Dear Sig: The Saga Continues

When last we left the saga, Cleveland's lake effect snow had failed to providentially strand my fourth grade crush, Sig, at my house mid-blizzard. (Thanks for nothing, Lake Erie.) I was 99% sure that Sig was into me, because sometimes he would, like, look at me in class. The problem: He also tended to gaze at my friend Jessica. Another problem: Jessica liked him too. And also: Jessica was, oh, only the most lusted-after girl in school.

So we did what any girls in our situation would do: We wrote Sig a letter telling him we liked him. Both of us. Me and my infinitely more alluring romantic rival. Together. Because I was a genius. And then we were like, "Which one of us you do like—that is, like like—more? OUT WITH IT, MAN!"

But Sig was not playing our game. He wrote back saying that we were both pretty (wooooooo!), and that he liked BOTH of us and couldn't decide. Which was a) totally baffling (really? he didn't like Jessica more? JESSICA??) and b) totally frustrating.

It also meant that the letters continued. Because Jessica may have been a gajillion times more popular with the boyfolk, but I could surely win him over with my... erm... heart-shaped stationery? The following letter was typed (how casual!) on paper that looked like this:

Raise your hand if you're embarrassed already.

Pre-letter disclaimer: Obviously I never sent this to him, because I still have it in my possession. What I don't know is whether or not I mailed off a later draft. Please, God, I pray that I did not.

July 15, 1988

Dear Sig,

Tomorrow I'm going on vacation. We're going to (in order) Brockport (to see my friends Brendan and Caitlin), Canada (to camp), Gasport (to see my cousins, Bonnie and Jimmy), and Lockport (to see my cousins, Stephanie and the twins, Steven and Michael).*

*The "ports" are in New York.

Yes, my letter included a footnote. Did I know how to woo a 10-year-old boy or WHAT? Oh, and a previous letter must have suggested a picture exchange, because after the really thrilling description of my upcoming trip, I launch into this:

Oh, I don't have any decent pictures to send you right now. I'm going to try and get my mom to take some acceptable ones while we're away.

Er, like this one?

There is absolutely nothing acceptable about those bangs.

Oh, I'm sorry, did I forget to mention that this was the Worst Cut Era? Yeah. You know how people sometimes refer to giant '80s bangs as "The Claw"? Mine were more along the lines of "Satan's Gimpy, Gnarled Hand." So I had that going for me. But wait! There's more!

My boyfriend thinks I looked like one of the Ramones.
Every young girl's dream!

Oh yeah, these pictures were going to make him forget allllll about Jessica. Also, notice how I'm close-lipped in all of the shots? That's because I'd recently acquired a mouthful of metal. Hot, right? Jessica WHO??

Are you going to send yours? The three of us, you know, you, me, Jessica, should all get together soon and talk.

I'm sure Sig was just counting down the days until he could be hounded about this in person instead of via the USPS.

Have you told anyone about this? Well, Jess and I told Katie, the three of us are best friends. I doubt there's anything left to say.

Good instinct, Sada! Keep it short and sweet. The less you say, the less likely you are to utterly humiliate yourself. Just sign your name and we'll—oh CRAP—

Well, I just wish you'd like me more than Jessica. Everyone likes Jessica. The boys, I mean. When they look at me they say, "Ew, gross, contact" or something similar.

"Contact" was something that you would say to protect yourself against the germs of unpopularity. Like, say someone's hand accidentally brushed against [Insert name of unpopular child] while waiting in line for the slide; that person would then have the [Name of unpopular kid] Touch, and would have to rid him or herself of said Touch by thrusting it upon an unsuspecting victim. The ONLY WAY to avoid getting The Touch was to yell, "Contact!" or, if you were feeling charitable, "Contact! Detours! Force field!" If I remember correctly, this was a more powerful form of Contact that would also protect any friends in your immediate vicinity.

So, to sum up: Everyone with a wang lurves Jessica, and they find me so repellent that they must verbally arm themselves against my cooties. Just, like, in case you forgot, Sig! (You guys, I don't even know. Was I going for the PITY LIKE? Oh, the shame.)

