Now moving from a town of 250 to 7,000 a few years before was a huge improvement, but this was a whole new level. Guys in my new school dressed up. Not shirts and ties or anything, (as if!) but they wore what would equate today to office casual. Dockers or designer jeans, nice button down shirts, sweaters, etc. Back home? Faded jeans and tshirts...with the odd flannel here and there.
I was in girl Heaven. These guys were better looking, better groomed, more worldly and sophisticated. My first day of school I was overwhelmed with the variety. Ahhhhh....I was going to love school!
First week of school (junior year) we were sent to the cafeteria to take some literacy tests. State law said we had to pass them to graduate. And since illiteracy was a problem, they started testing junior year to identify problem students to give them the extra help they needed.
Being a product of a good Iowa education, these tests were a breeze. So while waiting for time on oneof the tests to expire, I surveyed the room. So much eye candy in one room. I still wasn't used to this visual overload.
Then I saw him. Across the room. The most exquisite specimen of manliness I'd ever seen. Six foot three, (yeah, he was sitting down at the time, but I could tell he was tall and I later confirmed in the hallways). Sandy blonde hair, slightly wavy with perfect highlights which may or may not have come from a bottle. (Normally I prefer dark haired men, but I made an exception for this specimen. I couldn't see his eyes from across the room, but I later discovered they were hazel.
I learned his name was Brian. He was a senior, and his locker wasn't far from mine. I learned half the girls in the school were in love with him. I learned he came from a family with lotsa money. He drove a BMW to school, impressive for me at the time, but in Vegas, it wasn't that unusual.
So, I watched.
He seemed shy. He didn't talk much to anyone. I was shy! He could talk to ME!
Oh, to have him stopping by my locker and smiling at me, walking me to class even though it meant he'd be late for his.
About everything. Dropping secret admirer notes in his locker. (I wrote them, just never dropped them!)
About going to a football game with him.
About ... well, everything.
I knew we'd be perfect together, we just needed a chance to meet and talk.
My girlfriend worked in the Dean's office.
One day, when she was left alone, she pulled his file (completely her idea!)
She gave me his phone number.
It burned in my hand. I was scared to death, but I had it really bad.
So I rehearsed. I wrote out every possible conversation angle.
One night, after two weeks of
I asked for Brian.
I thought I would pass out waiting for him to pick up the phone. Sweaty palms, speeding heart, dry mouth.
And then...it happened! He picked up.
AND HE SOUNDED
LIKE A TWELVE YEAR OLD GIRL!!!!!
LIKE A TWELVE YEAR OLD GIRL!!!!!
Yes, this big beefy trophy to masculinity had a girl's voice.
I hung up.
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry!
A day or so later, I tried again. It couldn't have been that bad, surely. And maybe it was his sister coming to tell me he wasn't home or something.
So I psyched myself up again. Dialed the number. Asked for Brian.
And that same damn pre-pubescent girl voice picked up the phone.
I just couldn't do it.
I mean NONE of my fantasies involved a girl voice whispering sweet nothings in my ear.
So, I hung up again.
And never called back.
I moved on to Mark.