The Birth of the Friend Zone

From the start of Kindergarten, Johnny and I were friends. He asked me to race him one day during recess, to which I gladly agreed, and that continued for the rest of the year. Johnny was easily the cutest boy in class. He had smooth dark skin that gleamed every morning from the Vaseline lovingly (i.e. generously) applied by his mother. He had an adorable smile, and an impressively long ducktail. For those of you who didn’t grow up in the early 90’s, duck tails were a thing. They were just a long piece of braided hair at the nape of the neck. The longer the ducktail, the cuter the guy.

Our friendship continued into the first grade, where Johnny and I were in the same class again and he sat right behind me. Since I still had a crush on him, I decided to risk it all and tell Johnny how I felt so he could finally be my boyfriend. On that fateful spring day, I jotted down my thoughts on a piece of paper and stealthily passed it behind me before the teacher noticed. The note read:

I like you, do you like me?

Circle yes or no.

Short and to the point. I waited for his response. Every second seemed like an eternity. After a minute or so, I got a tap on my shoulder. I turned slightly to see Johnny’s scrunched up face asking me what I wrote on the paper because he couldn’t read it. I didn’t believe him, so I got annoyed and responded, “Ok, so now you can’t read? You know what it says.” In hindsight as well as in his defense, my handwriting has always been about two baby-steps above scribbles, so he probably genuinely couldn’t read it. Anyway, we started going back and forth about the letter, its meaning, the spelling of some of the words (for the love of sprinkles, you guys). Ok sure, maybe I did misspell ‘circle’, but who cares?! This apparently went on for longer than I realized because all of a sudden a strong hand snatched me out of my seat and pulled me to the front of the class. In the twinkling of an eye, I was face to face with Mrs. Peppers, the first grade teacher.

What you must know about me is that during my school years, I was a model student mostly based on my fears of corporal punishment and my parents. In those days and in that school, teachers were allowed to physically reprimand misbehaving students, and they exercised that right daily. Because of this, I was careful to not invoke the wrath of the teacher’s ruler. Parents also liked to pop in and “check” on their kids unannounced from time to time. Nothing puts the fear of God in you faster than hearing a classmate ask, “Is that your mom?”. I’ve seen parents pull up on their misbehaving kids only to spank them in front of the class to teach them a lesson. I did not want that to ever be me. However, on this day because of some snaggle-toothed boy, I got caught slipping.

Since this was my first offense I really thought I would get off with a warning. That didn’t happen. Instead, I got spanked in front of the class much to the apparent delight of my classmates. Everyone giggled uncontrollably, including Johnny. When she was finished destroying any dignity I had in my 6 year old body, I returned to my seat, slumped down in my chair teary-eyed, and humiliated. The note I gave to Johnny went unanswered.

Although Johnny and I have managed to keep in contact even to this day, he has never needed to read another love note from me.