Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Are you out there Pete Chittenden... it's me, Jill...

Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop 

Write a letter to the first person who ever broke your heart.
(inspired by Alecia from The Silva Family)

 Dear Pete,

I remember it like it was yesterday. I was in 4th period Home Economics class sewing a pillow or baking a pie or some other insignificant extortion of child labor that would neither aide my development nor cause me to fail LESS in the kitchen. Some Office T.A. pariah walked in with a note. The teacher, Mrs. Obviously-Did-Nothing-To-Alter-My-Middle-School-Experience-Or-Leave-A-Lasting-Impression-Because-I-Don't-Even-Remember-What-She-Looked-Like, called me to the front of the class and handed me the slip of paper summoning me to the counselor's office. My heart began to race... what had I done? Was I in need of counseling? Was there some 7th grade law I'd broken?

As I made my way to the office, thoughts raced through my narrow, awkward, 12 year old head. And then I saw you... Pete... my dream boat... I immediately flipped my 3 ring binder around so that the doodles of your name joined to mine by cartoon hearts were no longer visible.

You smiled, that smile. I smiled back or giggled or vomited in my mouth, I don't remember. You looked at me like you had something to say, but instead you just led me into the mediation room at the end of the hall. Confused, I looked around, for the counselor, for an explanation, for the dozen roses you were about to hand me. All I found was a table with two chairs. So I sat. I was confident in that moment. Confident that you would finally confess your true feelings to me. Confident that you had felt it too. Confident that we would be slow dancing at the next school dance. So naive was I.

You were all business. You had a rare wisdom... or you were just 6 feet tall at 13 years old, either way, I was completely intimidated. You clasped your mammoth 8th grade hands together on the table. You looked me dead in the eyes. You grinned. And then you said, "Jill, this nonsense has got to stop. We will never be together. I will NEVER like you. Okay? I will NEVER like you."

World...crashing.... down.... around... me... heart....stopping... tears... welling... nerd...emerging...face...reddening...back...pedaling... there were no words. I raced back to class trying frantically to swallow the cantaloupe sized lump in my throat. Desperate to locate the dignity I'd misplaced between "I love Pete" and "I'm a jackass".

It took me hours... maybe even several... to fall in love again. I couldn't look you in the eye, mostly because you were ten inches taller than me. I never thought I'd recover. Oh, but I did. And went on to adore many others in your wake.

Pete, you fed me my first bitter morsel of rejection, not to be outdone by the thousands that would soon follow. You mortified me. You forced me to get a new binder with my allowance so I could doodle other boys names on it. You were six feet of wrecking ball sent to demolish my fragile little ego... I am a jaded lady because of you... Sleep well, Mr. Chittenden, sleep well.


(Disclaimer: There is no ill will nor negative feelings harbored for Pete Chittenden. I haven't actually thought about that day in YEARS. Calling someone in to the counselor's office to stage a one man intervention because of a preteen crush is priceless. I thank him for the experience, and the many, many times I have been able to tell this story throughout my life.)


  1. Way harsh! Couldn't he have just slid a note in your locker or something!?!

    Glad you were able to find love again :-)

  2. Oh my! So sad...but hilarious! :)

  3. Ouch! That hurt! You tell it very funny. I think I would died and carried it with me for years to come.

  4. Oh my gosh, that is PRICELESS! I'm sure it killed you in side, but really, it's pretty creative if you think about it. I wonder what stinky old Chittenden is doing now. Take solace in knowing he's probably bald and fat. :)

    Thanks for stopping by my blog today...loving yours! :)

  5. were probably psycho weird about getting his attention and he had no choice but to pull a mediator into a meeting.

    That picture is AMAZING. Please tell me you still have those mom jeans!! never throw any of your clothes. They still exist...don't they?

  6. Wow, reminds me of my pre-pubescent years with all my crushes and trying to hide the guys' names! Great post!