One year, I was feeling quite pious after starting to date a religious boy named schmoopie (correction to that sentence: we weren’t actually dating). We started hanging out during his divorce from a girl he described as a pretty party animal, from a wealthy family, named Brittany.
um…that sounds a lot like…me?
*Insert Red flag here.
So, during an attempt of trying to control my drinking because schmoopie didn’t like it, I found out that one of my younger sisters had been sneaking out. Oh.My.God. If I’m not allowed to drink too much or have sex, NO ONE else should be having ANY fun. Especially those in my family. And especially those who were below me in the pecking order.
By the time I found out, my sisters had already hashed things out and Miss “I’m sooo almost 18” had stopped. Being such a good girl, though, I still told our mom and my sis was grounded.
I’ve never experienced such intense stink eyes before.
A few weeks later, we had all planned a trip home to stay with our parents and I started to hear the snickers from my siblings about revenge. I assumed that it would come in some sort of mortifying admission to my parents about how rotten I was as a young adult.
Confession: I can’t remember much of my high school or college years, partly because I just can’t but mostly because of the partying.
Realization: there is nothing that jogs the memory better than an immanent threat of secret divulging from a knowing family member to the parents who at that time were completely supporting me. I was like Jason Bourne who could remember everything except his own freakin’ name.
Solution: remember all of the awful things I did that my sisters could have known about and create excuses, reasons, and denials about each one to prepare my defense.
Cut to the morning when we were all standing in the kitchen and I hear the snarky giggling from upstairs. Oh.my.gawd…shit is about to get real. I start mentally running through my flash cards of possible situations that could be brought up.
It turned out to be just these ridiculous shirts that that they had printed! Not one physical piece of evidence was entered in the verdict of Siblings vs. Brittany. The front was a large circle containing the names of my four siblings and the label “Circle of Trust” a la Fockers. On the back was another large circle with a line through it and “Brittany” printed in large block letters. My entire extended family found it hysterically funny, especially my dad.
For all of my good behavior, this anxiety is what I get?? I don’t even get to go down in flames or on some other torture device?? Lame. Can I please have a drink now that I survived my own personal Fukushima?
Thankfully schmoopie soon realized that he was, in fact, dating the exact same girl that he was currently divorcing from. And I eventually became a member of the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster.* And I quit dating divorcees.
Revision 1: *I’m totally not against religion or anyone’s beliefs. Nor have I completely given up on going to church. I simply believe in the Universe and whoever created it and don’t want to discuss it any further.