"History will be kind to me if I intend to write it." Bah, what's Churchill know anyway? He was just some stodgy old man.
So far the New Year has consisted of a break-up, a best friend who hates me, and the wrath of the entire varsity football team. I'm thinking my role as editor-in-chief of the Parker County High School Tribune has done little to squelch this karmic downpout. And all for what reason? Because I thought being honest was the right thing to do? Take it from me, HONESTY GETS YOU NO WHERE.
Jonathan was my boyfriend (emphasis on the was) until I decided to tell him about one tiny little indiscretion I had at the New Year's Eve party. I thought that by telling him we could deal with it and move on. Hell, we'd been together since our sophomore year, two years was nothing to throw away, and I wanted to be truthful. Because, as I told him, it really MEANT NOTHING.
Sara, my best friend, thought it would be funny to spike the punch at Carianne Jacobs NYE Party. Little did she know, that two other well-meaning patrons had the exact same idea. Result? One drink in and I was already super smammered. Once midnight approaches, my recollection gets a little fuzzier, but I do distincly remember kissing someone at the stroke of midnight. The only problem with that is, Jonathan wasn't at the party. He was in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida with his family for the holidays. So, even though I am not certain WHO it was I kissed, I can be certain it WASN'T Jonathan. And now that I've come clean, he's left me.
When Sara finally managed to get me home that night, after much hysterical crying on my part and brute force on hers, I spent the majority of the evening face down on my bathroom floor begging the room to stop spinning. The next morning my parents found me in my weakened state and immediately turned on the third degree, under great pressure and threat of forcing me off the newspaper staff, I might have let it slip that Sara was the person who spiked the punch (I didn't know about the other neredowells at the time). So, my parents promptly called Sara's and she ended up grounded for the next two months. Needless to say, she is no longer speaking to me.
That brings me to the football team. Apparently, though Jonathan had all the anger and strength to not only break up with me, but to yell for at least an hour about how selfish and careless I was, he can't seem to get his shit together on the football field any more. Sources tell me that he's been spacing out at practice, botching easy passes, and all together sucking majorly ever since the break-up. I keep telling people that HE broke up with ME (I know not the normal saving-face reaction, but what can I say, I'm a giver) and that I wanted to work things out. No one seems to share my perspective, however, and I have come to appreciate Hester Prynne in a way I never thought possible. Worst part about it? I'm covering the State Championship football game this weekend and if they lose I'll probably need a police escort to make it safely through the hordes of angry fans.
"History will be kind to me if I intend to write it." Bah, what's Churchill know anyway? He was just some stodgy old man.
ReplyDeleteSo far the New Year has consisted of a break-up, a best friend who hates me, and the wrath of the entire varsity football team. I'm thinking my role as editor-in-chief of the Parker County High School Tribune has done little to squelch this karmic downpout. And all for what reason? Because I thought being honest was the right thing to do? Take it from me, HONESTY GETS YOU NO WHERE.
Jonathan was my boyfriend (emphasis on the was) until I decided to tell him about one tiny little indiscretion I had at the New Year's Eve party. I thought that by telling him we could deal with it and move on. Hell, we'd been together since our sophomore year, two years was nothing to throw away, and I wanted to be truthful. Because, as I told him, it really MEANT NOTHING.
Sara, my best friend, thought it would be funny to spike the punch at Carianne Jacobs NYE Party. Little did she know, that two other well-meaning patrons had the exact same idea. Result? One drink in and I was already super smammered. Once midnight approaches, my recollection gets a little fuzzier, but I do distincly remember kissing someone at the stroke of midnight. The only problem with that is, Jonathan wasn't at the party. He was in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida with his family for the holidays. So, even though I am not certain WHO it was I kissed, I can be certain it WASN'T Jonathan. And now that I've come clean, he's left me.
When Sara finally managed to get me home that night, after much hysterical crying on my part and brute force on hers, I spent the majority of the evening face down on my bathroom floor begging the room to stop spinning. The next morning my parents found me in my weakened state and immediately turned on the third degree, under great pressure and threat of forcing me off the newspaper staff, I might have let it slip that Sara was the person who spiked the punch (I didn't know about the other neredowells at the time). So, my parents promptly called Sara's and she ended up grounded for the next two months. Needless to say, she is no longer speaking to me.
That brings me to the football team. Apparently, though Jonathan had all the anger and strength to not only break up with me, but to yell for at least an hour about how selfish and careless I was, he can't seem to get his shit together on the football field any more. Sources tell me that he's been spacing out at practice, botching easy passes, and all together sucking majorly ever since the break-up. I keep telling people that HE broke up with ME (I know not the normal saving-face reaction, but what can I say, I'm a giver) and that I wanted to work things out. No one seems to share my perspective, however, and I have come to appreciate Hester Prynne in a way I never thought possible. Worst part about it? I'm covering the State Championship football game this weekend and if they lose I'll probably need a police escort to make it safely through the hordes of angry fans.
So yeah, Churchill, you can go ahead and suck it.
Emily, BRILLIANT!! Glad to see you back! I've got to do the same.
ReplyDeleteNice. I like it. LOL. Plus, I've always personally thought that last line.
ReplyDeleteSo, uhh, who did she kiss?
I have no idea who she kissed... Hmm? What do you think? Band geek? Rival high school's QB? A vampire... just kidding.
ReplyDelete