Mixed signals need erasers

A friend of mine from high school recently posted some pictures from the glory days of adolescence on Facebook. Here's a treat for you - I have cropped the picture to protect the innocent:

Okay, okay, okay. Let's get past the braces, stained lips and Indiglo watch. Seeing this picture brought back a memory of mine from 8th grade. Why? Because the boy in the Chicago Bulls jersey behind me, Rudy, was my boyfriend for 3 hours. Or so I thought.

I feel the need to reiterate the fact that I was the epitome of teenage awkwardness is unnecessary. That being said, let's move on to this particular day in Karen history:

I was currently in Choir when a classmate, Christina, rushed to the desk next to mine.

"Karen. Last period Laura and I were talking to Rudy about you."

Christina was your typical gossiper. We took what we she said with a grain of salt but she was definitely part of the "popular" crowd and the dichotomy between her social status and mine was reason enough for me to pay her ample respect. Not to mention, Laura was a good friend of mine and I knew I could always go to her for reassurance.

"Well.....what did you guys talk about?" I prepared myself for the worst. Did I sit in gum? Had they seen a test I had failed? Was my Giga Pet obsession the talk of the 8th grade class?

"Laura and I were just talking you up to Rudy. Saying you would make a cute couple."

I had never considered Rudy as a potential boyfriend. However, with my track record of no boyfriend, I figured this might be the opportune moment to know what it's like to hold hands with a guy. Maybe even talk to one.

"Wait? You guys were talking about...me?" I gave her my infamous bug-eyed look.

"YES! Rudy seems TOTALLY in to you! You should go out with him!"

Christina was more enthusiastic for this set up than I was. However, I didn't take much convincing. I weighed my options and boyfriend was better than sans boyfriend. There was a Spring dance around the corner and I knew I was not going to be in the mood to hang out in the bleachers hoping for a dance partner during "All My Life" and "Kiss The Rain." I told her to tell Rudy I accepted the offer and immediately developed serious butterflies in my stomach.

Luckily, Laura was in my next class and I knew I would be able to get more juicy details from her. She definitely confirmed the conversation between Christina and Rudy was geared toward the development of a youthful and impractical relationship. For some reason, this became the topic of conversation in our 4th period History class. The girls in the class scurried over to my desk wanting all the details about my newfound love. I didn't have much to say since I hadn't actually seen the subject of my relationship status since Homeroom. That didn't stop the girls from drawing "Karen + Rudy" in hearts on my 3 ring binder.

For the next hour and a half, through lunch period and dodgeball in gym, I put the rumors to rest and affirmed to Pine Forest Junior High that Rudy and I were, in fact, the new couple. I walked the halls with my head held high, looking forward to going home and sharing with my mother that I finally had a guy interested in more than my knowledge of Jurassic Park and Super Mario Brothers.

Rudy and I had 6th period together. I was awaiting this moment all day. The moment I would finally get to talk to him and plan our weekend date.

Unfortunately, I didn't have a plan for the ACTUAL events that occurred during 6th period. Rudy was immediately bombarded by the boys in class, asking if he was, in fact, "going out" with me. From across the room, I noticed his blushed cheeks and I began to panic.

Were we really going out? Had I jumped the gun? How can I get out of this situation if it turns sour? Why hadn't the teacher started the lesson so everyone would stop chatting?

The guys moved their interrogation over to me. They asked if I thought Rudy and I were together. Why did I have "Karen + Rudy" written all over my notebook? Would we be sitting in the same seat on the bus ride after school?

I didn't know what to say. I looked over at Rudy and saw the embarrassment in his face. Immediately, I knew what to do.

"Rudy and I are not going out, guys. Come on!" I rolled my eyes and waited until the guys left my desk before I scratched out the "Karen + Rudy" on my notebook. The fantasy I had of having a boyfriend dissolved faster than it began. Naturally, I was bummed. It was difficult convincing everyone that I was just joking when I prematurely stated I was no longer available for potential suitors.

At the young age of 13, I learned a lot about boys and the fickle rules of dating. A year later, I would finally have the opportunity to "go out" with a guy. Can't say it was an overall success, but I certainly did not make the previous mistakes. To this day I still never know whether or not I am following the right "rules" but let me tell you, I have NEVER written a guy's name in my notebook since.

Here is another token from my wonder years:

Lisa Frank and child entrepreneurs

I'm supposed to be calculating my budget right now. And by "calculating" I mean determining how much I can spend on McDonalds and shoes this month. It's the responsible thing to do. My dad taught me how to "budget" when I was 5ish. He had me sell Kool-Aid and cookies at a yard sale and taught me the value of a savings account and interest. Since then I became very familiar with the value of a dollar and how to multiply it.

When I was 8, I had a friend named Mallory. Mallory's family was loaded. The only reason I went to her house was to loose myself in their playroom. They also had leather arm chairs in their study, the kind that I imagine Sherlock Holmes or Dick Clark sitting in, and I liked to pretend I was the host of a scary story radio show. Don't ask.

Let's cut to a quick side story. My sister, Sarah, always had pages of Lisa Frank stickers. In 1990, Lisa Frank was a hot commodity and every girl wanted to cover their trapper keepers in rainbow colored koala bears and unicorns. I was very familiar with this rage and wanted to know how I could profit from it. I didn't care how I got there, just as long as it made me the richest 2nd grader at Warrenwood Elementary and, naturally, the most popular.

Back to Mallory. I stole a small page of Lisa Frank stickers from Sarah. (This was not unusual. I stole a lot of things from my siblings.) The page had about 10 small stickers on it. I brought it over to Mallory's one day with the determination of a used car dealer wanting make a sale on a 1970 Gremlin. Let's face it, Mallory was sucker. I convinced her to give me $10 for that small page of crummy stickers. I went home proud of my profit and wondered how I could steal more sticker pages to bring to school the next day and sell to the other chumps in my class. Unfortunately, for me, I had one sharp mother who I had yet to outsmart at my young age.

"Karen, WHERE did you get ten dollars from?!"

I had not yet reached the point in life when money was exchanged for household chores so I knew I had to think fast.

"I....found it....." Sharp mother did not produce sharp child.

"Karen. You did not find it. Where did you get the money?"

If you know me at all, you know I cave at the slightest bit any kind of interrogation. I burst into tears and use my doe eyes as my greatest defense.

"I took some of Sarah's stickers and sold them to Mallory!!!" I mustered up with a quivering lip.

With four kids, my mom perfected the stare down. I knew I had it coming. My punishment would entail returning the money to Mallory and replacing Sarah's stickers. Now I was out ten bucks AND had to somehow come up with the cash to buy my sister new psychedelic, drug inducing Lisa Frank "artwork."

I never said my ideas to "multiple the dollar" were successful. Right now I am far to busy breaking in my new Chucks and ordering take-out to share the prosperous stories/ideas. Another time, kids. Another time.