Aug 11 2007
Maggots
(Names have, of course, been changed and blah blah blah…)
I believe it all started when I said something profound and eloquent, like, “Dude, Mr. Paul, your son is hot!”
Mr. Paul was remarkably thrilled to hear me say this. Mr. Paul and I went way back. I was a senior in high school, but I’d been in one or another of his choir classes every year of high school. This year, I was in the snooty choir–the cream of the crop. The Madrigals.
In years past, I’d seen how the Madrigals, a very small “show choir” had bonded and adored each other. This year, I think everyone bonded but me. I never really felt like I was part of the group. I don’t know why. I was at least as well-trained, if not more so, and I was certainly from the “right” socio-economic class that the whole group was from (they didn’t exactly embrace diversity in my high school). Still, there was just something about them (or, more likely, me) that didn’t quite mesh. (Maybe it was that whole goody-two-shoes, let’s put big bows in our hair and skip off, arm-in-arm, to a Michael McClain concert, reminding everyone along the way how much better we were than everyone else. Yeah… maybe that was it…)
Matt (who was not in the choir) called them Maggots. The name stuck.
But whether or not his Maggots adored me, Mr. Paul always did. He was incredibly kind and supportive–always a light, even during my darkest senior-year-gloom. For some reason, he thought the world of me. And when I took an interest in his son, Tony (who attended a different school, so I’d never met him before running into him at a concert one night), Mr. Paul was very pleased.
One day, I asked Mr. Paul if he thought it would be okay if I were to maybe ask his son out. Mr. Paul nodded his approval. In the back of my mind, I knew that my girlfriends were getting a group of us together to ask some guys to Morp (Morp was a school date-dance–”Prom” backwards–girls asked, attire was casual). I thought maybe I’d ask Tony to Morp. Maybe.
But, see, a few days later, I found myself in an interesting situation with a different, but equally interesting, young man named Mike. Mike and I’d been flirting for about a year by this point, and I guess Mike had finally decided to make his move–which resulted in the two of us making out in a most undignified manner on the floor between the rows of chairs in the school auditorium.
An excellent way to pass an afternoon.
So, thought I, I’d better not ask Tony to Morp. I really should ask Mike.
But!!! Not so fast!!! Because, see, a couple of days after that, Bryan showed up at my door. In a suit. With 18, yes, EIGHTEEN gigantic long-stem red roses. Asking me to Prom. Not Morp, PROM. MONTHS in advance. I recognized that this was likely the beginning of an actual relationship. Wait. Relationship? ME? Like, a BOYFRIEND? Sigh. I guess this meant that I should really ask Bryan to Morp.
But, I really wanted to ask Mike. So I guess I’d ask Mike.
But, no, I wanted to ask Tony.
But, I really SHOULD ask Bryan.
Sigh. What to do? My girlfriends were getting antsy. “Come on, Brill. Who ya gonna ask? We’ve got to start making plans. Come on!” Easy for them to say! They all had a special person of interest–an obvious significant other to ask.
But I, oh, I was so conflicted! So, I did what any psychotically over-dramatic rational girl would do: I sought therapy–in the form of ditching class and going to Wendys with Matt and his (straight) friend Tommy.
“What am I going to do?”
“It’s easy,” Matt said through a mouth full of french fries. “You’re going to ask Tommy. Everyone knows that you two are just friends. This way, it just looks like you decided to go with a friend. No one’s feelings get hurt.”
“Interesting… and… hmmm…. kinda perfect!!!” I said. “Wanna go, Tommy?”
“Sure,” he said, much more interested in his hamburger than in our conversation. And it was settled. Poof. Easy.
And OF COURSE I have the dance pic:
And of COURSE the pic requires a long and obnoxious explanation:
There’s me and Tommy, on the back row. Just before the pic was taken, Tommy says, “hey, wouldn’t it be ironic, since we’re like the only couple here who isn’t a couple (or wannabe couple), if we look like we’re about to kiss each other?” Ummm, sure. Why not. Alas, the picture was snapped in just such a moment that I look more like I’m about to bite him, rather than kiss him.
