Ok. Back to high school. My parents had gone out of town with my brother, leaving me at home in my house alllllll alone. But of course, because I was a ridiculously responsible child, I didn’t dream of throwing a kegger or an orgy or even have one friend over to watch a movie. How boring, I know. But I had to live with my father…and back then his favorite saying was “I’m your dad. And I know everything.” And I believed him.
There was this boy from a neighboring town. Arrogant Andy was tall, skinny, blonde, blue-eyed hottie. He worked at the pizza place we traditionally frequented after basketball and soccer games. He looked tragically cute in that visor and apron carrying out steaming hot round pans to our table, grinning and tossing his surfer-like hair.
I learned Arrogant Andy listened to hard, loud music like Silver Chair, of which I suddenly became a huge fan. I went out and bought several cassettes for my car. Obviously I wanted to seduce this boy. Cassette tapes will often do the trick.
One fateful night, Arrogant Andy invited me out. Impressing me from the beginning, he told me that he couldn’t drive and asked if I could come pick him up. (I think maybe that he had his license taken away because of illegal substances of some sort…) I was blinded by love and accepted without a second thought.
So we drove along in my car, Silver Chair blasting. We went out to eat and to the carwash. Lovely first date. As we were air-drying on the highway, Arrogant Andy started asking questions about where I lived: what my house was like, how far away it was…and he seemed interested…truly interested in seeing it. I, of course, wanting nothing more than appease this member of the opposite gender, offered to drive by. I reminded him that my parents were out of town (a fact of which I’m positively sure he had taken note).
We drove to my house. I am suddenly not aware of what is going on inside the car, as all I can concentrate on is what is going to happen (or not happen) when we arrive at my vacant house…with 3 beds and 5 couches and lots and lots of plush carpeting. “Did I mention no one was going to be home?” I sheepishly asked. Arrogant Andy appeared to be in a happy daze, most likely wet dreaming about the next 30 minutes of our lives.
“Ok, here it is…” I mutter as we drive past. He is suddenly at attention. “No wait, I would really like to see the inside. It must be beautiful!” I am easily bamboozled into thinking that this blond pizza pusher is interested in interior design and Victorian decorating.
Ten minutes later, after a sweaty-palmed tour of my very vacant house with even more pillows and couches than I remember, Arrogant Andy makes himself comfortable on one of these sofas. “So…are you going to come sit down?” “No. We should leave.” “Oh come on….let’s watch a movie.” “Ummm. Let’s not and say we did.” (a line from my father, who I suddenly more than ever wished was in the next room.) Arrogant Andy had to step up his game. “Seriously. Come over here.” At this point he looks down, smiling slyly while he unbuttons and unzips his stonewashed Levis. My head is spinning as he then runs a hand through his beautiful hair.
Now, I’m not saying that I had Zac Efron sitting on my blue vinyl sofa, but I do recall it to be pretty close to this scene. I quickly snap out of his trance and responsibly walked towards the door, jingling my keys. I turn to face the boy as he says boldly to me, “No one has EVER turned down ____ ____.” (insert name here)
I replied with an authority I didn’t recognize, “Well, I think someone just did. I’m going to the car.”