| Don't throw me a surprise party unless you want me
to walk out. I won't stay. |
It's been done before. Fifth grade. A surprise going-away party when I moved from Oklahoma. I'm sure Gina and Mrs. Kullich had nothing but the best of intents, but when everyone on the softball team stopped talking when I came close to the bench, when I came up to my friends, when I walked past... |
| ...it was then that I knew that one of only two things was possible: Either they were throwing me a surprise party or they all hated me |
| The buildup was horrendous. Even when she picked me up from practice, that day of the party. When Mrs. Kullich insisted that we were "just stopping at her house for a moment." When I KNEW it was a surprise party. |
Some part of me was better prepared to handle the latter option better than the former. I hated that I was clever enough to know about the party for weeks in advance. Hated that I was leaving and that they gave me a party and didn't hate me. That I would leave my friends again. Like clockwork. Whoops, she might be settling in. Must be time to up and move again.
| So if you're thinking about it... well Don't. No party. |
| And while we're at it, if my life should change so radically that we're in a relationship together, and if it should do a 540o ...and we're considering marriage Whatever you do, don't propose to me on Sally Jesse Raphael. You don't know me at all. |