On the middle row, you have Hannah (the brunette) and date (who is quite possibly the biggest soap opera story EVER from our group of friends… certain to be told in some future humiliating post) and Jewels (blondie) and date. On the front row, you have Kate (in the lovely denim vest, matching MY lovely denim vest) and date and Leslie, whose date is none other than Donny Osmond Jr (who is the spitting image of his famous father, minus the purple socks… I think).
Enough! On with the story…
So, Tommy and I had a lovely time in a very “what a relief to be hanging out with someone who’s just a friend” kind of way. Bryan and I began dating soon after. And, oddly enough, Leslie and Mike started dating after she and Don Jr. broke up. So, everyone was happy, right?
Nope. What took me longer to realize (because, as I said, we were never real tight anyway) was that the Maggots weren’t speaking to me. They were angry with me. Why? Simple. I was supposed to ask Mr. Paul’s son to Morp. And they were all furious with me that I hadn’t.
Uh… did I miss something? Had I made an announcement at some point that I would be asking him? Was it in any way any of their business? Was it not just one stupid, simple little dance??? Had I asked for their snippy gossip advice?
No, I hadn’t.
I kid you not–they held this against me for the rest of the school year.
Gosh, what an honor to be a Maggot, eh? Don’t you wish you were one too?
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And now, for the rest of this week’s Soap Opera Sunday participants:
Wanna play too? It’s open to anyone!!! Rules and explanations are here. If you’re participating this week, PLEASE remember to link your post back to me and my fellow conspirator Kate so that your readers can find the whole soapy list!
br>
can you PLEASE write a book or start a seminar or SOMETHING about how to be like you and get to have three (count them once more…) guys clamoring to get witcha? there’s a market. trust me.
girl, i need to learn at your feet. teach me, yoda! (and that’s not at all a commentary on your looks–i am not saying that you looked like a wrinkled brussel sprout with antenna ears…only that you are wise like a thousand year old jedi is).
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HAHAHAHA. You must know that this was an isolated incident. I most certainly did not have guys clamoring after me on any kind of a regular basis. I probably should have made that more clear… Still, though… think there’s a lot of money in such a book? I’m sure I could make something up, right?
FOR the record, that was Don Jr’s cousin and it was a setup and I’d never met him before and I was not interested in him. I was doing Leslie a favor because Don couldn’t leave his cousin unattended whilst attending a dance.
And I forgot about all the drama surrounding this dance. Hahaha. So funny.
Wow…
All those years I wished I had been in choir, and now I think I am glad I was just in the orchestra (although we had some drama there on occasion).
How funny that DO makes a (somewhat) appearance in your SOS since my kids are currently obessesed with a song of his (and no it isn’t “I’m a Little Bit Country….”).
But that isn’t the point of your story. WOW Brillig - 3 guys? C’Mon! That is a feat!!
I’m sad that Madrigals were so, maggot-y. Our Madrigals actually wore, yes, some Elizabethan-type costumes complete with the boys in tunic type tops which meant they wore tights. It was comprised of the really good singers who also all were exceptionally smart. Many went on to Ivy League type schools. One friend went on to write the Bug Opera for kids (complete with a song about poop sung by, yes, The Dung Beatle) which I posted about.
Thanks again for organizing this! Good luck with the move.
Oh my goodness, those high-level show choirs! I think they’re the same in every single high school. Of course you didn’t fit in - you’re way too much fun!
lol as always your SOS was great. I just posted mine and the link is as follows.
http://canadianflake.blogspot.com/
I am enjoying my SOS experience. Thanks again.
Three guys clamoring over you?! No wonder those goody-two-shoe, large hairbow-wearing girls were mad at you — look at all the fun they were missing!
I’m late, but I’m up. Here’s the link:
http://annos-place.blogspot.com/2007/08/soap-opera-sunday-betrayal.html
Looking forward to reading the rest!
Bleh.
