Written for my Creative Non-Fiction Writing class in early 2016.
In Defense of Pickup Lines
By C. Randall Nicholson
Nikia Arquette was the most beautiful girl in the twelfth grade, so naturally I, a mousy freshman in the same study hall, was terrified of her. I happened to share a table with her cousin and another girl who, as soon as they found out I had a crush on her, tried to help me out by teaching me the art of pickup lines. They told me to go up to her and say, "Are you a parking ticket? ‘Cause you’ve got 'fine' written all over you."
My mother didn't approve of pickup lines. "Women are intelligent creatures that deserve respect," she said, "and pickup lines aren’t respectful." Personally, I was less concerned with being respectful than with not being murdered, so I didn’t dare follow these girls' advice anyway.
Fast forward a few years to when I was a senior myself and had lightened up just a little. It was December 2010, and my family was visiting my grandparents in Hudson Falls, New York. I had been to my grandmother’s LDS ward enough times that I knew most of the youth and they thought I was really cool for some reason, so I always enjoyed visiting. On this occasion one of them, a lovely young lady named Katrina Barnard, was going around asking everyone, "Can I take your picture? I need to show Santa what I want for Christmas."
Oh, that is genius, I thought.
Upon my return to school, I used that line on every girl I knew, which was a lot, since my school was so small that virtually everyone in every grade was on a first name basis with everyone else. Because they knew me I wasn’t concerned that they would take my wonderful new pickup line seriously, and indeed they didn't. They just chuckled or rolled their eyes or both. That is, until I said it to a mousy freshman girl who, although I knew her name – Carly Andrews* – I had never spoken to before.
She immediately blushed, tried to cover up her blushing, and convulsed with uncontrollable laughter. I was so surprised and pleased with this reaction that I decided not to leave it at that.
"Are you a parking ticket?" I said. "'Cause you've got 'fine' written all over you."
More blushing. More laughter. I kept at it, and that set the mock-flirtatious tone for our friendship for a while. I was simultaneously confident because she was younger and timid because she was a girl, so I flirted shamelessly and opened up to her about a lot of things – including things that I probably should have kept to myself – yet sometimes felt too shy to talk to her and just followed her around. Most of our communications were via text message. I called her "Sweetie Pumpkin" until one day she said, "You can't call me Sweetie Pumpkin anymore. That's what my boyfriend calls me. Think of something else."
There was some awkwardness when I found out she was a witch – her word, not mine. That was only a few months after I had (unwisely) responded to a faith crisis by doubling down and becoming more fundamentalist, so I was freaking out inside about Satanic powers and things like that. I looked on lds.org for advice and found Exodus 22:18, "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live." Awkward. Fortunately the Joseph Smith Translation changed "witch" to "murderer" so that got me off the hook there. The other results were mostly about Halloween costumes, and everyone ignored me when I asked for advice on an LDS message board, so after a little while I realized this apparently wasn’t a big deal after all and got over it.
She mentioned something about an ability to make bad things happen to people, but other than that her belief system seemed to be pretty innocuous pagan communion-with-nature kind of stuff. She talked about being pressured to convert to Christianity and said she was afraid because it was still technically legal to kill witches. I joked about her casting a spell on me to make me have a crush on her. She had to make sure I didn’t seriously think that. With permission, I called her "my sweet little witch" sometimes.
When I left New York, Carly was one of approximately four people I bothered to stay in touch with. When I was overwhelmed by the sight of all the people and activities on USU campus a few days before classes were set to start, and wondered what I was getting myself into and how I would ever survive, she was the one I confided in. That isn’t to say we talked very often, but I thought about her and checked in every once in a while, which is more than I did for almost anyone. She frequently told me about how her latest boyfriend had left her or gone to jail or whatever.
Some of her texts over the years stand out in my mind. "Tehe. You used to stalk me… It was adorable. It made me feel special." Like I said, I was just too shy sometimes. "I mean, you're not like Captain America sexy. But you're so cute." Eventually I got over the disappointment of not being as sexy as a fictional superhero. "So I know you can't have sex, but would you ever try anal?" Whenever Mormons ask each other what’s the weirdest question they’ve ever been asked about Mormons, I want to bring this up, but I feel like it would be a conversation killer.
Carly had said that she wanted to see me when I came home for Christmas after my first semester, but I was depressed and didn’t think anyone cared about me and so I didn’t think she really meant it and so I didn’t bother arranging that. I texted her a halfhearted apology while waiting for my plane to take off back to Utah, and to my surprise she actually was upset. When I came home for Christmas again two years later I tried to arrange it but she never responded for some reason. Finally, at the very end of August 2015 I went home for a week and we managed to meet up.
I was already feeling extra nostalgic and appreciative of my childhood house and hometown, as if I somehow sensed that my parents would decide to move out of state shortly thereafter and I might never see it again. I felt more nostalgic when I saw her. Gone was the mousy freshman. In her place was a confident, fully grown woman. There was no flirtation anymore, just friendship.
"What do you want to do?" she asked. Since there was nothing to do, we just went for a drive. She took me on roads and through towns that I had never seen before while growing up, probably because there was nothing to do there either. As we drove she talked a lot about why she had left her ex-boyfriend and her fascination with plants, and we discussed plenty of things in between – mainly life, love, and politics. We drove for an hour, and then it had to end because she was really busy preparing to leave the area for good.
