Behind Hitsy

At the request of one of my lovely followers, I’m finally going to tell you more about my worst date ever.

And honestly… where do I even begin?

The first one that comes to mind is just painfully embarrassing. I’m almost 41 years old now, which means I have to dig nearly half a lifetime back into the deepest corners of my memory to find this one.

Okay. Let’s give it a try.

I was 19 years old and attending a folk high school in Bergen, Norway. It’s one of the largest folk high schools in the country, located on Norway's west coast.

Those of you who have read my book Stuck with You might already know what a folk high school is. But for those who don’t, it’s basically a school where you spend a year studying a subject based on your interests. I chose photography and video.

And it wasn’t just about going to classes.

You actually lived at the school that year. You ate there, slept there, and spent most of your time surrounded by the same people.

And yes, you usually had to share a room with someone else. The first rule was that you had to share with someone of the same gender, which I assume is probably the case at most boarding schools.

It was honestly a strange and wonderful year. You were 19, living away from home, and had this incredible amount of freedom. It felt like a year where you could basically do whatever you wanted without having to worry too much about the consequences.

I distinctly remember falling asleep in class more than once, curled up on the couch at the back of the classroom.

I was a shy girl back then. A cute one, apparently, because I was constantly being told that I was cute. I had light, shoulder-length hair with highlights, and I was probably a little too skinny.

I was, and still am, a bit of a tomboy.

You were more likely to find me sitting in front of a computer wearing baggy jeans and a black hoodie than dressed up and looking like I was trying to impress anyone.

I wasn’t exactly unpopular with the guys, but I was incredibly awkward and shy around them. I always felt like I said the wrong thing, or somehow managed to make every interaction more awkward than it needed to be.

And at that age, I loved boys.

Apparently, this was such a well-known fact that someone even wrote in the school yearbook that I loved boys.

I also absolutely hated being single.

What I wanted was a boyfriend who would take care of me. I was ridiculously romantic, and I genuinely dreamed about finding my one great love.

So, naturally, my brilliant solution to being a shy teenager was to sign up for a Norwegian website where you could create your own profile, upload a picture, and meet other people.

And since I was a pretty girl, I got quite a few messages on there. Which, of course, did wonders for my teenage self-esteem.

For about two weeks, I talked to a guy on the site, and I still don’t remember his name... I don’t even remember what he looked like.

Honestly, I don’t remember much about him at all.

Except for one thing: I thought he was insanely hot. Like… ridiculously hot. Much hotter than every single guy at my school put together.

As it turned out, he didn’t actually live that far from the school.

He told me he had recently become single, and apparently, he had been with his previous girlfriend since he was thirteen?!

Thirteen!

Looking back, that should probably have been my first warning sign. But at nineteen, I apparently had other priorities.

Eventually, we decided it was time to finally meet for a date.

I was supposed to walk to the nearest bus stop, where he would pick me up. And by “nearest,” I mean I had to walk ten kilometers to get there.

When I think about that now, I honestly have to ask myself: Why the hell didn’t he just pick me up at the school?!

I genuinely don’t remember... Maybe it was because I wanted the date to be a secret. I didn’t want anyone at school to know about it.

No one... Absolutely no one.

So I walked the ten kilometers to the bus stop, where I waited for him, and he was late.

I wandered around, tapping away on my phone, trying to look like I wasn’t standing there waiting for some incredibly hot guy I had been talking to online for two weeks.

And then, suddenly, I heard a loud stomp right behind me.

I jumped and spun around. And there he was, smiling at me, and I melted instantly.

Well…

Even today, I still find it slightly strange that he literally stomped his feet right behind me to get my attention.

But somehow, that’s one of the things I remember most clearly.

He suggested that we go for a drive and just cruise around for a while. When I got to his car, I immediately realized that this guy really liked cars.

The car was spotless... I mean spotless, and the passenger side was completely free of dust.

I probably should have realized right then that I needed to be very, very careful about what I did next.

Unfortunately… I wasn’t.

Once we were out on the road, I realized just how exhausted my legs were after walking ten kilometers. So without thinking twice, I kicked off my shoes and put my feet up on the dashboard.

That was, I think, the exact moment he realized it.

That I was not going to be his future girlfriend.

It took nothing more than one look from him, and that look said so much that I immediately understood I needed to get my feet off the dashboard.

So, being the absolute idiot that I was, I moved them onto the seat instead.

He went completely silent. At that point, I started insisting that I wanted to see where he lived.

Eventually, he gave in.

I remember us stopping outside a low apartment building. We climbed a few stairs and went up to his apartment.

I took off my shoes as I walked inside because, in my nineteen-year-old mind, I had already imagined exactly how this evening was going to go.

We were going to sit on the couch.

We were going to watch a movie.

And maybe, if I was lucky, I would even get to make out with this incredibly handsome guy.

In my head, I could already see it... We’d sit down on the couch, we’d get comfortable, and the chemistry would just… happen.

I had never really experienced bad chemistry with a guy before, so I simply assumed that if there wasn’t an instant spark, it would eventually come.

Surely it would get better. Right?

The problem was…

He never took his shoes off.

He just stood there in his shoes, and I remember thinking, Okay… apparently we’re not sitting on the couch.

Before I had time to figure out what was going on, he opened the front door again.

“We’re going for another drive,” he said.

Apparently, this man had decided that the solution to our incredibly awkward chemistry was to put me back inside his beloved car.

I figured he really must love that car, so I said okay and followed him back outside.

This time, I got into the passenger seat properly, with my shoes on, feet on the floor, and no touching the dashboard.

I had learned my lesson.

He started driving. And then I realized we were going the same way we’d come from.

He drove past the bus stop where he had picked me up, and then he crossed the bridge toward my school.

I assumed maybe he wanted to see the place. “Do you want to see my school?” I asked.

No answer... I looked at him.

Nothing. He just kept driving, and before I knew what was happening, we pulled up outside the school.

He stopped, and then he got out quickly. He walked around to my side, opened my door, and stood there looking at me.

“Out.”

That was it, one word.

“Out.”

I was so stunned that I just did what he said.

I got out of the car, and before I had even properly closed the door, he jumped back into his car and peeled away.

I’m pretty sure the entire school heard his tires screeching as he sped out of there.

And that was my date. Awww... Romance, true love, and the beginning of a beautiful relationship.

Or, apparently, a ten-kilometer walk, a spotless car, two feet on the wrong piece of upholstery, and being dumped outside my own school.

What happened afterward? I remember walking back into school and finding one of my friends.

I was crying, and I told her everything. Absolutely everything.

I told her how I had thought he was the hottest guy I had ever seen in my entire life.

Which is pretty damn ironic when you think about it, because to this day, I cannot remember what he looked like.

I don’t remember his name either.

But apparently, at nineteen, I was convinced he was the most beautiful man to ever walk the earth.

I told my friend the whole story in excruciating detail.

And after we had laughed about it through my tears, she listened for a while, nodded thoughtfully, and finally came to a conclusion.

“I think he expected you to be a carbon copy of his ex-girlfriend,” she said. “Maybe he was looking for someone to replace her so he could get over her.”

And honestly… That might actually have been the case.

I don’t remember everything we talked about that day, but there is one thing I do remember:

He talked about his ex-girlfriend.

A lot... Like… A LOT.

So maybe my friend had a point. Or maybe he simply couldn’t handle a girl who put her feet on the dashboard of his precious car.

I’ll never know, but one thing is certain:

I never saw him again.

And honestly? Probably for the best.