I really enjoy writing a column for The Cavalier Daily. I rarely get e-mails (so send me e-mails!), but I do know that at least a few people around Grounds read my columns. They are also published online so technically people all over the world could read them, too. One of the problems that comes with writing a column, though, is that my parents delight in reading it every week online. They get to read firsthand about all of my dating experiences. I bet Carrie Bradshaw didn’t have to deal with that.
My dad, in particular, likes to point out how I frequently poke fun at ex-boyfriends and less-than-perfect dates and rarely partake in any self-deprecating humor, teasing myself instead of those poor boys. So here it is, ladies and gentlemen, for your reading pleasure. I’m starting the semester out on the right foot and listing my top three all-time most embarrassing, humiliating, mortifying moments involving the opposite sex. I dedicate this to my mom and dad. Enjoy.
Number One: I’m from Virginia Beach, and every Christmas the boardwalk is opened for cars to drive down and look at the Christmas lights strung all over the buildings by the beach. My family had a big SUV and one night, we decided to go check out the lights. My mom and dad were up front, my younger brother and my visiting grandmother in the middle, and my boyfriend and I were in the third row of seats in the back, a full car. With his arm around my shoulder, the boyfriend thought it would be a good idea to mildly grope my chest as we drove down the boardwalk in the dark. Keep in mind, this was sophomore year of high school, and appropriateness didn’t begin to cross our minds. Later that night, my dad suggested that before riding in my boyfriend’s parents’ car, I should make sure they don’t have a rearview mirror. Because things from the back are reflected up front. Oops. Sorry, Grandma.
Number Two: Different year, different boyfriend. Embarrassed as I am to say it, hickeys were the new popular accessory, and my flame of the year ended up with a nice-sized bruise right on his neck. Telling people he was hit in the neck with a baseball bat seemed to us to be a decently believable lie. Turns out it wasn’t. One night at his house, his mom politely asked me to refrain from Hoovering her son’s neck. Yikes.
Number Three: Shortly after starting my first year at U.Va., I was anxious to watch one of my soon-to-be favorite traditions: streaking the Lawn. A friend and I sat on the steps of the Rotunda and settled down to watch the streakers. We really enjoyed catcalling and whooping at all of the naked boys running by us. One of the boys who ran by was making quite a show. He was doing naked somersaults in front of the Rotunda and we were cheering and whistling at the top of our lungs. When he nakedly ran up the steps we were sitting on, I realized I knew this guy. It was my ex-boyfriend. From high school. Running by me naked. The one who groped my boob in front of my grandma. And I was catcalling at him. Whoops again.
So there, I hope you all are happy. Three of my most embarrassing boy-related moments. Or at least the ones that are toned down enough to be printed. Printed and read by my mom and dad, my neighbors, my classmates and my extended family. And it’s not until I just listed all of those people that I realized who else reads The Cavalier Daily. Namely, my professors. I hope they don’t ever put together that the girl who apparently gives monster-sized hickeys is the girl who sits quietly in the back of their classes. If so, I’m really sorry. As my cheeks are turning brighter and brighter red, I guess this is a good place to stop. I embarrassed myself once but don’t expect it to happen again. Watch out, boys. Next week I’m going right back to poking fun at you. Be warned.
Jordan’s column runs biweekly Mondays. She can be reached at j.hart@cavalierdaily.com.
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