag from mom. Ahhhh. So bold. I think the idea of an anonymous valentine card was something of an epiphany to me. So I decided to make all my card anonymous. To the boys anyways. And I even decided not to even put card inside the envelopes at all. I would just write notes on inside of the envelope flap. Notes like “you smell” and “you’re dumb”. And, if I didn’t even add a card. Why add candy? That left me to eat ALL the candy hearts alloted for the boys. 2 per person.
Ok, not the best idea I’ve ever had. Why didn’t I realize that all the boys would know it was me when I was the only person they didn’t get a card from in the whole class?
SHANNON–WHERE WERE YOU??? WHY DIDN’T YOU TALK ME OUT OF SUCH A STUPID IDEA??!!! Sorry…I guess that wasn’t a real good therapist-type thing to say….
I was also on the recieving end of The Note. First grade, Mrs. Saunders class. Jeremy and Matt wrote notes to me and my best friend, Chandra at the same time. I honestly can’t remember who wrote to whom though (I must have really been smitten, huh?). We did reply yes and thus began my troubled relationship with boys. Oh, the stories I could tell but never will!
the note
never ever
nope
although i like your approach to seem to not understand the question
excellent
i did call up jd after like 2 dates and ask him to come over
i said someone else asked me out
but i’d rather just date you and only you
but you have to just date me
so what do you think about that
he said ok
but part of him did kinda think - flee now, crazy chick
but now we are married and he has learned to live with crazy chick just fine
the end
kellicrowe
I can’t recall any experiences handing out “the Note” in elementary school. My experience heralds from the ninth grade. I recall planning a daring action when making sugar cookies to share with my friends on the last day of school before Christmas break. Out of the santas, reindeer, snowmen, and stars, I handcrafted a few heart shaped cookies which I would give to a certain crush before the Christmas assembly. This gesture would give the boy the hint of my regard for the boy and would result in his declaring his like for me, which then would snowball in a “hook-up”. Or so I dreamed.
The boy: His name was Scott. I don’t know why I liked him - I now remember him being a short, weasly kid with big, crooked teeth.
The moment of truth came in my last class - gym. My girl friends and I were waiting in the locker room for the bell to ring. We were munching on the cookies - someone reached out to take one of the hearts - I hastily mummbled something like “No wait, you can have any one but the heart ones!” Karly, which was not a very nice girl, knew that I had a secret crush on Scott- she sneered, “Why? Are they for Scott?” My face flushed, I laughed (my defence in any uncomfortable situation) and said little, if anything, to confirm or refute this accusation. The bell rang, we entered the gym to watch the assembly and I abandoned Project Love.
I went home. I looked in the bag of leftover cookies at the hearts - I ate them. I was instantly filled with delicious relief as I consumed the evidence of such a close call of embarassment. Little was I to know that my high school years would be filled with small scrapes and humiliation concerning puppy love. But at that moment, I was free with frosted sugar peace.
The Note, The Cookies are never worth the risk! Stay safe and far away from the boys!