Regrets

When I attended EFY the summer before my senior year of high school, I learned a valuable lesson:

When the cute boy flirts, flirt back.

I've mentioned before that my students ask me for "Fail stories" daily. This is one I've yet to tell.

We gathered around the commons area on the first floor of our building in Deseret Towers. U-Haul. The boys filed in, the girls thumbed their hair and batted their eyes. My jaw probably dropped. They were cute. Too cute. And there was nowhere to sit. I made my way to the window behind the couch upon which sat six 16 year old men on a 4 person couch. The Hispanic one (I'd never seen an hispanic boy in real life) caught my eye. He gave me the nod. He motioned for me to sit.

"On his lap?!" I thought. There wasn't room for me. Clearly. But, the boys didn't mind.

Nervously, Instinctively, (Gosh darn it, that boy was WAY too beautiful!) I looked at the floor and shook my head.

From that point on, I had no boy friends that week of camp.

I'd like to evaluate whether or not my inability to handle the attention of the most beautiful man I'd ever laid eyes on had something to do with the fact that the boys didn't talk to me. But, if there's one thing I've learned in life, it's that whenever I assume to understand why or why not a man behaves the way he does, I am almost always completely wrong.

So, I won't. But, if you'd like to comment here, so I will NEVER go to camp and screw things up again, feel free.

I'm interested.