Writespiration #53 That Awkward Moment When…

Awkward Moment

Life is full of awkward moments… Those embarrassing occasions when life takes over. You lose a bit of control and something hideous happens. Maybe you show a bit too much skin, or vomit somewhere public… whatever it is, I am sure we have all had our fair share of them. So this week, the challenge is to write about that awkward moment when…

Here’s mine:

June 12th

Dear Diary,

It happened… I can’t believe it finally happened.

Gary, is every school girls heart throb. It’s sickening. Some girls say it’s the floppy blonde hair and bright blue eyes that get them. But for me, it’s his luscious lips and cheeky grin that make me gooey.

For once, I didn’t spend lunch in the library, it was far too hot. So I sat on the grass and ran my hands through the blades. Enjoying the sun on my vampire skin.

They’d closed the circle to outsiders as usual. If you aren’t in the schools elite, then you most definitely aren’t popular enough to play spin the bottle. And that’s how it’s always been. I’ve never been in the elite and I’m not sure I really want to be either.

They have plastic faces, and materialistic concern for handbags and skirt lengths. I find it tiresome just watching them. I am happier in the depths of the library with my nose tucked comfortably between two pages of a text book. There’s something about inhaling the musty scent of the library that makes me feel at home.

But, today, this morning in fact. I woke up, and they were THERE. Overnight. They just sprung from my chest like soldiers at attention. All arrogant and ready to entice the boys.

Of course, I was mortified. But mother had the foresight to buy me some bras ‘incase’. We had discussed She had blathered on many a time about the fact one day, I would be as voluptuous as the rest of the women in our family. I was skeptical given my tiny frame. But, and it pains me to say it, mother was right. These puppies are enormous.

Is it wrong that I kind of like them? I keep standing in the mirror jiggling up and down just so I can see them bounce around. 

Anyway.

Gary’s jaw about dislocated when I walked past with my enormous boobs all pushed up in a bra. His big blue eyes bugged out of his head. Marie (aka queen bee) saw it, and boy did it piss her off. She folded her arms, cocked her hip out, and gave me a death stare. I couldn’t help but smirk.

Anyway.

Gary came over to me on the grass, and asked. Just like that, he did.

“Hey Linny,”

I tried not to let the shock of him knowing my name paralyse my face. 

“Gary,” I said, trying to be as nonchalant as possible.

“So, I wondered if you wanted to play spin the bottle with us this lunch?”

“Sure” I shrugged, my heart was spasming in time with the enormous belly flops my tummy was doing.

And that was it. That was how the circle opened and I got swept into the elite.

But…

When we played spin the bottle things got a little awkward. First, Marie’s spin landed on Katie’s and at first they said they wouldn’t kiss, because they weren’t lesbians and that was minging anyway but then the boys all cheered them on so they had to do it.

Personally I think they kinda liked it, I swear you don’t have to kiss for that long. Anyway, the next spin was Gary’s.

GUESS WHO IT LANDED ON?

Yeah. Me. This was the best day of my life. My first kiss and with the best looking boy in school.

He gave me his hand and helped me off the ground (swoon – such a gentleman). Wrapped his arms around me and smiled that intoxicating grin at me. He smelt like real mens aftershave and I couldn’t help but melt in his muscly arms.

“Ready?” he asked… See, told you he’s such a gentleman.

Then his plump lips touched mine and my kiss virginity was gone. The last thing I heard before I was engulfed by his kiss was Marie tutting.

His lips were frantic pushing and sliding over mine. Then he pushed his tongue in my mouth.

And that was it. That was the moment…

THAT WAS THE MOMENT DIARY…..

He just bloody left it there. This big wet slug, all floppy and gross it was. I thought you were supposed to move your tongue around or something? Grace said she spells the alphabet with hers?

Whatever. It was amazing until he stuck his big fat tongue in my mouth and ruined what was about to be the best first kiss of anyones life.

It gets worst.

When he EVENTUALLY pulled away (his tongue was in there so long I definitely got bored opened my eyes and had a look round the playing field,) he leant down and whispered in my ear…

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

It was so awkward. What was I meant to do? I felt sick. I couldn’t exactly turn down the hottest guy at school could I? Could I??

Well I didn’t. I said yes. Obviously. But now I am stuck with him and his slug tongue violating my mouth all day everyday.

