Dear Mr. Shumway: Thanks for not marrying me.
When I was in high school, I had the biggest crush on my chemistry teacher. Big enough that I was soooooo going to marry him.
Now, picture this. I was a complete and utter friendless dork in junior high. High school wasn’t much better. When my family moved up to Alaska a few years later, I decided I wasn’t going to be like that anymore. Of course, a crippling-shy personality didn’t exactly make that come true — I was still a total dork — but I did manage to gain some self-confidence.
At the same time, my high school got a new chemistry teacher, pretty much fresh out of college. And OMG, he was a dork, too. And kind of cute. And he blushed and got embarrassed pretty easily. And I fell hard hard hard.
I managed to score his teacher’s aide position the next year. (Crush aside, this was pretty awesome. It meant absolutely no homework.) I set up the labs for the next class. I graded tests. I cleaned out his fish tank. And I made plans.
They went something like this:
I was going to grow up, go to college, and return an awesome swan. He’d be all: OMG! You’re so amazing and I love you!!! Then every night we would go to his cabin (I don’t know if he had a cabin, but this was Alaska, and I know he had a dog and was the outdoorsy-type, so I assumed cabin) and revel in our dorky love.
(And, okay, maybe one day we’d have a Big Misunderstanding, and he’d think I was cheating on him, and despite my protests and claims of innocence, he’d call me a WHORESLUT and then I’d cry and run away from our cabin into the snowy woods, and then he’d feel sorry and come after me — but too late! Because I’d already be frozen to death and my tears dried into perfect little crystals on my cheeks, and he’d be sorry!)
Um. So.
One day he came back to school from a break and was married. I was devastated, but I decided to attend the same college that she did. (Brown. And no, I didn’t even apply there.)
Anyway, despite all of that, I’m glad he didn’t notice how awesome I was and sweep me into dorky bliss. I kind of like what I have now. And every time my husband calls me a whoreslut, we die laughing instead of freezing to death.
But I’d also like to thank:
Dar, the Beastmaster; Diana, the Visitor; Superman and Batman; Starbuck from the original BSG and Face from the A-Team; MacGyver; Zach Heffner in the fourth grade; Clint Johnson in the seventh grade; Lucivar; and Angelina Jolie from the moment I first saw her in Hackers, an otherwise horrid movie. Okay, and Starbuck from the new BSG, too.
Thank you for not marrying me.
