The Dangers of Root Beer

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Note: As always, follow my journey on my personal blog, So about what I said...

Please note: The following story occurred when I was a very young, very naïve 26-year-old. I’ve since blossomed into a mature 28-year-old.

Last summer, I had the pleasure of revisiting my giggly googly-eyed school girl days. We’re talking full-on red-faced, body fidgeting here (please note my inner teen coming out in the form of italics for the purposes of this story). I actually owe it all to Crush Boy. I’m sure you remember reading about his visit to my house. If not, allow me to help you relive the glory.

OMG, Crush Boy is in my house.

Cliff’s notes backstory: Crush Boy and I had known each other since we were 13. Our parents were friends, and I somehow found myself falling in love with him instantly one night; well, maybe it wasn’t love exactly, but it was certainly the seventh-grade equivalent. The years rolled by, and I never told him (until he read about himself on my blog a few months ago, but that’s a topic for another time and another column – a very loooong column) because I was sure my disability would cause him to run in the other direction.  

Anyway. flash-forward to that fateful day he and his laptop came for a visit. He’d come over to use our computer to test some sort of new webcam on his laptop (not the kinky kind, of course). I should probably mention the very sight of seeing him carry his laptop as he made his way to our front door was incredibly hot in itself (geeks are the sexiest, remember?!?!?). Well, I suppose it’s up to me to act as host, I thought (cue sarcasm). I made like one of those actresses in movies who makes sure her hair and face look good, and then open the door with a smile. OK, my smile may have bordered on beaming, but I still maintain there is no shame whatsoever in that.

I led him to the computer, which, ironically, is in my room.

OMG, Crush Boy is in my bedroom.

I tried to stay out of his way while he worked his magic (on the computer, people!), but I found myself stealing glimpses every few seconds. The way his eyes seemed poised deep in thought. The way his face looked, a look that told the world he knew exactly what he was doing. Who knew a man working on a computer is even hotter than a whistling construction worker on a hot, sweaty and sunny day?

OMG, Crush Boy is touching my computer.

I figured he’d only be here for a little bit, you know, test the webcam, and then be on his merry way. Turns out, things were just beginning. Somehow, we got to talking about the music on his computer, and before I knew it, we’re going through the thousands of songs and he’s putting my favorite songs in a folder to put on my computer.

OMG, Crush Boy and I like the same songs!

And then, of course, my dorkiness came out. You know it was bound to happen sooner or later; I can only keep it at bay for so long. This is the dialogue as I remember it (Funny, but things seem to go by in a haze whenever I’m around this guy).

“Would you like something to drink?” I asked, of course trying to be all nonchalant about the whole thing.

“Sure, want to split a can of Diet Barq’s Root Beer?” he replied.