I was once a twelve-year-old boy at Jew camp. For some reason, several girls thought I was attractive. Until they talked to me.
There was one girl that I think enjoyed making me feel awkward. Or else she was just really bad at taking hints and I scarred her emotionally for life. Whichever.
So, one night, my whole age-group of campers is sitting at the campfire, singing campfire songs. She sits down next to me. I squirm a little, like usual. She grabs my arm, and says, "Hey there, Hunkalicious." Internally, I'm on Red Alert, full fight-or-flight mode. So what do I do? Like any incredibly awkward twelve-year-old, I wait until a song when most people stand up, but instead of standing up, I roll backwards over the log we're sitting on and discretely run to the other side of the campfire where no one is sitting because that's where all the smoke is blowing. And I sit there with my shirt covering the lower half of my face until the end of the song session.
I can't help but feel that the Hunkalicious incident more or less set the tone for my romantic life from then on.
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