Sheesh. I wish I had guys falling all over me when I was a teen.
high school dances huh… somehow I am glad they don’t exist in Belgium. No stress about finding a good date….just private commercial dances where you pay entrance and go out without having a date, nevertheless still a good place to meet people!
But than again, high school dances seem like a perfect theme for SOS
Oh, you are TOO MUCH. SO funny.
And now that you’ve mentioned Don Jr., I know which high school were discussing here. Tee hee!
I posted, I posted! Sorry it’s late; hopefully it will be worth it….
http://novembrance.blogspot.com/2007/08/clever-trevor-part-two.html
Very funny story. I think Madrigals are the same everywhere.
They were that way at my high school. Band geeks are so much more fun!
Happy days!
You are a born storyteller, you know that? Loved it!
I think the maggots were mad at you because they knew about you and Mike making out, after you just asked about asking tony out. They might have had a secret plot to stab you or something. It would seem as if you escaped unharmed from their evil plot
My husband mostly got a good laugh at me in a picture with his old football buddy from high school…attached as mentioned to a marvelous SOS.
A great story as usual. I do remember the similar things I went through in University. In brief, I was part of a group of about 20 to 30 guys and there were a total of 4 (yes you read it right-4), girls that sat in one area of our central academic building. They were mostly math and sciences guys, and there were conflicts, if I spent too much time talking or studying with someone or other. I didn’t have to ask any of them to a dance, and didn’t go out with too many of them on dates, but there were the little jealous comments. It is coming back to me as I read your great stories. Thanks again for your wonderful posts.
It’s the sense of humour. That and the bad choir hair. I believe it’s a universal problem. Certainly happens here. Three boys!! It’s like Goldilocks retold, only more fun.
So funny! I’ve always thought that was a fun picture, but I never knew the story behind it! You were a busy girl for sure!
I picture you with a giant spreadsheet that you use to keep track of all of this soap-opera stuff.
That or a “family tree” style chart.
You are quite in demand. I hope your hubby is not the jealous type
I still have some guilt for not going out with guys who liked me in high school. I console myself with the thought - there were only 4 years of high school and way too many guys to date them all in just 4 years
The heck with the Maggots. Your friend Matt came up with a great idea.
Ugh. Those show choir -type can be SO snooty!
I like matt’s solution. Kind of like, “If you can’t share the toy, we’ll just take it away!” Except, You are the toy. Oh, that doesn’t sound good, does it? hahahaha!!!!!!
Uggh, Dear Brill, You almost lost me on the title there. I almost didn’t go any further for fear of what I might read.
But then I’m glad I did. Cute story. Oh to know the high school Brill. What fun it would have been
I was in my High School’s madrigal choir too, but we just stood there and sang, we didn’t have to dance or anything, thank goodness. I remember wearing denim vests, too. But you must be younger than me, because none of you ladies in the photo has the mile-high teased bangs
Great story, I think we would have been friends in High School, Brill!
You are down right hilarious! Such a great photos and what a great memory!
I LOVE Mr. Paul! He was one of the highlights of my senior year! And yes, our Madrigals were very soapy as well. I had my share of soapiness even though I wasn’t in the group, because most of my friends WERE. The joys. (I could write several months’ worth of SOS’s about that year . . . but then some of those people I’m still sorta in touch with would pretty much kill me.)
Great story, Brill.
Three prom choices? Most of us were lucky to have one. I’m jealous.
Um. I was a maggot. At my high school, not yours. But praise the almighty we didn’t have to wear goofy costumes like SMID is talking about. eek. We did however wear highly fashionable early 80’s wear, because it WAS the early 80’s.
Your pictures make me want to fly to the states, dig in the storage unit and find all my old dance/prom shots.
I have one similar to this with a “friend” (not straight) I went to the dance with and we made as if to kiss at the snap of the camera. Pretty funny.
I wonder where he is now….
Congratulations! That’s a pretty long list. If I knew how to tell a good story…I’d participate to but as it is…I am a bad story teller (hmm…and I blog??)