Saturday, 06 August 2011

• No, This is Not a Porno: I Made Out with the Delivery Boy

  
  The day of my high school graduation party, my mom came into the living room and laughed.

  "You should see the cute delivery boy the catering company sent over," she said.

  I walked out into the back room in my pajamas and messy bun, took one glimpse at him, and took off through the house, up the stairs, and into my bedroom at record speed, ripping my hair tie out as I fled. I threw on a tank top and shorts, tossed some conditioner and gel in my crazy hair, and applied my makeup as fast as humanly possible.

  Simultaneously spraying my neck with Dior perfume and running down the staircase, I finally made it into the back room, looking like a different person in just five minutes. I stopped the marathon run just before the back door, composed myself, reminded my lungs to breathe slowly, and casually strolled out the back door.

  "Dad, did you put away my pink Coach flip flops that mommy bought me yesterday?" I yelled over to my dad, who was standing next to the pool and the two guys working. My plan worked. My dad answered me, and the two guys looked up. 

  The older one (mid-forties, chubby, and bearded) looked over at the "Congratulations" banner hanging from the garage and said, "Ah, you must be the graduate."

  "Yup, that's me," I said with a smile. "Finally!"

  "I assume high school graduation since you look so young?"

  "Yeah," I said, and laughed.

  "Where you going to college?"

  When I told him, he said, "Hey, Jack is a senior there." And then, turning to Jack, "You should tell her about the school," and winked.

  And that's when he spoke for the very first time. All soft-spoken and shy he said, "I'm sure she doesn't want to hear about school on the day of her party." Cue the adorable crooked smile and timid look away.

  "Actually, I don't know anyone going there, so any tips would be great," I said casually, smiling. All I could think was, Please don't ask me if I have a boyfriend! (which I did).

  "Oh okay, cool," he said calmly, and walked toward me with his thin, toned frame and dirty green eyes on me. He spoke to me about good professors, cheap restaurants, and who to avoid. I heard his first sentence and his last, and did a lot of hair twirling and "Uh huh"ing in between. I was totally mesmerized by him. When we ended our conversation, he finished setting up the catered food, and left twenty minutes later without getting my number. I was distraught.

  What had gone wrong? I was totally on my A-game and he was into me...why the lack of future correspondence? I walked into my house feeling pretty low when, all of a sudden, I heard my mom say, "Sure, it's right through the kitchen and down the stairs to your left." 

  Before I had a chance to even process what had happened, I saw him, standing in front of me, looking at me from the next room.

  "I, umm, just had to use the restroom, if that's okay," he said, peering down at me with those green eyes.

  "Of course," I said flustered, and pointed at the stairway leading to the basement.

  As he walked away, I grabbed a piece of paper from my printer, ripped a piece off, and wrote down my phone number and screen name (pre-Facebook, haha).

  When he walked up the stairs, I didn't give him a chance to speak (or myself a chance to chicken out). 

  "Here's my contact information...you know, in case you want to tell me a little more about which professors to take," I said, smiling nervously, handing him the piece of paper.

  And there's the crooked smile again. Ugh, heart flutter.

  "I will definitely do that."

  "So I can get into good classes," I said, with a smirk.

  "So you can get good classes," he repeated with a smile, nodding knowingly.

  We said goodbye (again) and I just about backflipped when he left.

  He IM'ed me a few days later and told me that he never had to use the bathroom. He was coming back to get my number, and was really happy when I handed it to him. We went on a date a few weeks later when my boyfriend and I had broken up (for other reasons), and seriously dated for the next 8 months.

  When he leaned down and kissed me for the very first time, all I could think was, "Haha, I'm making out with the delivery boy."

  Have you ever made out with the delivery boy? What happened?

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