I asked if she would miss her family. She said no. I asked if she still kept in touch with people from high school. She said only about three people, which was about the same as me.
"I hated high school," she said. "You were one of the only people who was nice to me."
I realized then that the silly pickup line with which I introduced myself to her was probably one of the most important things I’ve ever said.
*Name has been changed.
My mother didn't approve of pickup lines. "Women are intelligent creatures that deserve respect," she said, "and pickup lines aren’t respectful." Personally, I was less concerned with being respectful than with not being murdered, so I didn’t dare follow these girls' advice anyway.
Fast forward a few years to when I was a senior myself and had lightened up just a little. It was December 2010, and my family was visiting my grandparents in Hudson Falls, New York. I had been to my grandmother’s LDS ward enough times that I knew most of the youth and they thought I was really cool for some reason, so I always enjoyed visiting. On this occasion one of them, a lovely young lady named Katrina Barnard, was going around asking everyone, "Can I take your picture? I need to show Santa what I want for Christmas."
Oh, that is genius, I thought.
Upon my return to school, I used that line on every girl I knew, which was a lot, since my school was so small that virtually everyone in every grade was on a first name basis with everyone else. Because they knew me I wasn’t concerned that they would take my wonderful new pickup line seriously, and indeed they didn't. They just chuckled or rolled their eyes or both. That is, until I said it to a mousy freshman girl who, although I knew her name – Carly Andrews* – I had never spoken to before.
She immediately blushed, tried to cover up her blushing, and convulsed with uncontrollable laughter. I was so surprised and pleased with this reaction that I decided not to leave it at that.
"Are you a parking ticket?" I said. "'Cause you've got 'fine' written all over you."
More blushing. More laughter. I kept at it, and that set the mock-flirtatious tone for our friendship for a while. I was simultaneously confident because she was younger and timid because she was a girl, so I flirted shamelessly and opened up to her about a lot of things – including things that I probably should have kept to myself – yet sometimes felt too shy to talk to her and just followed her around. Most of our communications were via text message. I called her "Sweetie Pumpkin" until one day she said, "You can't call me Sweetie Pumpkin anymore. That's what my boyfriend calls me. Think of something else."
There was some awkwardness when I found out she was a witch – her word, not mine. That was only a few months after I had (unwisely) responded to a faith crisis by doubling down and becoming more fundamentalist, so I was freaking out inside about Satanic powers and things like that. I looked on lds.org for advice and found Exodus 22:18, "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live." Awkward. Fortunately the Joseph Smith Translation changed "witch" to "murderer" so that got me off the hook there. The other results were mostly about Halloween costumes, and everyone ignored me when I asked for advice on an LDS message board, so after a little while I realized this apparently wasn’t a big deal after all and got over it.
She mentioned something about an ability to make bad things happen to people, but other than that her belief system seemed to be pretty innocuous pagan communion-with-nature kind of stuff. She talked about being pressured to convert to Christianity and said she was afraid because it was still technically legal to kill witches. I joked about her casting a spell on me to make me have a crush on her. She had to make sure I didn’t seriously think that. With permission, I called her "my sweet little witch" sometimes.
When I left New York, Carly was one of approximately four people I bothered to stay in touch with. When I was overwhelmed by the sight of all the people and activities on USU campus a few days before classes were set to start, and wondered what I was getting myself into and how I would ever survive, she was the one I confided in. That isn’t to say we talked very often, but I thought about her and checked in every once in a while, which is more than I did for almost anyone. She frequently told me about how her latest boyfriend had left her or gone to jail or whatever.
Some of her texts over the years stand out in my mind. "Tehe. You used to stalk me… It was adorable. It made me feel special." Like I said, I was just too shy sometimes. "I mean, you're not like Captain America sexy. But you're so cute." Eventually I got over the disappointment of not being as sexy as a fictional superhero. "So I know you can't have sex, but would you ever try anal?" Whenever Mormons ask each other what’s the weirdest question they’ve ever been asked about Mormons, I want to bring this up, but I feel like it would be a conversation killer.
Carly had said that she wanted to see me when I came home for Christmas after my first semester, but I was depressed and didn’t think anyone cared about me and so I didn’t think she really meant it and so I didn’t bother arranging that. I texted her a halfhearted apology while waiting for my plane to take off back to Utah, and to my surprise she actually was upset. When I came home for Christmas again two years later I tried to arrange it but she never responded for some reason. Finally, at the very end of August 2015 I went home for a week and we managed to meet up.
I was already feeling extra nostalgic and appreciative of my childhood house and hometown, as if I somehow sensed that my parents would decide to move out of state shortly thereafter and I might never see it again. I felt more nostalgic when I saw her. Gone was the mousy freshman. In her place was a confident, fully grown woman. There was no flirtation anymore, just friendship.
"What do you want to do?" she asked. Since there was nothing to do, we just went for a drive. She took me on roads and through towns that I had never seen before while growing up, probably because there was nothing to do there either. As we drove she talked a lot about why she had left her ex-boyfriend and her fascination with plants, and we discussed plenty of things in between – mainly life, love, and politics. We drove for an hour, and then it had to end because she was really busy preparing to leave the area for good.
I asked if she would miss her family. She said no. I asked if she still kept in touch with people from high school. She said only about three people, which was about the same as me.
"I hated high school," she said. "You were one of the only people who was nice to me."
I realized then that the silly pickup line with which I introduced myself to her was probably one of the most important things I’ve ever said.
*Name has been changed.
