Praying for a Hole in the Earth

Gutsy Writer recently challenged her readers to remember their most embarrassing moment and then share it with the world. At first glance, this would seem like a simple task until you realize just how many times I have prayed for death so as to escape ultimate humiliation. I still have regular moments when I remember things I said and the exact looks on people’s faces as I said them and pray for a time machine so I can beat that younger, far more naïve version of me with a club.

Many people might erroneously assume that I can’t be embarrassed. After all, I’m the girl who refers to herself as “Fat Girl,” and thought that my “Footloose” solo in grade eight was cool. I am, when all is said and done, the girl who embarrasses herself just about every day without meaning to. Which only makes it more difficult to narrow down my list to this one earth swallowing moment.

Moment Number 732

When I was in grade eight, my class had 21 kids, most of whose names I can still recall to this day. I had known at least half of them since kindergarten, including Sven Rabbie on whom I had been crushing pretty much since the moment we had met. I briefly flirted with “like liking” other boys but my heart always returned, somewhat pathetically, to Sven.

By the time of our final school dance, Sven was dating Cathy for several months. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t moping about their handholding status – I wasn’t that lame! We were all friends and played foot hockey at recess and took the TTC home together. Dating was something done during school dances or on the weekends.

That day in the gym, I was being something of a wallflower and wasn’t keen to ask anyone to dance. After all, who would support the wall to the right of the stage if I didn’t stand there? (Yes, I actually remember exactly where I was standing.)

Groups danced together during the fast songs but no one was going to go out of their way to ask me to join them during the slow ones. I didn’t mind since there were good snacks and I was enjoying the music. No matter how I felt, I evidently looked fairly wretched because after an hour of fast dances and several handfuls of cheesies Sven approached me.

“Do you want to dance?” he asked carelessly. At the time, I failed to notice the looks he kept throwing over his shoulder. The desperation in his voice.

“Sure!” I replied hesitantly. “But won’t Cathy…”

“It’s cool,” he smiled.

I took his hand as we made our way to the dance floor. I put my hands around his neck and swayed in time with the music. A minute or so later, I noticed my friends Marie, Chrissie, and Jenny, standing together whispering. Pointing discreetly. The light dawned and I knew what was happening.

“Sven, did you want to dance with me?” I asked trying not to cry.

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Did they ask you to ask me? Is this a pity thing?” By now I had stopped swaying and was embarrassingly close to tears.

“They just wanted you to smile.”

“Thanks. You’ve danced with me now. It’s done. Thank you for making me smile.”

I walked out of the gym. The girls probably followed me but I don’t remember. I just remember that I was the girl they pitied. These people whose names, faces, and families I still remember to this day pitied me. It was kind of them to care enough to ask someone to ask me to dance. But to this day, I remember where I stood in that gym, where they stood watching us, and the look in his eyes as he broke the truth to me.

I learned that day that I had good friends who were willing to do anything (or rather have someone else do anything) to make me “happy.” I was a lucky kid. And although I have since lost track of most of them, I still remember them all fondly. Even Sven – my crush who cared enough to dance with the fat girl he had known since he was four.