It's nice to know that someone, besides my family and friends thinks I'm pretty.

Because—news flash!—boys think I am The Ug.

I think you're cute. Us girls call boys "cute" if they look good.

Good thing I let him in on that big secret! Jessica recently reminded me of a later incident in which we were walking to her house and Sig had joined us (hi, he obvs liked us!), and we started telling him how comely he was.

comely adj. Vocabulary word courtesy of Judy Blume. According to Rachel Robinson, it means "attractive . . . good looking . . . cute . . ."

Shockingly, Sig managed to glean the meaning from context. The context being along the lines of "Oh, Sig, you are soooooooOOOOOOOoooooooo COMELY!"

And then I ended the letter with:

L*O*V*E,
S*A*D*A

L*O*V*E? I'll tell you what I loved: asterisks. Sweet Jesus.

P.S. WRITE BACK SOON

P.P.S. If you get a letter from Rachel, don't write her back.

Because no letter is complete without a dig at Rachel! I think that ultimately only a couple of letters were exchanged (I don't see why Sig wouldn't have written back ASAP!), but I do remember that he gave both Jessica and I pink-and-purple friendship bracelets that he made for us. (ZOMG, a boy made me something! This was almost as cool as being in a skateboard gang!!)

I didn't keep a diary in fifth grade, but there's a mention in my school journal about Sig and his puppy stopping by Jessica's house while I was over (me: apparently unfazed that he was randomly stopping by Jessica's? or did we invite him?). That year Sig played the lead in our school play, The Emperor's New Clothes. Of course, he wasn't actually NAKED, but we had to pretend that he was. You can imagine the maniacal giggling that occurred.

And I would insist on going to Family Skate at the ice rink every freaking week because Sig went too and sometimes he would skate with me for a bit (woooooooo! again). The most dramatic Family Skate event involved my friend Casey, who broke her leg while skating with me and had to be carried off the ice by Sig's dad—oh, the mortification! Afterward Sig skated up to me and said, "The bigger they are, the harder they fall, huh?" I still don't know what he meant by that. In hindsight, I think he was just trying to make conversation, but in the moment, I was infuriated that he dare cast aspersions on my injured friend, and I came back with this incredibly witty rejoinder: "Well, I guess Casey must have a really big LEG then!!!" Um... ? What does that even MEAN?? (I don't know, but I was definitely mad at him for, like, at least two days.)

I do have some dishy materials from a sleepover with Katie. First of all, we rated ten of the boys in our class (as preteen girls are wont to do) on a scale of 1–10. I rated Sig the highest with a 9½; the baby-faced new boy Aaron, who lived a few doors down from Sig, a 7; and the remaining boys in the 2 to 6 range. Harsh! Katie, meanwhile, gave Sig a 10, when she supposedly liked Nathan—whom she only rated a 9! WTF, Katie?!

Also, to answer your question: YES, for some reason I have kept a copy of fifth grade boy ratings for TWENTY YEARS. There's obviously something wrong with me. But! Below the Boy Ratings, there's a list of the following:

People (or things) that go together in our grade:

1. Rebecca and Nathan
2. Sig and Jessica
3. Katie and Chuck [Chuck was the "hot stable boy" where Katie rode horses. Except for the part where he didn't actually exist. We started to get suspicious when we realized his letters were all written in Katie's handwriting.]
4. Rachel and Yoav
5. Michael and Laura [crossed out, I suppose, after they "broke up"]

But yes, did you see #2? It's true. The inevitable happened: Sig asked Jessica to "go with him." I was crushed. (Actually, I was home sick that day, and I don't really remember what happened. But I'm sure I was crushed.) And my family had just moved onto his very street! But, oh, what did it matter now?

