Sing just for me

My friend Kathy tells a backstage Duran Duran story that kicks my Simon LeBon pre-teen crush story’s ass, but this isn’t Kathy’s blog, so I’m telling my story instead.

I bought Matthew a karaoke machine as a housewarming gift when we moved to Florida, and since then we’ve been squirreling disks whenever we can, giddy with each new find. One nugget was a song track labeled “Rio” by Duran Duran, but it turned out to be “Hungry like the Wolf.” I didn’t mind; I think I’d sing anything Duran Duran at home karaoke. But singing “smell like I sound” made me remember middle school.

Insert Wayne’s World flashback wavy lines.

Just on the cusp of middle school, my parents moved us to a new neighborhood. It was never like the old place, Reidlonn, instead it was more impersonal and making new friendships was difficult. There were a few kids about my age living on the street behind us, and I tried my best to make friends with them. The problem was that one girl was significantly wealthier than me and had total disdain for me, and another girl was significantly poorer than me and she had total disgust for me. So you see the problem. No one in the middle to be friends with Christine.

I hung out with the rich girl, Raechel, every once in a while. She had an awesome sticker collection, whereas mine anemically contained a few graphic scratch-n-sniff and a few pictures of random objects. But nothing cool, none of the right stickers. Raechel had the most impressive sticker collection of anyone I knew, however. I don’t know where she attended middle school that was so magical, but she talked about her and her friends doing sticker swaps and miraculous sticker book meets. At my school, we kind of took our sticker books to school with us, but no one had anything grade A primo to really worry about swapping.

One sunny afternoon in the summer, Raechel must have been bored because she actually called me over to play. As a bonus, she told me, “I have new stickers.” When I got to her bedroom, she pulled out a 2” by 3” wax sheet of glitter heart stickers that nearly melted my soul with envy. And then Raechel blew my mind. “This is the newest sticker I just traded for,” and she showed me a tiny 1” rendering of Duran Duran—in sticker form. I thought I’d die. Having the Duran Duran sticker would catapult my pedestrian sticker book to stratospheric proportions.

“I’d love it if you could share some of your stickers with me,” I said, trying to figure out how to ingratiate myself to Raechel.

“Mmm, maybe you could have a couple of the glitter hearts.”

I really craved to have Simon LeBon so I could practice kissing his tiny 2 mm visage. “I really like that other one,” I told her, pointing at sticker Duran Duran.

“Welll, I just got it and all…”

Somehow, I persuaded Raechel to blindfold me, and she would do a switcheroo, and then I would point and pick a sticker at random. Like sticker roulette. So, blindfold, swish, swish swish, “Now pick.”

At first I worried that I’d choose wrong and get stuck with glitter hearts instead of my heart’s desire. But then I realized that my disproportionately large nose was causing a huge gap in the blindfold and I could see straight out by just tilting my head back a little. But, was this a sin? If I cheated at sticker roulette, did I have to go to confession? Lying is clearly forbidden by the Catholic church, but, come on, Simon LeBon! Doesn’t Simon LeBon totally trump the Catholic church?

He does. He does indeed.

I tilted back my head, and I could see Raechel’s hands as she moved around the stickers in front of me. On the right, glitter hearts. On the left, clearly a square of Duran Duran. “Okay, now choose,” Raechel said to me, confident her scheme would keep her sticker collection intact.

I extended my left index finger, “That one.”

She gasped. I took off my blindfold and faked surprise like nobody’s business. “Oh my goodness!” I squealed, and picked up the much coveted Duran Duran sticker.

“Um, let’s try again at the sticker game, OK?” Raechel awkwardly asked me. Confident in my ability to cheat her all day if necessary, I was ready for any challenge. Again, sticker roulette, swish, swish, swish on her carpet. “Now choose.” I pointed with my right index finger this time, directly at my future husband’s face, Simon LeBon.

I took off my blindfold: “Oh! I got it again!” I picked up the sticker.

“No, let’s try again,” Raechel told me. “I want to make sure your blindfold is on right.” No problem. She held up two fingers to test if I could see, I said “three?” Lie. She held up four fingers to see if I could tell, and I said, “two?” Lie. She was finally satisfied. And for a third time she played the eggshell game, teasing my obvious future with my boyfriend Simon LeBon.

This time, I acted even harder, and I started to point to the left like I wasn’t sure, and I said, “Ummm,” a lot as my finger wavered. But, at last, my finger settled on the Duran Duran sticker. “This one,” I declared. I took off my blindfold, and Raechel finally conceded defeat.

Knowing when to cut and run, I got out with my precious sticker while I could, so I kept up the lying (sorry God!) and told Raechel I had to be home or my mom would be mad. I bailed so fast I think I left her crying on the white carpet of her perfect princess bedroom, and I didn’t care. She had decorative grass fronds in a vase in the corner of her room; she could get another Duran Duran sticker any time she wanted, right?

I never really saw Raechel again after that, but I didn’t care; I got what I wanted out of the relationship—exclusive access to my husband, Simon LeBon.