NOTE: These Anonymous Corner stories are anonymous tales of life lessons and awkward moments given to me to publish.
As a 37-year-old heterosexual man, I would say I’m very comfortable with who I am. Which is why I have no problem letting the world know it: I’m obsessed with Gwen Stefani. It started out as a fan of No Doubt in the 90’s. She was my first crush, my first concert and also my first cd. I kept a No Doubt poster on my wall well past the normal age for a functioning adult to keep posters all over their wall. I have no shame when I say I even bought all of her solo albums.
Gwen Stefani also ruined a promising date I went on.
The year was 2005 and I was a promising grad student studying the exciting field of microbiology. In my lab, I was partnered up with this beautiful woman who we’ll just call Alice. Her name is obviously not Alice as no one has been purposely named Alice for 50 years. I fancied myself as decent when it came to speaking to women but Alice was different. After somehow working up the nerve to ask her to accompany me to a nice restaurant, I felt on top of the world.
I made a few mistakes. First, I decided to wear the cologne, Polo Green. To give you an idea of what it smelled like, realize this: Polo Green has been in circulation since about 1978 and still smells like it. As if smelling like gasoline wasn’t enough, when Alice stepped into my car and pressed play on the CD player, “Rich Girl” was blaring across the speaker. Keep in mind; this was 2005 so not every car on the lot was equipped with a built-in CD player. Which means I had one personally installed. Which also meant that I spent the previous day blasting Gwen Stefani.
Alice laughed it off as I explained that I was a fan. At the restaurant, we had a great time sharing what we had in common and laughing about everything from carrots to George Bush. When it came time for us to leave, she asked to see my apartment, which was on the way. Not thinking anything about how my place looked, I quickly agreed and we drove back to my place.
As we entered my apartment, I mentally patted myself on the back when the place wasn’t as bad as I had expected. Everything seemed okay until Alice decided to waltz towards my room. That’s when I remembered the life sized Gwen Stefani poster on my wall. Then I remembered the No Doubt picture collage I made when I was 17 hanging above my bed. My still-playing DVD of Rock Steady Live with Live in the Tragic Kingdom sitting on top of the television. I bet you didn’t even realize No Doubt released even one concert DVD. My room was a shrine to No Doubt.
I tried to long jump over the couch to stop Alice from getting to my room and realized I was in no shape or form a long jumper when I tripped and hit my head on a bar stool. Alice immediately came over and showcased nurse skills that I didn’t know she had. Crisis averted right? Wrong. Alice went looking for Tylenol in my room and found everything. The weird part was she never said a word about it and neither did I. I took her home during the most silent car ride of all time and never heard from her again, even in the same class. You might think I’d feel like an idiot. Nope. If she’s too good for Gwen Stefani, then she’s not for me. – Anonymous