The day was chilly, but hardly cold. At least not in the sense that we had to wear actual jackets – but it’s all relative, I guess. Swedish autumn warranted our turtle neck sweaters; mine being the rusty orange one I had bought in Copenhagen, and Maja’s was striped with blues and browns.
As always, we had picked our outfits out carefully; vain as that sounds it was High School, and man… we felt as though we needed to be cute for, well… High School. Images to maintain; boys to impress.
Though neither of us felt particularly “in the running” when it came to boys… So many other girls at our school were simply gorgeous. I was jealous of Maja’s sex appeal… her physique and her lovely, big brown eyes… Apparently, as I found out much much later in life, she was jealous of my looks too.
I feel it’s safe to say we both felt completely inadequate up against the Swedish beauties that populated our school.
This day we felt somewhat attractive; attractive enough to warrant taking pictures… Mine as above was on the stairs along the side of the school, previously having taken a picture of Maja around in a corner by the door – she was wearing jeans and her high heeled black boots, holding her coffee up, one leg up on the wall behind her and a flirtatious smile on her face. I remember it well. I wished I could be half as gorgeous…
(Maja is looking for the picture of herself in question – but in the meantime this can easily illustrate how drop dead gorgeous Maja was/is… this is from around the same time period… and hey, she’s even holding a drink in this one too 😉 …if she finds it, I’ll update this image.)
Prior to taking the pictures, we walked down to the first floor where the cafe was near the cafeteria itself. We got our coffees, along with either weinerbröd or kanelbulle as the picture of myself suggests.
We would have been chattering amongst ourselves; I am about 96.5 % positive I was likely whining and/or pining about Dan. While the likelihood of me being involved somehow with Sven at this point is high (I can tell as the sweater I am wearing was bought during the trip to Denmark in which I met him), the majority of our conversations did center around me wishing things were different with Dan… or exams, or her “bat shit crazy lady” of an Aunt, or other men, or whatever the fuck else… and Dan… Always circling back to Dan. Though she could hardly mask her disdain of him, she did the dutiful BFF commiserating and advice giving.
I’m sure I annoyed the living crap out of her talking about him sometimes.
I look at this picture of myself now, wishing I were half as cute as I used to be… and also wondering what the hell he ever saw in me… Yeah, so maybe I wasn’t as ugly/unfit/unattractive as I felt I was at the time… But I most certainly wasn’t his type. Not dressed like this anyway.
He told me once he liked me at the time because I was attractive and bubbly or something to that effect – I can’t remember his exact words – I hope on some level that was true… Though I have some doubts even now. Like I said… I didn’t appear to be his type.
And, you know, I’d like to say he wasn’t my type either… But fuck me, I’d be lying.