John O’Hara

Middle school was pretty traumatizing. I had big cheeks, a Super Cuts haircut a la Tom Sawyer, and wore a buffalo nickle necklace I got on a family camping trip to Yellowstone National Park. None of this necessarily made me popular. And despite (or perhaps with concurrance) the logic and irregular mathematics of adolescence, I was determined to hang out with the cool crowd. They were mean, obnoxious, entitled. I was desperate to be like them. Of course, in hindsight, I should have run for the hills. Had i done so, I would be writing this blog in Mandarin or Portugese or one of the other five languages I had picked up in the excruciating time of my young lonliness. Instead I had my mom buy me a Nash Skateboard for Christmas and a plastic guitar from JC Penneys so I could attempt to woo people like John O’Hara. I would talk to him on the phone for hours in my bathroom about to Voo Doo Glow Skulls, pretending I knew who the fuck they were. My version of good music in 7th grade was Third Eye Blind and Everclear.
We never actually dated, but I thought we were en route to something magical. I thought after 762 phone hours he would ask me to the movies or kiss me in the girl’s lockerroom like Chad and Samantha did when they were dating. But I lost the battle. In between classes one day during the social anxiety frenzy that occurs between history and science class, I found out he had started dating Melissa Mandel. Blonde, short, big boobed, loud mouthed Melissa Mandel. I was temporarily crushed, as I remained for the most of that time in my life…a span that lasted from approximately 1997 to 1999. And I never did learn how to skateboard.

Standard

One thought on “John O’Hara

  1. LOLZ says:

    This absolutely cracked me up! I’m currently sitting in a very crowded food aid conference dying to go home and this post made my day. Oh the memories of my crush on Nick Desmet came flooding back. Thank you for the laugh 🙂 Your blog is highly entertaining.
    -Ellie

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s