Oh God. How do you teach a boy to kiss? Maybe I should just fake it? Should I fake it? Should I?

Why don’t you ever respond diary?

FML, what have I done?

***

Now to last weeks writespiration which was all about Dormiveglia – the place between sleeping and waking.

Geoff got really dark and twisted this week…

I prided myself on my ability to sleep; colleagues, under less stress than me lost countless hours to tossing and turning, saying they only fell asleep moments before an alarm. Me, I took at most a minute and then it was six, seven or eight hours solid. While they struggled I soared. But you live life by the second; you don’t spot the incremental changes: the occasional early morning trip to the bathroom; the waking up before the alarm; the sense that, just there, in those moments before you are awake there’s something, someone, watching, waiting. The first time, the first nightmare shocks. But you have a trigger, something that tells you it’s a not real and you wake, sweating, exhausted, too early but incapable of sleep. Nights pass and nothing and then another incident: a nightmare with hollow-eyed strangers. You wake but it’s even more real, the memories linger all morning. You try and find the link, the catalyst: the cheese, the late night caffeine, the pot. But you can’t find it. So you try and stop going to sleep; if you can make yourself really tired, then you’ll sleep through until the alarm. It works. For a while. But they notice at work; someone says something about performance and reviews and younger people. Medication, acupuncture, hypnotherapy, you try it. But the dreams grow and grip. So eventually you stop going to bed, you walk when you should sleep, and you take naps between assignments. Then one night, late, by the river, you stop and lean on the balustrade. You think… A hand pulls you back, a voice tells you to think again but you don’t want help. You pull away, climb over the guard rail and turn. You’ll tell him you’re serious. But as your gaze meets his, as you notice how familiar he is, how he has hollowed out eyes, he puts a hand on your chest and pushes and you slip slowly and silently into the river of sleep, knowing that this time, there will be no waking.

***

Ali also writes a darker piece this week:

Some nights, I just can’t sleep. Some mornings, I can’t wake. But mostly, I find myself sinking between the cracks of day and night, or night and day, falling, endlessly falling deep into a world beyond imagining.

To say I’m dreaming is an insult. I’m not asleep, I’m fully conscious, and yet… it’s a state of perception hovering just beyond grasp in the here and now. Still, I hear, see, smell, touch and taste just as I do when I’m with you. Only, it’s… more. When I am there, I am more alive.

There are people there. They look like you and me. Actually, that’s not true. Everything about them is more; taller, slimmer, more powerful, more graceful, more beautiful. They know stuff we can’t guess at, do stuff we can’t comprehend. Pitiful insect that I am, they welcome me… imagine that, if you can.

They tell me one day I can stay, when this dormiveglia stretches into my infinity. That day has not yet claimed me, but it will come, as surely as light follows darkness, and while I wait, I fill my consciousness with you, and for now, for here, that is enough.

40 comments

  1. Awesome ‘Dear Diary’ piece. The slug is particularly evocative. So, thank you for that image. *cringes* I have so many awkward moments, I’m almost too overwhelmed to write one for this. Almost. 😉

    1. Hahahahahahaha, I cringed when I wrote it – isn’t that part of the fun though?! :p I think my life is one giant awkward turtle! (thats a phrase we use… duno if you guys across the pond say that!) I would love to see this one if you have something to share! :p

