always go to Mom, who would be waiting in her bedroom on the edge of the bed, reading her Bible. Usually, by the time I got there, sniffling and hiccupping from crying so hard, Mom had a Bible passage ready to read to me, which always seemed to fit the moment perfectly. When I told her of my plans to go to DEA training, she had read me Jeremiah 29:11: “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord; plans to prosper you and not to harm you; plans to give you hope and a future…” Mom was a devout Christian and never missed church, even on Wednesday nights. Dad went begrudgingly with her on Easter and Christmas. He believed in God too, but felt church was an “option” rather than an obligation. I tended to agree with Dad on that one.
I picked up my pace a bit as my playlist switched to Justin Timberlake’s album Future Sex Love Sounds . The album had been my favorite since it was released during my freshman year of high school. It brought back even more memories of school, friends, football games, and homecoming dances.
I shuddered when I recalled my junior year homecoming.
My date was my boyfriend at the time, Tommy McAllister, a senior. When we arrived at the high school for the dance, Tommy immediately ditched me for his buddies, but I was fine with it, as it gave me a chance to hang out with my girlfriends, whom I rarely saw since I met Tommy. My best friends at the time were McKenzie Brandon, Emily Corman, and Morgan Evans. We stood around in our beautiful rainbow of dresses—mine was a long, powder-blue number with “diamonds” covering the bodice—judging the other girls’ dresses, and cooing at the handsome young fellas in their suits. Only half an hour into the night, I heard Tommy shouting something loudly near the concession table. When I looked over, I saw two of the male teachers holding him by the arm on either side and escorting him toward the front door.
“Olivia, we gotta go!” he shouted.
I said a quick goodbye to my girlfriends and rushed over to Tommy’s side. “What’s going on, Tommy?”
“These assholes are throwing me out for spiking the punch!”
“Well…did you?”
He just smiled his Cheshire Cat-like grin. “The party was so lame.” He just shrugged.
I was humiliated. Everyone in the gym had stopped dancing and looked directly at us.
“Let’s go,” I said as I gathered up the hem of my pretty blue dress and marched toward the front door of the gymnasium.
The teachers escorted us all the way out to the parking lot to make sure we left and instructed us not to come back. I missed the rest of the dance and the after parties and had to hear about all the fun times I’d missed out on the next Monday at school. Needless to say, that was the end of the Olivia and Tommy love story.
The really sad part is that Tommy was my last real boyfriend. I never dated again until I was in college and even then, it was just sporadic dates with boys I met in class from time to time. Nothing ever really stuck. I like to say it was because I was too focused on my studies, but that wouldn’t be totally true. I wish I had had another boyfriend, but it just wasn’t the stack of cards I was dealt.
Feet still pounding the pavement, tears stung my eyes as I tried not to think about how lonely I had been the past several years. Even though I was only in my mid-twenties, I was convinced I would become one of those crazy cat ladies who lives alone in an apartment with thirty-three cats and no man to love her. I already had the apartment and one cat, so I figured I was on a roll.
If I’m being totally honest here, I did try a couple of those online dating websites when I moved to Chicago. First I tried the granddaddy of dating sites, Match.com. That was a fruitless journey into the realm of crazy, horny, and uppity men. Most of the men on that site were looking for a Barbie Doll, not a real-life girl with brains. No, they all wanted some ditzy blonde girl with big boobs and
I picked up my pace a bit as my playlist switched to Justin Timberlake’s album Future Sex Love Sounds . The album had been my favorite since it was released during my freshman year of high school. It brought back even more memories of school, friends, football games, and homecoming dances.
I shuddered when I recalled my junior year homecoming.
My date was my boyfriend at the time, Tommy McAllister, a senior. When we arrived at the high school for the dance, Tommy immediately ditched me for his buddies, but I was fine with it, as it gave me a chance to hang out with my girlfriends, whom I rarely saw since I met Tommy. My best friends at the time were McKenzie Brandon, Emily Corman, and Morgan Evans. We stood around in our beautiful rainbow of dresses—mine was a long, powder-blue number with “diamonds” covering the bodice—judging the other girls’ dresses, and cooing at the handsome young fellas in their suits. Only half an hour into the night, I heard Tommy shouting something loudly near the concession table. When I looked over, I saw two of the male teachers holding him by the arm on either side and escorting him toward the front door.
“Olivia, we gotta go!” he shouted.
I said a quick goodbye to my girlfriends and rushed over to Tommy’s side. “What’s going on, Tommy?”
“These assholes are throwing me out for spiking the punch!”
“Well…did you?”
He just smiled his Cheshire Cat-like grin. “The party was so lame.” He just shrugged.
I was humiliated. Everyone in the gym had stopped dancing and looked directly at us.
“Let’s go,” I said as I gathered up the hem of my pretty blue dress and marched toward the front door of the gymnasium.
The teachers escorted us all the way out to the parking lot to make sure we left and instructed us not to come back. I missed the rest of the dance and the after parties and had to hear about all the fun times I’d missed out on the next Monday at school. Needless to say, that was the end of the Olivia and Tommy love story.
The really sad part is that Tommy was my last real boyfriend. I never dated again until I was in college and even then, it was just sporadic dates with boys I met in class from time to time. Nothing ever really stuck. I like to say it was because I was too focused on my studies, but that wouldn’t be totally true. I wish I had had another boyfriend, but it just wasn’t the stack of cards I was dealt.
Feet still pounding the pavement, tears stung my eyes as I tried not to think about how lonely I had been the past several years. Even though I was only in my mid-twenties, I was convinced I would become one of those crazy cat ladies who lives alone in an apartment with thirty-three cats and no man to love her. I already had the apartment and one cat, so I figured I was on a roll.
If I’m being totally honest here, I did try a couple of those online dating websites when I moved to Chicago. First I tried the granddaddy of dating sites, Match.com. That was a fruitless journey into the realm of crazy, horny, and uppity men. Most of the men on that site were looking for a Barbie Doll, not a real-life girl with brains. No, they all wanted some ditzy blonde girl with big boobs and
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