Posts Tagged ‘camp



03
Jan
11

When we first started hanging out together, this morning, we were just friends; but things change, and I’ve fallen in love with you.*

Dear Helena,

You realize that if you knocked on my door today, and asked me to marry you there is about a 77% chance I’d say “yes.”  This is a very big deal, given a few things: 1. I’ve never been in what most would call a long term relationship, so jumping right into a marriage would be kind of a bold move. 2. While it’s cool you were in a movie with Robin Williams, said movie has less than a 5 rating on IMDB, so it would go against my nature to associate with someone from that (kidding, kind of). 3. I have not seen, or heard from you, since summer camp 1996, so you might no longer be tall, gorgeous, and sweet.

Yes...I was the cool kid who wore a hat to the camp banquet

I mean, for effs sake Helena, look at you (blurred face notwithstanding), how could I not have fallen in love with you back in the day.  Granted, we only had a few weeks a year to spend together, but perhaps it was the other 49 weeks where I built up the affection I have (I mean, had) for you.  It’s a damn good thing facebook and gchat weren’t around back then, I have a feeling you might have placed some kind of cyber-restraining order against me.  Speaking of which, why the hell are you still not on facebook?  I know you always went against the grain a bit, after all you were a hot girl who was best friends with me, but just give in and create an account, if only to reconnect.

Wait, this is supposed to be a letter to an ex…but you are not really an ex of any sort.  I was simply infatuated with you, and though I’m sure you knew it, it was never discussed.  I was a gangly, incredibly awkward 14 year old with a mouth full of braces (which seems to be a reoccurring theme in these old-school letters), and you were a 15 year old moviestar who looked 20; hence, there was extremely little point in trying to make you my girlfriend for the better part of July.  But honestly, that isn’t really important.

Not to be super cheesy, but what is important the friendship we had.  I did indeed cherish it…back then I thought it was because I got to spend copious amounts of time talking one on one to the hottest girl at camp during rest hours, pool or A’s & C’s (arts & crafts…hey I needed a rest from all the athletics and it was a great place to pick up chicks).  Actually, I just realized the last sentence is entirely true.  I think our friendship gave me a level of confidence with females that I didn’t have prior.  Becoming close and talking all the time with a beautiful female tends to have that effect on me…even if we weren’t making out after talking.  I realize that most of my letters make me appear like an insecure, sarcastic asshole, which is true of course, but I think without you, Helena, I’d be even worse off.

Hope all is well, wherever the hell you are,

Steak (as in, opposite of ‘Chicken’…get it? Of course you do, no one else does though!)

*Wet Hot American Summer

17
Nov
10

it would be nice to think that since I was 14, times have changed.*

Dear Meghan,

I should state from the very start that I’m extremely grateful for what went down between the two of us for those amazing and gut-wrenching three minutes between us in the camp dancehall circa 1995.  If you hadn’t absolutely crushed me as a young teenager, we probably wouldn’t have the friendship we have today; which, as you must know, means a great deal to me.  However, that being said, I hated you with 100% of my soul for about two days.

It took an assload of courage for me to come up to you at that dance.  I was (my use of the past tense here is questionable) awkward, gangly, freckled, metallic (in the mouth region), but I will give myself some credit because I was the best tennis player at camp, as if I thought you might be impressed.  You, on the other hand, were/still are tall, hot, blonde, smart, sweet, southern belle who was the creme de la creme of the female camper population.  I’m pretty sure all of the younger male counselors wanted to ask you to dance that night as well, but apparently their jobs were too important.  Questionable decision on their part…crap food, crap pay, crap cabin…I think I would have sacrificed that for a dance with you.

There in lies the problem though, I didn’t need to sacrifice anything, for a dance anyway.  I sauntered up to you, actually that is complete bullsh*t; I walked timidly up to you, looked up into your eyes since you were already taller than me, and asked you out, and you surprisingly said, “yes.”.  It should be entirely clear to you now, I ASKED YOU OUT.  As in – Do you want to go out with me? Or, do you want to go steady with me? Or, as the old timers might say, may I court you so we can go necking in the woods later?  Unfortunately, you heard none of these.

