He Said I Had a Great Personality
How was that not a good thing?
I was thrilled. After spending most of — ok, part of — a giddy afternoon with “Jim” at Chippewa Lake, our decidedly downmarket version of an amusement park, a mutual friend told me that he’d later reported that I “had a great personality”.
Keep in mind that I was born a cranky old lady with anxiety issues. I grew up certain that I was too ugly for anyone to ever love me, never realizing that nearly everyone around me was living their own version of that tormented lie. So when Jim asked if I’d like to hang out at Chip one long-ago Saturday, I was over the moon. It was one racy afternoon, let me tell you. He held my hand. On one of the rides, he casually draped his arm across my shoulder. He bought me cotton candy!
Then that bit about my “great personality” and I was walking on air.
Our mutual friend looked at me a little funny but said nothing. Later, back at school when I walked towards Jim in the hallway between classes, he was surrounded by his buddies. When they saw me, they burst into laughter and began shoving Jim around. I kept moving, wishing I could evaporate into thin air.
I don’t think Jim ever spoke to me again. I certainly never attempted to approach him having finally understood what that crack about my “great…
