Once again, I was thisclose to forgetting about Tova's Totally Awkward Tuesdays. Don't be surprised if TAT just vanishes off of the face of the Earth one of these days. Luckily, today is not that day.
This one isn't as awkward as some of my past traumas, but it's recent, and I forgot to write a post until the last minute, so it will have to do.
Way back in my high school days, I dated a guy who has previously been referred to on this blog as "the good ex."
One thing the good ex was very good at was giving sentimental gifts. He wrote me poems and framed them, he made things for me, and one year for Christmas he gave me a talking photo box. I'm sure you've seen them before - it's a box that you put pictures into, and you can record your voice on it, so when the recipient pushes the button, they can hear your voice. On the box, he had recorded himself saying, "Hey there, beautiful. Have a Merry Christmas, and never forget that I love you most." As a teen who was in love, I thought it was the sweetest, most romantic thing that ever existed, and I pushed that button a lot... so much so, in fact, that this was a conversation we thought it was funny to have with my nephew, who was not quite three at the time:
Me (or my sister, or whoever else wanted to laugh): What does a cow say?
Me: "What does a duck say?"
Nephew: "Quack quack!"
Me: "What does (the good ex) say?"
Nephew: "I love you most!"
Anyway, after we broke up during our freshman year of college, the photo box, the framed poems, and various other relationship souvenirs ended up in a box in the attic, where they've apparently been for about eight years.
But now that Mr. Darling and I are moving to a different state, my mom is bound and determined to get all of my junk out of her attic and basement before we leave and she's stuck with it for good. So last week, when Mr. Darling and I were over for dinner, my mom came downstairs with a few boxes of my stuff. Old clothes, pictures, and of course, the box of mementos from the good ex.
Obviously, Mr. Darling knows about the good ex. In fact, they even met soon after Mr. Darling and I started dating. But that still doesn't mean that I necessarily wanted a box of framed poems and pictures sitting on the table next to Mr. D. And what I really didn't want was for my mom to say, "I can't believe the batteries in that photo box still work! I pressed it just to find out!" But of course, that's what happened, which means that, before I could even react, Mr. Darling snatched the photo box out from under my hands and held it high above my head while repeatedly pressing the button.
Definitions of awkward may vary from place to place, but I'm pretty sure that standing there hearing your husband laugh while repeatedly listening to a recording of your ex-boyfriend tell you he loves you qualifies as awkward.
For a day or two afterwards, Mr. D kept saying to me, in his best "good ex" impression, "Hey there, beautiful! I love you most!"
The box is now in a landfill somewhere.
It's your turn! Share an awkward story on your blog, link back to mine, then put a link to your post in the box below!