I've known Marissa since birth. Our moms have been best friends ever since they came to Detroit. They met on the plane ride here after leaving Nigeria. Maybe that's why I tolerated Marissa—because our parents were best friends, so that made us automatically best friends too. I feel like Disney had a huge part in this. After seeing all those best friends on TV, I felt like I had to be like them, have best friends and boyfriends just like they did.
But sadly, Marissa was nothing like the Disney characters. Instead, she was annoying. And I mean really annoying. She would always force me to be the husband when we played family, or the prince when we played Princess and Prince. I despised it, but I couldn't do anything about it.
As we grew, she became more clingy, embarrassing, and judgmental, which pissed me off more and more. For example, when we'd go out in public, she'd wear 3D bubble pants and talk really loudly, which I hated with my quiet nature. But the worst part was that she'd have the nerve to judge other people while wearing those 3D bubble pants from Walmart that would glow every time light reflected off them. Nothing against Walmart, but those pants were a sin. I'm sure even God would agree.
All of this led to the "sixth-grade argument" when I called her annoying and clingy. She was pissed, so she called me a crybaby, gullible, and a bitch.
I had never been called a bitch until that day. I didn't even know what it meant. All I knew was that it was a really mean word to call a girl. And the fact that it came from my then-best friend made it even worse. I ran crying to the girls' changing room, and Graham followed me. (He made sure no girls were there before coming in.)
After that fight, I didn't talk to her for a year. Then Joyce came along, and I guess she reunited us? I don't know. It was weird because we never talked about what happened, we just acted as if nothing had. We kept it that way. But Marissa never really changed—only her style did, and thank the Lord for that, because her old style was disgusting! But in all seriousness, I feel like part of me still hated her. She didn't change—she was still annoying, judgmental, clingy, and embarrassing. Especially embarrassing, like when she loudly pointed out the period stain on my butt. Ha, good times.
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A Recipe for Disaster
HumorI can't cook, tried to so many times but I always end up burning something other than the meal, like a dishcloth. But I can cause a disaster, like falling in love with two boys at the same time. Now, what do we call that? 'A Recipe for Disaster'.
