Positively Scarred

(Note: I don’t “hate” any bands, but there are bands I refuse to listen to or rarely ever listen to… this is one of them.)

I was 17 when I had my first real relationship. I remember when we first met: It was a sunny April day and my friend and I decided to hit up the mall, as teenagers do. We entered in from the food court and the first stop we made was in the arcade. In this period of time, the game Dance Dance Revolution was insanely huge. My friend played it, and I’d play a game every once in a while, on easy, to the same songs every time.

Anyway, so we walked in to the arcade and were almost immediately approached by someone my friend knew. We got introduced and hung out a bit, then we went on our way. The guy who worked at the arcade (met him, too) later friend requested me on MySpace (that should tell you how long ago this was), and I accepted. We made plans to hang out, at the mall, that following weekend. He was nice, but I wasn’t attracted to him. I decided to just go anyway. He said he had to get a ride so he was bringing his friend… Cool, no problem.

So I showed up and lo and behold, the friend that the arcade guy brought with him was the same guy I was introduced to by my friend in the arcade. Later, he friend requested me on MySpace as well and we began chatting. We really got to know each other the first couple of weeks and then one day we went to Jamba Juice. We got our drinks and before we sat down he said, “I’ll be right back” and dashed off to the restroom… with his drink. I was baffled but let it go. When he came back, he sat across from me and we just chatted.

He kept motioning to the bottom of his cup, and after several moments I came out of my oblivious state and looked at the bottom of his cup to see he had written, “will you be my girlfriend” with red Sharpie.

It was the cutest way I’d ever been asked out.

The one thing I grew to love about him was his passion for a band that I absolutely couldn’t stand.

Metallica. Ugh.