The Valentine's Day Massacre of '82

With Valentine’s Day happening this weekend, I thought this might be a good time to share another excerpt from the memoir I’m working on.

Here you go…


I’m not gonna lie, I had a fair amount of success with the ladies in my grade school days. Being a short, funny, well-mannered kid meant many of the girls I crushed on developed a crush for me too.

Unfortunately for them our relationships never consisted of anything more than an occasional “hi” and some feeble attempts at a flirty smile. There was no kissing, no hand holding, and to be honest, no real conversations either. Just the unspoken knowledge that we liked each other floating around in the air like a stale fart.

(For more information on this, Google “Worst Grade School Boyfriend Ever” and click on my name. It will be the first search result.)

There was only one time that I remember putting myself out there for a girl, a day I like to refer to as the Valentine’s Day Massacre of ‘82.

Her name was Tisha, and of all the girls in my kindergarten class, she was far and away the prettiest. I hadn’t told her to her face I liked her, but I was pretty sure she knew because I had told Scott who told Susan who mentioned it to Olivia who said she told Tisha.

Letting someone know that you liked them in grade school often looked like a game of telephone, you just had to hope your message of “Bryan said that he likes Tisha” didn’t get mangled into “Bryan’s head fatty bike tissue” by the time it got to its intended recipient.

Not sure that I could trust the kindergarten communication network, I decided to take matters into my own hands as I was writing out my classmate’s Valentine’s Day cards. My brilliant idea was to write a slightly different signature on Tisha’s card, thinking no one else would find out I was giving her special treatment.

Everyone in the class got a card that read “Happy Valentine’s Day, from Bryan”, except for Tisha.

Her card read “Happy Valentine’s Day, love Bryan”.

Yeah that’s right, I went L-word in kindergarten.

Of course, the whole thing backfired on me like an old Mazda. She showed her card to everyone, and by nap time the entire class was heckling me because I ‘loved’ a girl. One kid was right in my face telling me how gross I was.

I should have punched him right in his baby teeth, but that wasn’t how I rolled.

As Tisha could have told you, I was a lover, not a fighter.


What about You: Any good (or bad) Valentine’s Day stories to share?

Let us hear ’em.