Splogger Creeper Stories: Jono Was an Awkwardness Monster In High School

Note: I would like to point out that all the Sploggers were encouraged to do one of these, but evidently I am the only one. I'll show them who's creepy! I will follow them all to their cars tonight.

Given that my posts are full of references to wizards and robots and being so awkward that your pants fall down and you go to prison, it should come as no surprise that I was basically awful in high school. I didn't know anybody freshman year, and I chose to deal with this situation by wearing black and slithering around like Gollum. Somehow this behavior failed to sweep all the ladies off their feet, and the end result was that it took me years to figure out which part of a girl I was supposed to talk to.

One summer I went to a speech and debate camp. I could probably just end the story right here, but the plot thickens: somehow I made a ladyfriend while I was there. Let's call her Blinda. No, wait, Lindab. Okay let's just call her Stan.

I have no earthly idea what it was that made her take an interest in me. Maybe it was the way I blurted out unthinkably stupid things in conversation for no reason ("speaking of football, do you believe in ghosts"). Perhaps it was my obvious surprise that I was talking to her and she was not calling the police. For whatever reason, Stan, who was quite a fetching young woman, kept in touch with me after the camp was over. Impossibly, she asked me to her prom.

Now, I feel like this was an avoidable disaster. If you ask a raccoon to prom, all he's going to do is chitter and knock over your garbage cans, and if you ask High School Jono to prom, all he's going to do is stammer and also knock over your garbage cans. But evidently I had tricked her into believing I wasn't a walking catastrophe, so to prom we went.

To make a long story short, it was not good. To make a short story slightly longer, I was so awkward that my pants fell down and I went to prison (okay not really, but it was bad). My horrible secret—that I had only a vague idea what a girl was—was finally revealed, I spent the weekend frumping around like a mute, and once Stan was finally rid of me, she probably did a relieved little dance and prepared to go on with her life. Of course, I would have none of that, because now she was my secret imaginary girlfriend, although only I was aware of this fact.

To my credit, I didn't do anything truly creepy like following her around or bursting out of her closet and going "BOO I LOVE YOU" in the middle of the night. But I did my share of internet-stalking and AIM-badgering, and generally being intolerable. She'd say something absolutely clear like "I do not like you anymore, please go away," and I would respond by confusedly sending her flowers. This went on for a while, through I truthfully don't remember how long, perhaps because my brain is too embarrassed. If I could go back in time and give myself advice, my advice would be "THINK FAST, DORK" and then I would punch myself in the face. But If I were forced to give advice with words, well, let's see here.

Lessons To Take Away From This Debacle:

Lesson 1: Don't Be Terrible.
No, seriously. If you somehow luck into a sort-of-relationship but you know you are a social disaster, don't just trust your success to chance. Being social takes practice; for some of us, this is true even when the only objective is trying to say words out of your mouth like a human being who is alive.

Lesson 2: Make Your Move.
Before it became apparent that I was basically an uncoordinated pod person, Stan was giving me some clear, telegraphed, "now is where we make out" signals, to which I responded by standing perfectly perfectly still and not saying anything or doing anything. If someone is leaning in toward you and saying romantic things, do not somehow deduce that she has merely lost her balance and gone crazy.

Lesson 3: Take The Hint.
If you begin to suspect that someone isn't into you anymore, don't keep following her around like a puppy, fawning after her like a fawn, and being stupid like an octopus. If things feel like they're over, learn to let go, instead of always trying to hold on with your gross octopus suction cups.

Creeper stories—share 'em in the comments!

Related post: Creeper Much?