February 22, 2001: The Infamous Post-it Note Incident

This post is brought to you by office supplies!

At last, we come to one of the crowning moments of my crush on David B. It is an event doomed to be re-lived over and over in my adolescent mind forever (or at least until the first day of ninth grade.)

It was a few days after my fourteenth birthday. Art class was in its full swing of awesomeness, and I was really enjoying school. (Not of course, for academic reasons. As I’ve mentioned before, I learned upwards of nothing that year, and spent a majority of my time reading Simon R. Green’s “Deathstalker” series under my desk.) By this point, I’d confessed my love for David B. to a dozen or so of my closest friends. So basically, everyone knew about it. Somehow, he either didn’t know, or it didn’t faze him, as he continued to hang around me … a lot.

Before we go into this entry, let’s set the scene a little and take another look at my wonderful 2001 wardrobe. Do they still make body glitter? What about those little circlets of rhinestones you could stick around your belly button, Christina Aguilera-style? Inquiring minds want to know!

Over-accessorization was key! Damn, we loved unnecessary sparkly things in the early 2000s. Maybe this was foreshadowing our love for sparkly vampires at the end of the decade?


Dear Diary,

Good grief! has that man any sense at all? It seems so totally obvious to me!

Today in art, David didn’t do much. But near the end of class, we ended up at the bucket of clay slip (how romantic ^_^). I was talking to him, and I told him he had two sticky notes on his back. He asked me to remove them! I thought any idiot could get sticky notes off their back! So I did of course, but the moment I touched him I felt a little jolt of electricity run through me. It was a very strange feeling! Why the hello did he do that? Stuff like that only makes me like him more! It’s such a roller coaster with him. Either we’re interacting, or he’s ignoring me. I wonder if any of my teachers notice our chemistry. One thing is for certain- I either want to hit him or kiss him!

Excuse me, I’ll be over there, pounding my head on a desk.

Two words: STICKY NOTES.

I’m not sure how to feel about the fact that the only on-purpose physical contact David B. and I ever had was when I removed a post-it note from his back. Excuse me, that’s two post-it notes. So I guess it took more than one touch. Or something.

I’d also like to add that I changed “why the hell” to “why the hello” in case anyone ever read it and caught me swearing. I hadn’t yet embraced my foul mouth.

Also, note the anime-style smiley face. Cringe-worthy.

I am ashamed to say with how much detail I remember this particular event. It is burned into my brain, unfortunately. I could still tell you exactly where we were standing, and how the light from the floor-to-ceiling windows had that pale yellow, washed-out, late winter look. I remember being all “OMG HE IS INVITING ME TO ENTER HIS PERSONAL SPACE BUBBLE OMFG AMAZING.” It even surpassed the previous awkward sink encounter to become the greatest moment of our relationship.

This moment would go on to inspire several awful art projects, poems, and short stories. We’ll get to those later.

However, I’m pretty sure I made up the thing about “electricity” from every bad romance novel or “Gundam Wing” fanfic I’d ever read. I’m pretty sure all I felt was paper.

About Diane

Hey, I'm Diane! I'm a writer and storyteller, currently living in Washington, D.C. From a self-composed how-to guide on being an adventure heroine, to an obsessive college crush on the vaguely-Harrison-Ford-resembling editor of the college newspaper, to sundry forays into erotic, historical fanfiction, my material comes from the tragic yet hilarious place where fangirl obsession meets modern reality. I like thrifting, watching NBC comedies, and getting emotional about fiction.

Posted on December 1, 2009, in The Diary Project and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. Want to know what’s sad? I remember us talking about this on AIM after it happened. For at least 2 weeks. As you get to HS in your awesomely bad reflections, remind me to email you some of the goodies sitting in my yahoo inbox.

  2. Polly Burnette-Egan

    I’m sure all of your teachers noticed your love affaire with David B. How could they have missed the sticky note inncident?

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