Try This Flirting Technique

In 7th grade choir, we sometimes had a sub, Mr. Beemer. Mr. Beemer was well-known for sitting in his office all hour, while the class went berserk in a Jack-the-pig-hunter sort of way. People would run around, playing tag on the risers or wrestling amongst the folding chairs, pummelling each other in that fun-but-actually-very-mean way that middle schoolers can have. Or, if you were like me, you would sit there and talk with friends, write notes, or flirt across the room. I give you the following example..

So, there I sat that day, talking to my friends. As we talked, we all periodically looked over at 7th-grade cutie Seth and giggled audibly, just, you know, to make a point.

As I was talking, all of a sudden...ping! Something hit me on the shoulder. I looked back. I couldn't figure out what it was, but oh my god, Seth was LOOKING in our general direction. This was big news, because cool boys were always stand-offish. They didn't LOOK at anyone. They glanced, maybe. They looked bored and let their eyes pass over you, through you. They didn't LOOK. But there he was. Looking. I turned back around, and I'm sure I did something extremely subtle like squeal "ohmygod!" and clap my hands together. I'm not proud of this, people. I'm just being real here. This is who I was in 7th grade.

Ping! Something else hit me. What the hell? I turned around, looked on the floor, and what did my little eyes spy? M&Ms. Someone was throwing M&Ms at me. I looked up, and there was Seth, looking back. Could it be? I turned back around and alerted my friends. They kept an eye out, so the next time one of them hit me, they saw it. It was Seth. Be still my beating heart.

As the pelting continued, the pile of M&Ms around my chair started to collect. And this is what became apparent. They were ALL GREEN. Seth was picking through his little bag of M&Ms, and getting the green ones out to throw at me. Because, you know. Green M&Ms. Wink wink.

I ask you to please tell me what 7th grade brain could come up with a gesture more funny than that? Seriously, if Margaret Mead was studying the sexuality of American kids being struck dumb by their own puberty, she would find no better archetype of behavior than this. Am I right or am I right?

And, to show you that I was not above this M&M affection/aggression construct, I will reveal that I did not just keep giggling and being pelted. I started picking up those M&Ms and throwing them back. And, in this way, Seth and I got to interact. We didn't actually talk, of course. Because that would have been too much. But we had a green M&M fight, and felt our hormones surging through our charged up adolescent bodies. How sweet it was.

Kiss the rings, I'm out.
Librarian Girl