Hockey Party Fun

They tell me it’s baseball season. Looking out my window – I’m thinkin’ hockey. What with the ice and snow. Here’s a hockey-ish story for you.

I came across this journal entry from my college years. While obtaining my degree I worked as a student athletic trainer. That position provided me with plenty of access to the school’s social elite. It also provided the school’s social elite with plenty of opportunities to make me feel small and stupid. Yeah, the good ol’ days of insecurity and angst. You couldn’t PAY me to go back in time. There is not enough money in the world.

Sunday – 1983

I suppose I shouldn't feel sorry for myself. At least I got invited. My date was “G”, the third string goalie. Unfortunately, I do not like “G”. Even worse, he doesn’t like me either. I was his fourth choice, and my ticket to the party of the year was issued "standby".
So why did we end up at the party together? Here’s how it happened.

I was working in the training room one night after a late hockey practice. My hands refilled the first aid kit but my mind was occupied elsewhere. There had been a lot of talk on the team bus this evening. The team captains are hosting a party and I’m feeling REAL sorry for myself. I want to go, but I’m the invisible girl. I’m not gonna be at that party. I’m gonna be back at the dorm avoiding my homework and very likely sticking my finger down my throat. I always eat too much when I’m sad. And then I get even sadder when I realize how much I’ve eaten. And then I panic. And try to undo the damage by forcing myself to puke. That’s what I’m thinking about.

So into the training room walks “G”; all worried about his bruised arm. After a few minutes of fussing with his "sure ‘nuf, its a bruise", he starts to act strange. The awkward goofy way a guy will act when he's going to ask you out on a date and you don't want him to and he knows it. “G” starts to tell me about the hockey party planned for Saturday, and I cringe ‘cause I hope he doesn't want to ask me. But he does. Then, this is where it gets good; he says,

"You just have to say yes."
"I do?"
"Yeah, cause I really want to go and the guys said don't come if you don't have a date. On top of that I've already asked three other girls and they said no. So please say yes."

By now I'm not sure how to feel. I feel bad for “G” cause I'm not exactly "A list" material either, but he's really not interesting to me. At least I’d get to go to the party. On the other, hand I feel just a little insulted. He only asked me out after being turned down by three other girls. On the up side, that means he doesn't have a crush on me. Phew!!
I think a bit. After careful deliberation I say sure, I'll go, and what do I wear and when will you pick me up? I rewrap his poor little bruise so that it looks much more gallant than it really is (one of the essential tricks of the trade when trying to get along well with the college aged male athlete).

“G” says "by the way, I'm gonna keep asking girls I'd rather take to this party, so I may cancel out on you at the last second. Just so you know. (long pause) Thanks for rewrapping my arm.”

I turn to tell him to shove his stupid party up ...well, anyway.. and he's already gone. Dorky he is, but not stupid!!

Yes, I went to the party, and it was really pathetic too. Just a bunch of big fish jocks at a small pond college party with their twiggy Barbie doll dates. Kim, with the "body to die for", was there. After expressing surprise to see me at the party, she demanded an explanation for my accompanying "G". I muttered something about him needing a date at the last minute. She told me that none of the girls were there with who they wanted to be with. Except of course those couples who were already engaged. Even Kim wanted to be there with Scott instead of John, and that just proves how smart the hockey players are. That’s what SHE said anyway. I didn't say any more because I would have felt mean badmouthing “G”. He was trying so hard to be one of the guys. It wasn't working. When we arrived we had been greeted with a loud chorus of taunts. "No fair bringing the trainer ‘G’! That’s like bringing your sister. You were supposed to bring a REAL girl!"

I just smiled. I didn't know what else to do. I wanted to fade into the paneling behind me. I really wish I was one of the Barbie dolls! Or at least a real girl.

Today – 2008

I now know that I AM a real girl. I no longer panic when I eat too much. And my husband is better than any of the hockey players I longed to date. MUCH better! Isn’t it amazing how tender and vulnerable we are in our teens and early 20’s. I HAVE to keep that in mind when Banshee Girl is screeching at me. It's up to me to help her learn to cope. Sucky job sometimes … but I’m up to it. I love her.

Hey - Sometime soon I'll have to tell you about how much my mom loves me - and what happens to mean boys who throw rocks at her daughter.