Doin’ the Bartman
The first girl I remember having a crush on me was named Mugs. Her real name is Meredith, but her nickname came from a boxer her grandfather thought she resembled. I couldn’t reciprocate her feelings toward me. My interests in the sixth grade included Nintendo, perfecting my handball skills, foursquare, riding my bike, mythology, drinking Sunny D, and watching Animaniacs while drinking Sunny Delight. Clearly, girls were not on my mind.
Mugs expressed her feelings to me after she broke up with a fifth grader she dated for a few months. It had to be a joke, she couldn’t possibly be interested in me. I was a little pudgy, a little awkward or simply, p’awkard. I dealt with it the same way most 11 year olds deal with cootie-infected girls, I made fun of her. Are you shaking your head in disgust? It’s okay, I’m doing it too.
How can anyone like someone p’awkard? I wore a Bartman t-shirt, and they weren’t even authentic. My mom bought knock-off Simpsons t-shirts at a shop in Little Saigon. For my sixth grade yearbook photo, I had on the Simpsons t-shirt (the one where Homer is strangling Bart while they posed for a family photo.) I didn’t intend on wearing this shirt, I was completely unaware that we were having our yearbook photos taken that day.
I suppose I haven’t changed much since the sixth grade. Although I don’t wear Simpsons t-shirts anymore, I’m still awkward, and when a girl is crushing on me, I make fun of her relentlessly; but is this really a bad thing?
