Whatever you do, be prepared…

It was a normal sunday during a normal year when I was 17. Sundays were never really exciting. There wasn’t a single reason to leave the house, so there wasn’t a single reason to put on make up or to dress up. I used to just pick some clothes and walk around looking ‘casual’. If only my family saw me, why would I do any effort? I’m vain, but also lazy. So to hell with it.

So I sat there, reading a magazine, casually as ever. Soon I’d do some more school related stuff, but I was  17 and life was easy, school was easy, everything was boring as it always was. How could I have foreseen what was about to happen? How should I have known? I only recently got to know we had nice neighbours, only four houses next to us, with even some kids a bit older than my brother and I. For years I suspected our street to be populated with old people. I was just sitting there, naive, not knowing what would happen next…

My parents, for some reason, left to see the neighbours and I could hear them return. But suddenly, I heard more than two voices. Wait – they were bringing someone? Oh noes, the neighbour. And I look bad. Sad thing. Wait – that’s not only the neighbour, that is, no wait, do I-

Damn.

A moment of silence. My parents, introducing me to the most handsome, good-looking, pretty, beautiful Son of the Neighbours. A guy like you imagine a beautiful guy. Someone who would make it in life, just graduated, smart, clever, living so close to us, standing so close in front of me.

Me. ‘Casual’. Looking crappy. Wearing some random clothes I could find. Without makeup. My hair quickly tied together.

Fuck.

My.

Life.

It traumatized me. For months I couldn’t stop thinking how stupid it all was, how I would never leave the house without makeup, o dear lord, what does he think of me…? Makeup was my dearest friend from then of. Never would I be trapped in such a situation again. I told my parents they should warn me (sirens, smoke signal, whatever) before bringing someone to our house on a Sunday. Slowly, the memory faded. No, that’s not true. I suppressed it. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have done what I did later on…

We went on a holiday, by car, and we returned on a random Friday. That holiday, I always met a friend on Friday, and as we arrived at home quite early, I decided we could still go for a drink that night. Of course I hadn’t done much effort to look good – sitting in a car for an entire day ruins every effort you do anyway. I still had the time to fix it at home, I thought. But as the hours passed by, I realized there wouldn’t be all too much time. Nah, whatever, I thought, and I left the house a bit in a hurry to be on time, by foot.

The gods conspired against me or something – right when I walked past The House of the Neighbours, the door opened and they all came out. The man, the woman, the wife of the eldest son, and then…

…the handsome son, in a white Hard Rock Cafe T-shirt. Looking better than ever. And I, I walked right, almost straight out of the car. Makeup? Barely. Nice hair? To be washed. Face overall? Let’s not think about it. Fuck my life. Again.

Since that day, I understood all hope was lost – I had to let him go. He had seen me in the worst situation. Our love was doomed to die. I decided I loved him enough to let him be happy with a girl who was fully in makeup when he met for the first time.

Ahem.

A lot of months have passed, but believe me, never have I been tricked again. I’ve been in a similar situation several times, but each time I was prepared. I’ve seen friends of a friend on the bus I take each Sunday, and I always wore makeup. I’ve met that friend several times out of the blue, but I always wore something nice.

You never know who’ll you meet somewhere.

Preparation is everything.