I tried briefly to focus my attentions on Aaron, the new boy, despite the fact that he was only a 7. And by "focus my attentions" I mean "fantasize that I might lure him to my house to play a few rounds on our awesome new mini-pinball machine." But then all the other girls decided they liked Aaron too (one friend even puffy-painted "I ♥ Aaron" on her socks, so you know she meant business), so I was like, screw this. Plus, living on Sig's street meant that sometimes he would bike past my house. Like, while Bon Jovi was poignantly singing "I'll Be There for You" in the background. I swear to you.

So, he may have picked Jessica, but whatever—this shit was clearly meant to be. I knew it; Jon Bon Jovi knew it; and in his heart, I believed Sig knew it too. On the other side of the "Boy Ratings" paper is a list entitled "Who Boys Like," and you know who's listed under Sig? That's right: Jessica and Sada. I was keeping the dream alive, you guys. KEEPING THE DREAM ALIVE.

The saga? To Be Continued...

Also, in my dedication to embarrassing myself as much as humanly possible (and because, hey, I wondered what he was up to), I did it: I TRACKED SIG DOWN. And I sent him a link to The Sig Saga. Oh yeah I did. However, because he has the memory of a normal person instead of, like, a freaky computer elephant (ahem), he didn't recall too many of the specifics. He did say: "Offhand what I remember is having to deal with the barrage of notes and letters and phone calls from you girls when all I really wanted to do was jump my bike off the curb or play street hockey." Which... yep. That sounds about right.

One of the best parts, though, is how I finally found him: through my third grade crush, Andrew. That's right, people. I've been e-mailing all the boys I had the hots for in elementary school. I even confessed my crush-of-old to Andrew (he was not, I'm pleased to report, the recipient of any third grade letters) and he wrote back that he had a crush on—I am not even making this up!—JESSICA. Of course he did.

NEXT TIME: A rare look into the mind of the fifth grade boy! My brother proves that snarkiness runs in the family.

The Sig Saga

If you've been reading this blog, you've probably realized that I have an almost creepily good memory. And as far back as that memory goes, I have always liked (or, ahem, been utterly obsessed with) boys. For reals: My most vivid preschool memories involve a boy who used to pull up his shirt and chase the girls around bare-chested. Once he kissed me on a field trip to the fire station. Yeah, we were four. HOT.

The start of a new school year nearly always meant the beginning of a year-long one-sided love affair with some poor, unsuspecting boy in my class. Fourth grade was no different. The object of my infatuation that year had blue eyes, spiky blond hair, and an extremely German name: Sigfrid. My first fourth grade diary (yes, there are two) pretty much serves as a log for any and all interaction with Sig—which had to be examined in microscopic detail, for surely therein lay clues that could solve the mystery of whether or not he liked me back. The second diary, on the other hand, just heaps on the histrionics. Perhaps this was around the time I started watching As The World Turns with my grandma?

Check out my sweet, super inconspicuous first diary:


The first entry starts out with a bang! Or at least a dull thud:

8/18/87
Michael hit me with stones. I hate him! We got home [from vacation, I'm assuming] today. Katie's number was busy. Tawana gave us a bunny mystery!

Remember when people didn't have call waiting? Dang, I feel old.

8/30/87
I talked to Katie today. I read a book and even though I didn't want my period - now I do. My breasts are already going.

They so were not.

I want a bra for Christmas.

I so did not get one. The closest I came to brassiere ownership was a hand-me-down spandex Wonder Woman bra-resembling undershirt that I liked to pretend was the real deal.

9/6/87
Katie is on vacation. I'm hating 4th grade. Who's That Girl tonite.

Please note: Fourth grade had not even started yet. Also, we saw Who's That Girl at the drive-in as part of a double feature with Can't Buy Me Love! I know. That might be too much '80s cinemagic for my brain to handle.

9/25/87
I had a great day except for the awful thing about Velvet.

Our neighbor's pet rabbit, Velvet, died. But on to more important things, like... SIG!

Sig definitely likes me. I thought he liked Jessica. Beep!

I think that's supposed to be a game show noise signifying an incorrect answer, not a car honking. And just why am I so sure the survey says that Sig likes me?

When Mrs. Acar asked him if he wanted to (she couldn't see him) move he said no! He was sitting next to me!

