Back to Before

Sorry it's been so long since the last post, folks. I've actually had this story on the back burner for a while, but I was saving it for a 20something Bloggers blogswap that, unfortunately, never happened. And I can't bear to keep it from you anymore!

Also, today is my 23rd (gasp!) birthday! There will definitely be commentary on my existential getting-older crisis, but not tonight. Because I actually had a wonderful birthday and am a little drunk, as one should be on any and all birthdays after one reaches the legal drinking age in their respective countries.

We now return you to our regularly scheduled programming, already in progress.

Yeah, more Broadway song lyrics. It's just how I roll. And I keep on rolling. Rolling on the river.

Ok, that wasn't Broadway. But they sang it on Glee, so it still counts.

ANYWAY...

My frog issues have been going on for many, many years. You heard a bit about my first frog experience from the beginning of high school, but my first serious boyfriend was not until my senior year of high school. And what a whopper of a tale that turned out to be...

Broadway Frog and I had been friends for quite a while, but we really connected in Drama Club, when we auditioned together for the roles of John and Elizabeth Proctor in The Crucible. The audition was magical- the rest of the auditorium melted away as we looked into each others' eyes and pledged our characters' undying love to each other. Once the audition was over, we realized that something special had occurred, and that we both felt a deep and passionate connection to the roles and to each other.

Remember, this is not just high school- this is high school drama club. The melodrama quotient is about 400% higher than in your average relationship.

But there was one problem: Broadway Frog was dating another girl. Being the only relatively attractive boy in Drama Club, Broadway Frog made his way around the ladies of Drama Club, and I was determined to be next.

But how? I was a shy and awkward, much less pretty and, shall we say, "delicate" than the other girls. So I did the only thing I knew how: I became his best friend.

Over the next few months, we hung out together all the time, sat together at lunch, went to each others' houses on weekends to watch movies, did homework together, the whole shebang. He shared that he was starting to grow tired of his latest Drama Queen flavor-of-the-month, and I did nothing to dissuade him from throwing her out onto the curb. I knew I could share my deepest, darkest thoughts with him...

Or at least I thought I could.

It was the day after my 18th birthday, and all of my friends were gathered outside of TGIFridays (the only place in town other than Waffle House that would be open after 10pm) for a big birthday celebration for myself and a friend, whose birthday would be the next day. Broadway Frog and I were standing outside of the restaurant chatting when I decided to share some fantastic news:

Let me pause for a second to explain. At the age of 17, I was diagnosed with an ovarian tumor, which was removed a few months later. I was out of school for nearly three weeks, but I hadn't told many people why, as I was pretty embarrassed at having a disease that is really only supposed to strike older women and had, in my mind, robbed me of what little femininity I had (and, most likely, my fertility).
I could have sworn that Broadway Frog was one of the people I had told.

Apparently not.

I had taken a blood test earlier that week to look for tumor markers, and it had come back negative, which was obviously very exciting! So I gave Broadway Frog the short version:

"I don't have cancer!"

Broadway Frog turned pale and his eyes grew wide.

"Wait...you thought you did have cancer?"

As I stuttered and stammered and started to explain, Broadway Frog turned away for a moment of reflection.

Or maybe to hide his tears of love for me.

Or throw up into the bushes, which is what actually happened

That's one way to make an impression on a potential boyfriend.