When I was 9 years old, I devised a plan to make the lovely, if gangly, Carlene McGriffith fall desperately in love with me. I knew I needed a really good plan, because even if love is blind, Carlene wasn't.

The best way to describe my looks back then was "awkward". "He's in that awkward stage," was my mother's favorite phrase for me in elementary school. Also junior high, high school, and college. My haircut wasn't helping me in the looks department, either. According to an authoritative website I just found by Ed Friedlander, "in the mid-1950's, the flattop was the most popular men's hairstyle in the United States." Unfortunately, this was in the 1980s, so I looked like Vanilla Ice's midget cousin.

My best friend Ernie was Carlene's brother. They lived next door to me, but Carlene hardly acknowledged my existence. She was a full year older and worldly in ways I could only imagine, despite frequent attempts to spy on her during sleepovers at Ernie's.

Ernie was no help, and refused to drill a network of spy holes so I could see into Carlene's room. Ernie failed to comprehend my affection for his sister; he called her Uglene.

So I turned to my Uncle Rodney for advice. Uncle Rodney knew everything about women, because he'd been married seven times and all my Aunts agreed, "Rodney is a real piece of work!"

Uncle Rodney's advice: "Grow a mustache. Mine's a real heartbreaker." He recalled fondly, fingering the dead rat over his lip, "You wouldn't believe how many times women have cried just THINKING about this mustache!"

Mustache, check!

"They also love a man who smells great, and nothing makes a man smell better than plenty of aftershave. Heck, with a bottle of aftershave, you don't even have to shower!"

This advice was gold! I was never going to shower again!

What else?

"Oh, and they love jewelry, too! Can't go wrong with jewelry, just make sure it's cheap stuff because they'll never know the difference anyway."

Wow! I had to get time alone with Carlene as soon as possible — Uncle Rodney was so good, if I waited too long, she might fall for HIM by osmosis.

I got Ernie on the phone right away. "Sure," Ernie said, "you can stay at my house this weekend! My sister is having her Scout troop over, so we can steal their cookies."

When I showed up at Ernie's on Saturday, Carlene's mother answered the door. I always had trouble talking around Mrs. McGriffith — she was walking, jiggling proof that Carlene wouldn't be gangly forever. Mrs. McGriffith took one look at me and nearly choked on her martini.

"It's okay Mrs. McGriffith, that's just my new manstache!"

I had gathered up everything I could find on the barber shop floor and glued the hair all over my face for that extra manly look. The glue kind of smelled bad, but I was able to cover the stink with an entire bottle of Drakar Noir that Uncle Rodney gave me. And I'd finished off the look with $4.25 worth of "jewelry" from the gumball machine over at the IGA.

But I was too manly for my own good. Poor Mrs. McGriffith must have been frightened to feel such a strange and powerful attraction for me, because she confiscated my candy rings and candy necklaces and forced me to go clean up. I just barely caught a glimpse of Carlene and her Scout troop playing in the living room as I was whisked into the bathroom and told to shower away my manstache and my Drakar Noir.

So much for Plan A. I racked my brain in the shower. What could make Carlene fall hopelessly in love with me?

Maybe I could save her life? If I could steal a crocodile from the zoo, with the right planning — "My mom keeps her makeup in here," I heard Carlene say. She opened the bathroom door and the Girl Scouts flooded in. I was trapped behind clear, glass shower doors.

So I started flexing in Hulk Hogan poses.

Who cares if Carlene laughed the loudest? I was pretty sure this counted as first base, and I still had the whole weekend ahead of me!

Copyright © 2006 Andy Murphy
Please do not remove the copyright from this work.

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