Obviously he is madly in love with me.

Show off stage. Got to call Katie.

Oh, Katie and I were definitely the collective Jane Goodall of boys with our astute observations of behaviors such as the "show off stage."

Shannon was over yesterday. Jess, Shan, and I have crushes on Sig.

I'm sure that's not going to be a problem.

10/8/87
Today Sig showed us the note. It's Rachel, really, she even told Katie. Sig's gonna fake her out! Anyway, I kinda like him.

Phhht.

I don't want my period anymore! Ty is coming over tommorow. Jess is in (I envy her) California!

10/9/87
Ty came over- we called Sig and he hung up! And today when Ms. G.B. asked Aja a question and Sig answered she asked him if he was Aja and he said "No, I'm Sada."

This was Exhibit A among the most compelling evidence pointing to "he likes me! he likes me!": He said my name out loud—but more importantly, UNPROMPTED—in class. I was apparently unfazed by the fact that he hung up on me when I called him later that same day.

We are doing a play called school daze [penned by my friend Ty] and Sig is my boyfriend [in the play only, but oh, how I wished life would imitate art!]. Andy G. said Yoav liked me last week. I am just about going nuts. I really like Sig. When he was on the phone I felt all weird.

Notice the change in my tune since, uh, yesterday, when I "kinda" liked him.

Rags to Riches wasn't on so-I-'Full House'.

p.s. When Sig was moved to 4-A he asked me if I was glad.

What does it all mean??? (For the record, I was definitely not glad.)

10/27/87
Yesterday Nate J. was telling everybody about the chair incident.

That would be when he pulled my chair out from under me as I was sitting down, causing me to fall flat on my ass.

I know Sig was gonna laugh and he looked at me and then he said "We used to do that all the time in kindergarten."

I truly, truly believed he was defending my honor with that comment.

I wish he would just come out and say it. Yoav might like Katie. We're gonna ask Sig who he likes at lunch tomorrow.

p.s. I still like him a little.

12/12/87
Sig just makes me mad. The other day in gym people were telling him to throw the ball to me. (I can't catch it)

Sad, but true.

He looked at me and threw it to someone else. Good. I got moved to Mrs. Turners room and I sit one seat away from him! By the way no one sits in the seat between us.

Yes, clearly I have no feelings for him anymore.

Ty hurt her foot and hates Yoav now! Unbeliveable! She sits near Sig in homeroom! Good.

3/4/88
Ty likes Sig now. I like him a lot again.

You don't say!

When we were coming up from chorus he asked me if I was gonna be anyone in 'Cinderella'. He said it in a real sweet tone.

What is "sweet" about asking someone if they're going to be in the school play? It was probably more along the lines of "mundane."

When I said I was gonna stay he agreed with me. He sat near me in S.S. Our band's name is Girls will be Girls.

More about my illustrious musical career in the next blog entry. Pinkie swear!

P.S. I went to the circus and Kingdom on ice with Katie. Yoav likes her. Mike loves Jess. I think about a skateboard gang.

I had some sort of ongoing fantasy in which my friends and our respective crushes were part of a skateboard gang. The details are fuzzy, but it definitely involved us tooling around town, looking cool, completely cool, via skateboard.

My other main fantasy was that there would be a raging blizzard or other weather-related disaster that would kick into high gear at the exact moment that Sig and his mom happened to be driving past my house. As such, they'd be forced to pull over and seek refuge with us for days on end until the roads were safe again.

Yeah. Me learning how to skateboard was more realistic.

5/27/88
I caught Sig looking at me 2 times. He was smiling. Jessica, Katie, and I admitted we all like him. UNBELIEVABLE. We (the 3 of us) have a band called the Go-go's.


I love how the band name has changed since the last entry. And that we were so lazy we resorted to stealing the name of a super popular band already in existence. Belinda Carlisle would have sued our 10-year-old asses.

6-2-88
Sig called Fatso [erm, my sister—sorry, Genie!] back today. He was gonna hang up, but, he stayed on to talk to me! Jess and I are getting papers to mark down when he looks at us. We'll show them to him at the end of the year.

