I’d always felt I was destined for fame (I used to tell my classmates to watch out for me, someday I’d be famous) and Drama class was my reason for waking each day in high school. I was ecstatic when I saw my name on the list of those who’d made the school play – along with his. He was beautiful. 2 years older than me, brown hair, light brown eyes, nice teeth (I adore a good set of teeth) and he was mysterious. He was really into Morrissey, and he wore his long bangs sprayed high, perfectly coiffed, with one rogue piece falling haphazardly on his forehead. I can’t imagine how long it took him to do his hair in the morning, but his efforts didn’t go unnoticed, and I know I was not the only girl harboring a secret crush on him. I knew it was only a matter of time before he saw me, my vibrant talent and was swept away. After all, actresses always got the cute guy. I chose to ignore the fact that I was only 15, mouth full of wires, and I was really bad at makeup application. Oh, and I was chubby.
My head almost exploded but I kept my cool when he started talking to me in rehearsals, telling me he thought my monologue was good or that my scene was funny. It was happening, he was becoming weak to my charms! Soon, we began a friendship in rehearsals. We’d banter back and forth and I would throw my head back, laughing at all of his jokes and funny faces, hoping my perfectly curled blond locks were fanning out behind me, landing softly and beautifully on my shoulders. I imagined him falling in love with my hair first (since hair seemed to be his thing) and then discovering my beauty underneath (the pounds of makeup). One night in rehearsal, I noticed the orange and gray parachute pants he was wearing had a hole in them.
“Hey, I can sew those up for you,” I offered, pointing to the hole.
“Really? That would be cool. These are my favorite pants,” he replied, making my knees melt.
I told him to bring them to school the next day and I’d fix them. I was awash in teen-crush bliss all night and the next morning, because now I had a reason to TALK to him during school, not just at rehearsal. This meant he would come to my locker and that people would SEE us talking. Everyone would be abuzz about how we must be in love, because we seemed to be so close – I was taking his pants after all.
He met me at my locker the next morning, his amazing pants in a bag.
“Thanks again for fixing them,” he said, smiling his perfect smile.
“Sure, no problem. I love to sew,” I replied, smiling back, my braces covered teeth shining in all their metal glory. (side note: I had never sewn anything in my life and knew I would be calling on my mom for her expertise). I kept grinning, saying nothing, until it became really awkward and he left. I couldn’t help it; he was talking to me! I had his pants in my hands!
As soon as I got home that night, I carefully took his pants out…and smelled them. Not in the crotch or anything! Just wadded them up in a bunch and smelled them. I don’t remember that they smelled like anything but it seemed like the thing to do at the time. I was 15 folks! It made sense then. I did in fact have to ask my mom for help. She laughed, knowing my huge crush, and said she would mend them for him but I could take all the credit. Thank you mom!!
Somewhere between my mom handing the mended pants back to me and leaving for school the next morning, I decided it would be awesome for me to, wait for it…WEAR HIS PANTS TO SCHOOL! Yep, I was going to wear his pants to school. Remember, I said I was a bit chubby so they actually fit me perfectly. They were big and balloon-y and I paired them with an elegant oversized t-shirt, that I usually reserved for sleeping. Ok, always reserved for sleeping and had in fact, slept in the night before. (I used to like to sleep in what I would wear to school the next day, so I could save some time in the morning. This meant more time to spend on my hair. Since I usually wore sweatpants and t-shirts, this wasn’t a big deal).
I came downstairs and my mom looked at me. My school attire had long been a source of tension between the two of us. My mom was the quintessential lady; hair always done, make-up on, outfit that accentuated her great figure and high heels to match. Her high heels ALWAYS matched. Before she could say anything I said, “I just want to wear them this one day. I’m not keeping them or anything.” Since she knew an argument would solve nothing, she sighed, shoulders slumped and muttered, “Ok.”
I felt beautiful. My long hair was curled to perfection. My makeup was on (all 5 tons of it) and I was wearing the pants of the boy I loved! It was a gooood morning.
I made it to my locker where we were supposed to meet and looked around anxiously. Was he not coming to school today? Just as I was starting to think maybe he’d ditched me, he showed up. The look of confusion on his face was not imagined, he kept it there the whole time he walked up to me.
“Umm, you’re wearing my pants,” he said, the confusion on his face had fallen into his mouth and was now coming out in his words.
Hmmm, I was feeling a little bit silly now. Maybe wearing his pants wasn’t the best idea I’d ever had. “I am but hey look, they’re fixed!” I exclaimed, motioning to where the hole was, hoping to distract from the fact that I was WEARING his fucking pants.
“Ok, yeah. Thanks. Ummm, when will I get them back?” he asked, still looking confused.
It was about this time that I was hoping we’d have a fire drill at school or maybe an earthquake (it was Southern California after all) so that I could run away from this situation and hide my mortification.
“I’ll wash them tonight and bring them tomorrow. Umm, I’m sorry, I just really thought they were cool pants and wanted to see what it was like to be in your pants. These pants I mean! I mean parachute pants, you know, cause I might want to buy some. They’re really comfy. Roomy too.”
Holy f*ck, I did not just say that, did I?
Yes, yes I did. I said I wanted to be in his pants.
The bell rang just then and I was saved from future dumbass comments. We said our see-ya’s and I spent the rest of the day wishing I had a good excuse to call my mom to come get me, so I could hide in my room. But, I didn’t AND I had play rehearsal that afternoon, so I stuck it out. I stuck it out through rehearsal too, when my cast mates asked about my pants and I had to admit that yes, they were His and yes, he had worn them yesterday and yes, I had fixed them and decided it would be a good idea to wear them today.
I washed his pants and took them back the next day.
We never dated.