It was Valentine’s day at school. 10th grade. You could purchase a carnation for your crush, or your boyfriend or girlfriend, a few days before, write a little private note, and then the flowers would be delivered to the recipients, to their home room class, on Valentine’s day. The money went to the school for a fundraiser.
I had had a crush on this boy for two years. He was nice, but way out of my league, but I finally summoned up the nerve to try the flower approach.
What I didn’t know was that this fellow was going to be absent on that day. So the kids doing the delivery, dropped the flower off to our homeroom class, and the teacher put it on his desk. His asshole friend, who was not a nice boy, knew he was absent, and snatched up the flower, and read my note aloud for the whole class to hear. It was very humiliating.
I was very shy back in those days, and it took every ounce of my courage to buy the flower, and write the note in the first place, but since the fellow was a decent guy, I was pretty sure the note would be kept private, even if he didn’t share my amorous feelings. So I felt OK about taking the chance.
His hideous friend ruined the moment, and made me crawl back into my shell. He was one of the males, throughout my life, that made me distrust guys, which was really a shame, because it didn’t need to be that way, and I wasted many years being afraid of telling people (males) how I felt about them. Because I was afraid of being humiliated again.