hmmm...

When I was in 3rd grade I remember being befriended by this brown hair boy. I think his name was Nick. Anyway, It was a big deal to have him be my friend, because when I was in 3rd grade I didn't have many friends. Especially not friends like Nick. Nick was one of those charismatic kids that was friends with everyone, and could get away with anything - even befriending the class nerd. I was so happy. He talked to me and played and we even passed notes. He got my jokes and it was great. We laughed a lot.

Well, one day, not realizing that the level of friendship he had with me was the same as everyone else's - nothing special. I decided to pass him one of THOSE notes. You know the notes with the check boxes: yes, no, maybe?

I thought I was going to finally have a boy want to "go out with me" (looking back I can't believe 3rd graders "go out") so I took out my pink pen and wrote the words you can't take back:

I like you, do you like me? Yes, No, Maybe (please check one).

I was hopeful. I took a risk.

I folded up my note like a triangle and wrote on the outside to: Nick from:Teresa and passed it to him under the table.

I saw him unwrap the folded paper and read it as his face turned red. He quickly checked a box and re folded and addressed the note. When he passed it to me I held my breath. I hoped, I hoped and I opened up the note. The box checked was no. My little 3rd grade hands quivered a little. I barely held back the tears and ran to the bathroom. I waited until the ugly cry subsided and came back out into class. The room was filled with ribbing and knowing glances and giggles. I felt rejection and humiliation in a way my little child heart had never known before that point. I knew my friendship was over with Nick.

Looking back to that situation, there are many things I'd like to tell my 3rd grade self. I'd like to tell her about all the boys that will like her and pursue her someday, I'd like to show her pictures of the places that she'll go that she only dreams of and tell her stories of how some of those that mocked her ended up (that's pretty petty though). I'd like to comfort her with tales of men's magazine editors and the rich and the glamorous people that she'll make out with, and date and meet. I'd like to sit her down and tell her about the days in the future when she's a flight attendant and hit on all day by guys much better looking and just as funny as little 3rd grade Nick.

But I wouldn't want to tell her about the emptiness she'll feel after she makes out with one of those random glamorous dudes. I wouldn't want to tell her about the places she'll go that she dreams about - she goes usually alone and never with a hand to hold.

I don't want to tell her that still, over years later at 31 years old when feeling like she is totally fine, secure, confident and happy - she will find herself repeating the same old tired 3rd grade story all over again. Only instead of a note it's a instant message and a email.

That's pretty much the only difference.

How's that for a little Wednesday night vulnerability...:)

-----yes, yes, I may delete this when I think better of it-----