Heartache on the Dance Floor

There he was, standing on the other side of the gymnasium, wearing his letterman’s jacket, talking to some girls. Bud Stud, the one guy who has remained on the Far Left Position on my Future KISA Wall of Fame.  The reason I lost a ton (O.K., 40 pounds) of weight, because I walk three to four times as much every day for over a year just so I could walk right next to or right behind him to class without his knowing it. I’d had a major crush on him since the first time he wore that letterman’s jacket to school and rumor had it that he was coming to the Asian-American Club-sponsored Fifties Dance stag, so I made sure I was working the concession stand that night so my dad would let me go to the dance.

My friends all knew I was crazy about Bud Stud, and  tried to talk me into asking him to the Sadie Hawkins dance, but I chickened out, and he went with someone else. At the Fifties Dance, I watched him from across the gym floor when I wasn't dancing, and even when I WAS dancing, I always knew where HE was.

On the first "Ladies' Choice" my friends finally convinced me to go up to ask him to dance. Summoning all the courage I had, I memorized where he was across the gym, threw caution to the wind, and began the long trek across the gym, but with my eyes on the floor.  I was on my way to helping Serendipity fulfill her purpose.
    About three-quarters of the way, something made me look up, and there he was, the love of my life (he just didn’t know it yet), slow dancing with this girl (whom I knew to be just using him to make her boyfriend jealous!), and the music hadn't even started. A cannon ball hit me in the chest, dropped in my stomach, and began forcing its way back up. I ran to the bathroom and promptly threw up from the heartache.

The rest of the dance, I worked the concession stand, and I even served him as he ordered two malts, one for him and one for her (and no, I did NOT spit in her malt, much as I wanted to). The two of them danced together the rest of the night, while I served malts and Frito Bellies to a sea of strangers.  I didn’t dance again the rest of the night.

I spent the rest of  that night crying after I removed Bud Stud from the Far Left Position and demoted him to the farthest right, and I cried into the rest of Saturday and Sunday. But   Monday morning was the start of a new week, and after claiming God's promise in His Word that He knows the plans He has for me, I made the decision to move on.  No more walking the long way to my classes just so I could walk beside him.  No more “From Your Secret Admirer” boutonnières on Fridays.  No more gawking at him as he rode past my window in the afternoons between 3:45 and 4:35.  Bud Stud was history.

Well, not entirely.  He remained on the Wall of Fame even after he asked and took THAT GIRL to the Prom, and even after he asked her to be his girlfriend.  He SHOULD have come of the wall and should have ended up in a pile of ashes in my fireplace, but he didn’t.  After all, she DID turn him down, and she DID break his heart and he ended up going home alone from the Prom.   

There was still hope for Serendipity.


Chapter 4:  He Couldn't Believe His Luck