(Before I begin, I hope you are all respecting the clover today and wearing your Green Garb. If not, shame on you.)
Down to business...
I have failed to participate in Tova's Totally Awkward Tuesday for awhile, but I had a flash of memory last night at the grocery store and decided to share.
Cuz it's a good one.
So, let's turn the clock back to freshman year of college. 1999. Good times.
The best thing about college, of course is this: your boyfriend can sleep over.
Now, I must tell you that early in college I was still a relatively innocent gal. I wasn't like, the driven snow or anything, but I was relatively shy about certain aspects of a relationship.
(Wow, I really am going to talk about this right now.)
Anyways, I had a boyfriend. The ex. We started dating in high school and subsequently dated for 7 years after that as well. But that's neither here nor there.
So, boyfriend and I lived 45 minutes apart during my freshman year of college. He remained at home, I lived in a dorm.
One day, my Mom called to inform me that she and my Dad were going out of town for the weekend. Would I mind coming home and watching the house for them?
Parents out of town means one thing and one thing only: Boyfriend can come over.
(Loosely translated: no dorm bed.)
In my excitement, I called my roommate, Erin, and told her of my good fortune. What should I do?
Being the love machine that she is, Erin suggested I give him a special treat. She's all, "You should get a sexy outfit and feed him strawberries!"
So I planned it all out. I would leave a proverbial trail of breadcrumbs for Boyfriend and he would find me and we'd make out and eat strawberries.
I carefully made little notes for him to find when he came over that would ultimately lead him to my bedroom.
(Remember, I was still pretty innocent, so these notes were ridiculously cheesy. Things like, "Go to the microwave and find something to really heat things up!" And the item he found would be, like, a pair of slippers.
The last note I left for Boyfriend went something like this:
"Go to the refrigerator and find something sweet and juicy! Then come find me in my room and get ready to be blown away!"
(Clearly my writing skills were not the honed awesomeness you all witness today.)
Okay, so the night comes. And it all goes wrong.
The Boyfriend is 25 minutes late and we end up arguing half the time anyway. If memory serves, we did go through the motions of the "note hunt" but the strawberries never even made it out of the fridge.
The next morning, Boyfriend and I clean the house. I thoroughly check each note place to make sure all evidence of anything that would put my mother in an early grave has been removed.
Satisfied, Boyfriend and I leave and go over to his house.
Later that afternoon, Boyfriend and I go to the grocery store for some dinner essentials. (Pizza, beer, ice cream.) As we browse the store, we pass through the produce section.
My eyes land on the strawberries. And my stomach drops.
Immediately my brain sets on fire. Did I get the bowl of strawberries with the NOTE SITTING ON TOP out of the fridge? Did I even OPEN the fridge this morning?
As if on cue, my cell phone rings.
It is my mother.
Knowing I have to face the music, I answer the phone. It went something like this:
Me: (sweating profusely) Hey, Mom! Did you guys have a good time?
Mom: (irritated) Yes, we had a fine time. I'm just in the kitchen making your Dad a sandwich and I found -"
Me: Cool! (thinking fast) Oh! While you're in there, can you tell me if there's a bowl of strawberries with a note on the top?
Mom: (calmly) Yes. There is. What is this? Did Boyfriend come over last night?
Me: (gripping my hands into fists and praying to God) Well, he was supposed to! But he never made it. See, (racking brain) he was going to come over and I was going to...um...give him a really, really nice back massage! (Did I just say back massage?) I was leaving the strawberries for him to eat while I did that, but he never made it over. He and his Dad got in a fight and that's why the bowl is still full. (Mentally thanking God we never got to the strawberries the night prior. It solidified my ludicrous story.)
Mom: (sighing from relief or absolute disgust.) Well...okay. In the future, when we aren't home, Boyfriend is not to be here overnight. And in the future, save the notes for his parents to find.
Me: Right! Sounds good, have a great day!
I'm pretty sure my mom knew I was completely full of it, but really, what do you expect from an 18 year old girl full of hormones and dating a boy?
The moral to this story: A bowl of strawberries in a fridge are always better than a bun in the oven.