What you heard, perhaps over some awesome mid 90s song like “Return of the Mack” or “Runaround,” was, “Will you dance with me?”  Well of course you said yes, we were relatively good friends and a dance was absolutely harmless.  We were like 13 or 14, it wasn’t as if I was going to try and make out with you like I did with this broad.  And so, we danced for a couple of minutes.  Me thinking that this was the beginning of what I was sure would result in my first boob grab sometime down the road; you thinking three minutes of dancing wasn’t going to kill you.

that could've been us...forever

Well, at some point it must have clicked, and you realized what I actually asked.  You broke our contact, and while very sweet about it, proceeded to stomp all over my heart.  I can’t quote you on what you actually said, because I was too busy trying not to cry, but I think it was along the lines of a bumbled, “I’m really sorry…I thought you just wanted to dance…I don’t want to go out with anyone this summer.”  Thanks for putting me down easy.  Of course, when you went out with JR (not the dude from Dallas) later that week, it stung a bit.

Was it the braces? Freckles? Did I have bad breath?  Oh, I know, you just couldn’t stand going out with someone who was better at tennis than you.  Seriously, it’s not a big deal, we would have never worked in the long run.  Something tells me a long distance thing back in the mid 90′s between to teens would have ended badly.  I still love you…as a best friend. Ok I gotta stop this letter now, I think that last line marked my first supremely cheesy line.

I’ll dance with you anytime,

Me

*High Fidelity

09
Nov
10

“tonight, allegra cole may get her ‘last’ first kiss.” *

Dear Carolyn,

It was over 20 years ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday.  Tucked away into the hills of a small town New England State (can’t give away my anonymity quite yet), I was a 9 year old kid who received his first kiss from the cutest 12 year old this side of the Mississippi.  Granted, I made it entirely awkward by turning to the side and I think half of your lips were on my cheek, the other half on my ear, but you have to cut me a break…I was 9, and I was being held up to you against my will by my bunkmates.

our first (and only) kiss was not quite as successful

I believe it was during those thirty minutes after evening activity was over (capture the flag, perhaps?), back in the days of overnight camp when boys and girls could still socialize without having to worry about some kind of parental complaints.  Though to be completely honest, there is no way I was actually socializing with you – A. you were a girl & I was (still am) a boy (well, almost a man)  B. I was 9 & you were 12 C. you were cute & I was somehow the most awkward looking 9 year old who didn’t have braces, probably due to my bowl cut and freckles…and a face that reminded many of Paul from The Wonder Years.

But my bunkmates forced the relevant information out of me; and by forced I mean they probably asked me who I was going to ask to banquet.  My immediate response was “no one,” but after a couple older boys told me I couldn’t go alone, my next response was you, Carolyn.  So they convinced my to ask you, right then and there.  I walked over to you, and like out of a movie you were somehow sitting alone on your cabin steps, which of course made it far easier for me to talk to you (and way too hard to back out).  Somehow I stumbled up the courage, or fear of more torture from my entourage who was right behind me, and here’s how I’d like remember the conversation transpiring,

Me: Would you like to go to banquet with me?

You: Awww, you are too sweet…but I’m already going with the best athlete and cutest guy at camp.  If you had asked me first though, I totally would’ve gone with you.

This is probably how the conversation went,

Me: Um, hey…I’m XXXXX, oh yeah, we are on the same tennis court, you know that. Um, I know you probably don’t want to, but um, I need a date to the banquet and uh….

You: Oh, no. Thanks though.

I turned to walk away, quickly.  Some idiot ‘friend’ of mine shouted, “he wants a kiss too!” You were too sweet, you should’ve just laughed it off…but you told me to turn around, which some of my friends did for me by grabbing hold of my arms.  That’s when you went in to kiss me on the cheek, and I turned and you got some ear.  There is almost nothing I regret about that night, Carolyn, except not turning the other way.  If I had done that, perhaps you would’ve felt the chemistry that I knew was there between us when our lips connected…or more likely you would’ve slapped me in the face.  Either way, at least I would remember my first kiss a little more successfully.  Anyway, that’s enough for now.  Hope this letter finds you well…and maybe still single?

I shall forever remember your lips upon my ear,

Paul Pfieffer

*Hitch (not a huge fan of this movie, but it fits)




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