Member-only story
The Terrible Day I Realized I Would Never Be Cool
You can debate nature vs nurture but I blame the Smurfs.
As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be a gangster, to be cool. However, as far back as I can remember I was always uncool. All it took was a music appreciation day in my first-grade class to let me know I was forever doomed to be square.
I’ve tried over the years to change things up and make myself seem a little hipper or edgier. My Star Wars t-shirts of the early ’80s helped me blend in, but my C3PO sneakers were a step too far. I didn’t tell the kids who made fun of my shoes about my Luke Skywalker bedspread or my R2D2 alarm clock. (sidenote — I’d happily chug a pint of Dagobah swamp water to have this stuff back.)
In middle school when the other boys began wearing Levis jeans, I begged my mom to buy me a pair. Ever the frugal woman, she opted for something called Smack's jeans with what looked like a lipstick kiss on the right butt cheek. Not cool, mom. Not cool.
I had my left ear pierced in 1989 and bought a gold cross earring, hoping some of that Bon Jovi sex appeal might rub off on me. However, I was blessed with meaty earlobes that refused to be pierced. I walked around town with a red, festering wound for two weeks before deciding I gave lobes a bad name.
