There was always something familiar about him; something I couldn't quite place though it felt like I knew him from somewhere other than my television screen. And then one night, Josh and I were watching the Food Network and I squinted at the screen. "I think I kissed that guy," I tell him.
"Really?" Josh asked, doubtfully, even though he had heard tale of my promiscuous kissing stage of life.
Oh, come on, don't we all have a promiscuous kissing stage? Where we stick our mouth against any and all who come in our path? Anyone, anyone, middle school?
A trip to my parents house and a rummage through some boxes yielded the evidence.
I had a celebrity makeout session. With Duff. When we were 13.
The evidence (and I feel badly posting this for Duff's sake, but to be fair, I am embarrassing myself too by posting this photo from our awkward middle school years):
Duff in his grown-up, Charm City days:
Of course, I could be totally wrong and there could have been a different Duff that I made out with on my Israel trip. Though, you know, how many Jewish Marylanders named Duff (or Duffy, as he was known on the trip) who resemble each other closely could possibly exist? But if I am wrong, then I apologize to the Duff of cake-building fame for counting him amongst those who passed over my lips during the aforementioned promiscuous kissing phase.
The irony, of course, is that Duff is known for using rolled fondant. What was one of my many infertility distraction activities?--cake decorating classes. And what was the one class I missed because the mean chick who sat up by the teacher announced her pregnancy when she was three minutes pregnant and proceeded to rub my nose so badly in her hCG that I spent the rest of the evening crying in the bathroom and then skipped the next class?--rolled fondant. I know that you can find these coincidences anywhere if you stretch hard enough, but it really feels as if things have been coming back full circle in my life as of late. I have many more posts like this brewing--though no others that has tales of my kissing whoredom with celebrities. All of it just makes me wonder what happens next. Nu? I mean, if my life were a movie and this many stories were being neatly tied together one after the other, you would expect something momentous to be on the verge of happening.
But this post is not just to let you know that I had a two week affair with an adolescent pre-cake maker. It is also that I read my journal that was stored along with my photos on the trip and I need to report (though I'm sure this isn't a news flash) but middle school girls are mean. They're just mean. And it could be fair to say that so much of the way I try to live my life today stems from how I was treated as a middle schooler. I did not have an easy time on that trip so I would like to take a moment to publicly thank Duff for holding my hand when I needed someone not just to stand beside me, but to hold my hand too. Especially but not limited to coming down from Masada.
Perhaps that is the good that comes from feeling so unwelcome by the three girls that I originally shared a room with on the trip (I ended up switching room by the second day). They make you want to create the blogroll from hell so that no one needs to feel as if they're alone as they're stumbling through the Land of If.
A toast--to mean girls who change how you live, to promiscuous kissing phases (which are a lot less dangerous that other promiscuous phases), and to my celebrity makeout session. Every girl should have one.
Which celebrities have you met? Either pre-or-post fame?