When Life Hands You Boys...

        I’m going to let you all in on a little secret. I’m very open with my life. I guess that means that wouldn’t be considered a secret because really, I don’t have many secrets. My friends know I am more than willing to tell them if I’ve been rejected and by whom. So here’s one of those stories:

I’m a member of my high school Debate Team. Now before you go and judge, mind you, we have a lot of jocks, so it’s not just a gathering of nerds debating whether or not marijuana should be illegal (we have some marijuana users too, so that was a fun debate).

       On occasional Saturdays, members of the team will travel to different high schools to compete in competitions. Once again, mind you, these competitions are not just  gatherings of weird high school students (not to say that there aren’t weird high school students there...). If you asked me one word to describe those competitions it would be “flirt” because when all of the debating is done, we flirt. And what girl wouldn’t? When my surroundings are a bunch of teenage boys in suits, I’m not going to put that to waste. When life hands you boys, you flirt. 

Anyway, one Saturday I met a boy who, in my premature teenage mind, is perfect. Not only was he Lebanese (I have an infatuation with Lebanese people), he was attractive and his name was beautiful. 

Sabrina’s Math: Lebanese + Attractive = My Future Husband. 

He was also on crutches. So picture a gorgeous boy on crutches...aaah. Throughout that day I became speechless around him. It was typical “girl likes boy, girl doesn’t know what to say to boy” behavior. That behavior has only happened to me with two guys in my whole entire life (the second one will be a good story, but I’ll have to mentally prepare myself to tell you guys about him because I really do want to marry him...not kidding). So not only was I shocked, my friends were shocked. 

Long story short: The boy, on crutches, ran away from me. I’ve never even heard of that before. It’s not like it was a little broken toe, he had a broken knee or something of that sort, and he managed to RUN AWAY. 

To make myself feel better, I deemed him plagued with “all boys school syndrome.” 

So that, my dear readers, is the story of how a boy on crutches ran away from me, and I was rejected.