We did tally all of the lustful (er, coincidental?) glances, but THANK GOD we thought better of turning the papers over to him at the year's end.

Now only Jess and I have crushes on him. We ♥ Sig! Especially me. His # 555-9738.

Because knowing his phone number definitely proves that my love is superior to Jessica's.

With the next entry, I switched from my TOP SECRET notebook to a real diary with a lock and everything.


I also decided that I needed to step up the drama. Like, a LOT.

June 24, 1988
Thank you, Aja, for this diary. A real one! Today was my birthday. Fun. Well, Jessica and I really did it. We told Sig we liked him [in] the letter and (I) mailed [it]. Now he knows.

Why in God's name did I think this was a good idea? Jessica, although one of my best friends, was also the "hot girl" in the fourth grade (....and before the fourth grade ...and after) and I was... well, you've seen the seventh grade photo. I can't remember who came up with the plan, but we decided to write him a letter telling him that we both liked him and asking him which one of us he liked back. Brilliant.

I seriously want to go with him. Jess is pretty confident he'll go with her. She's probably right. The boys would practically stand in line to go with her. I wish for once it could be different!

June 25
Thank you, Katie, for having faith in me. You think Sig'll go with me. Well, Katie, I'm trying to think positive. I fantasize all the time [...about skateboard gangs and serendipitous blizzards]. It's natural.

Thanks, Judy Blume, for assuring me of that.

I think about him all of the time. I can't stop. It's so hard to keep a secret from everybody. Lie. That's all I do anymore. I can't face the truth. I'm scared of the truth. I'm always putting on a big act for not being an actress! I pretend to hate Sig, when the truth is I love him.

—S.R.P.

The HELL? It's like I started writing the screenplay for A Few Good Men. Exactly who did I think I was fooling???

June 26
There's not too much to say about today, except two words: cold, boring. Of course, I thought of Sig, but that's something I always do anyway. I keep hoping he'll write back soon. I'm almost sure he got his letter. I need him!

Oy vey.

I can't believe I might actually live on his street.

I did end up moving onto his street, about a block or so away, during fifth grade. My friend Katie conveniently lived about a block from him in the other direction. Believe you me, this led to many, many walks to and from our houses during which my shoelace would "accidentally" become "untied," forcing me to stop in front of Sig's house for extended periods of time. Often when my shoes did not even have laces.

It's time to face the truth, so here goes nothing: I LOVE SIG!

—S.R.P.

July 5
Well, he got the letter, wrote back, and we wrote him back.

To his credit, Sig wrote back and said he liked both of us and couldn't decide who he liked better. I know! I kind of still can't believe it! We must have scared the living crap out of him.

I said I NEED TO KNOW [that's a direct quote from my follow-up letter] who he likes better. Well, he didn't write back so, we couldn't wait. We called him. He wrote back. We just didn't recieve the letter yet. He can't decide. I feel like I'm trapped inside a crazy soap opera.

Degrassi Elementary?

I'm trying to get him to decide. We, the 3 of us, might go to a movie.

—S.R.P.

Because a group date was surely the answer to this problem! But don't worry, because like the best-laid of fourth grade plans, it never happened.

I think my "trying to get him to decide" strategy was to write Sig info-packed letters that would help him get to know me—and therefore loooooove me—better. The letters were typically about my vacation and/or attendance at Indians baseball games, and often included lists of my vital statistics and assorted favorite things (e.g., favorite animal: rabbit), all typed up on heart-shaped stationery. Fortunately, most of them never made it to the mailbox.

I somehow suffered through the long, indecisive summer and entered fifth grade. But because my love for Sig was like an eternal flame (or at least a three-year flame, which is pretty much an eternity at that age), there is way more melodrama where this came from. We'll get to it in due time, I swear. The saga is far from over.

NEXT TIME: As promised, my side career as a singer/songwriter. That means angst-ridden lyrics and more fourth grade band names than you can shake a stick at!