  2. Melvin was delighted to be asked to work on the Clarke account. As a grammar school boy in the old school, Oxbridge dominated firm of Pathway, Lucifer, he knew he had to overcome several assumptions about his right to be there. It was even more gratifying when, following a successful closing, Mr Clark himself invited Melvin and the client partner, Young Mr Lucifer, to lunch in his club. Melvin was a bundle of nerves about the lunch: which fork to use, how to hold the soup spoon, where to put the napkin. He needn’t have worried. By the time they arrived Mr Clark was three quarters full of G&T and Young Mr Lucifer not much better. Melvin even ventured his joke though perhaps fortunately neither of the older gentlemen were aware it was meant to be funny so their failure to laugh didn’t cause embarrassment. Melvin did mark his flatmates advice: ‘go easy on the drink’. Instead he availed himself of the four courses plus coffee and petit fours. It was thus a somewhat corpulent Melvin who pushed his way into the reception at approximately 4.15 that afternoon. He had three pieces of post to sign and then he could sneak home. The office, set in a spanking new office building had, perhaps by design, the slowest lifts in the City. The joke that you spend one third of your life eating, one third sleeping and one third waiting for the Pathway, Lucifer lift had an element of truth to it. In those elongating moments, while he stared at the floor indicator showing the only working lift car descending with less alacrity that paint condescends to dry, Melvin’s stomach migrated from a mild rumbling to the pre-launch sequence reminiscent of a nuclear missile. He was about to abort his wait and trot briskly to the ground floor ablutions when the lift accelerated and the door pinged open. ‘Ah, Melvin. Marvellous. I’ve been up and down this bloody lift for twenty minutes. Can you see me to my floor and tell me about lunch.’ Old Mr Lucifer waved Melvin on board. Melvin had no choice but to comply. Melvin was a fit young man; he had rowed and been known to scamper a brisk 100 yards if the occasion demanded but in all his time on playing fields and other green swards, he had never had to control his sphincter muscles as he did now. Melvin wasn’t especially religious – he thought of himself as an amateur Anglican – but in that lift he prayed: he prayed that the lift would move swiftly and not break down; he prayed no one else would cause it to stop before the 9th floor. As the car moved inexorably up Melvin griped his gut with the desperation of a man clinging to a parapet. Finally the car stopped, the doors opened and Old Mr Lucifer shuffled forward. ‘Thank you my boy. Pop off home if I were you.’ As the doors began to shut and Melvin knew he was alone with one more floor to go to the sanctuary of his cubicle of relief, he allowed his hold to loosen just a fraction and release a small but omnipotently awful fart into the atmosphere. The joy, the ineffable delight at this most basic of human evacuations was accompanied by him shutting his eyes and allowing a small, ‘Thank Fuck’ to escape his lips.’ When he opened his eyes, the lift had not moved, the doors were open and Mr Pathway, the senior partner was standing on the threshold. From the expression on his Principal’s face it was clear that Mr Pathway had discerned two things: one, Melvin and Melvin alone was responsible for the outpouring of gas now enveloping Mr Pathway; two, any hope that Melvin had convinced the firm that he was suitable Pathway, Lucifer material had taken a mortal blow. ‘I’ll get my things, sir.’ Mr Pathway nodded. It felt like a death sentence had been passed.

  3. Ugh that fat slug of a tongue was just too graphic! Ugh I’m still squirming! Great idea for a prompt – awkward moments we all have so many of those! Ali and Geoff’s dormiveglia pieces of writing are excellent, great prompt too.

  4. that awkward moment when you stumble upon a blog post and you have no idea how you ended up there and you busy thinking should I just click like and leave, or should I comment but I don’t know the person that well, you start and stop half a dozen times then you delete everything and think stuff it we all adults right ^_^
    ….but a fat slug of a tongue *shudders* and that has me thinking what if that’s exactly what I did just stuck it in there didn’t wiggle it or nothing did on Zig when I should have zagged when she said it was amazing did she mean it *cringes*

    OMG and then only to realise its all a fictional piece *giggles uneasily* Pssssh I knew that ♥♥♥

    ~B

    1. Pahahahahaha, this cracked me up! I’m sure you zigged and zagged in all the right places… but if you… term, didn’t… then… well we all make mistakes! I am sure you got it down now! hehehe. Lovely to have met you B 😀

  5. Lovely piece of writing, Sacha. Every schoolgirls (and some schoolboys) nightmare I would say. I love the descriptions in the story

    “But, today, this morning in fact. I woke up, and they were THERE. Overnight. They just sprung from my chest like soldiers at attention. All arrogant and ready to entice the boys.”

    I can remember pushing socks up my jumper just so I could see what a pair of boobs looked like on me.

    Here’s a short piece of fiction from me.

    “Come and have a drink with us and the rest of team. You’re certainly what we are looking for and think this job is made for you.”

    I never got the job.

    “So why didn’t you get the job?” asked my mother.

    “I don’t know. I guess they never really liked me” I replied.

    “Are you sure it wasn’t the fact that you decide to spew up in the champagne bucket in front of the Sales Director and CEO that was the deciding factor?” asked my mother.

    Yes, that was the awkward moment when I knew I was no longer on a night out with my new work colleagues.

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