Pathetic Geek Stories

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The Undoing: Fashion in PGS

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I was a portly 6th grade kid and my class decided to go on a field trip to Medieval Times. We got there and the show began, during which a meal of cornish game hen was served. I, being plump and a fan of game hen, began to feverishly devour the small bird. Then suddenly in mid-gourge, my teacher, an effeminate man who stood about 5', says to the class, "Look at Andy go, if anyone doesn't want their food, I'm sure Andy will eat it!" The entire class turned their attention to me, a fat,insecure 6th grader who was at the time pulling the meat off a tiny poultry carcass with my teeth. Their laughter resounded well over the clash of the swordfighting. Easily one of my most embarassing moments.

—Andy D.

there was this guy who used to sit behind me in 10th grade English class.He was the scariest guy in school nobody ever bothered him. He used to stick stuff in the back of my then long curly hair, tap on my shoulder for answers for test questions,& call me what he thought was funny names. hey wad,whats wrong pussy,ace & champ. I finally got fed up one day & turned around & said my name is Dave fucker.I thought he was gonna kill me but he just smiled. The rest of the year him & everyone else called me Dave Fucker.hey it's Dave Fucker, here come's Dave Fucker
—David P.

When I was in sixth grade, our junior high school had a "Spirit Week," where everyone dressed to a different theme each day of the week. One of the days was "Button Day," and it was announced that the person who wore the most buttons to school would win a pizza party for their class. I thought my classmates would think it was really cool if I won the contest for them.
I went home and asked my mom for some buttons to wear. She was a feminist, so all she had were buttons with slogans for women's rights ("God is short for Goddess," "Pro-choice/Pro-child," etc.). My mom convinced me that nobody would pay attention to what the buttons said, and even if they did, they'd probably think it was cool I was expressing myself.
The next day at school, I showed up wearing all of my Mom's buttons.  Everybody made fun of me and called me a "total gay-wad." A group of boys even took off their own sports-themed buttons and poked me with the needles. I went into the bathroom and cried.
Later, I found out that boys who poked me ended up winning the contest by pooling all of their buttons together.  I complained to the teacher that they'd cheated, but she told me that it was only a contest and that I shouldn't make such a big deal about it. 
—Nick S.

I was your average 7th grade geeky boy: chubby, all A's, and uncoordinated.


Gym was especially hard for me because none of my other nerd friends had gym class with me that year, so I was inevitably last picked for everything and first to be picked on.


One day, after leaving the locker rooma popular guy, John, came up from behind me, said "What's up Corey?" and patted me on the head. I was thrilled that this cool kid made a friendly gesture toward me! That was, until I realized that he had mashed a wad of chewing gum into my hair. I tried to play it off as no big deal and started to walk back to class but the shame was too much and I broke into tears and ran toward the principal's office to tell on my tormentor. But when I arrived at the office who should be standing there but John, who it turns out was an office aid! I told the assistant principal what happened and then he got John's side of the story, who said that I was lying to get him in trouble. And wouldn't you know it the assistant principal believed John!


They made me sit in the office for the rest of the day and threatened to call my parents while they let him off scot-free.


If I only knew his last name I would track him down and kick his ass today.


I read a lot of science fiction and fantasy and fantasy in junior high school, probably because I was afraid to talk to girls. But I always thought that maybe they would notice how quickly I went through all these books, and be impressed by my skills as a reader.


One day as I sat at my desk while waiting for my history class to start, I held the book I was reading uncomfortably high, hoping someone would notice the especially colorful cover. Unfortunately, someone did.


The cutest girl in the class said with scorn: "Tarzan? What a stupid book."


It was the one where Tarzan met the dinosaurs.


I didn't know what to say, so I just kept reading.


The really pathetic part is that tonight, more than 25 years later, I suddenly realized that maybe she was flirting with me.


One day I was in the bathroom that was shared between the sixth and seventh grades, and the only other people in there were two seventh grade girls who were MUCH bigger than I was. I was washing my hands and trying to be invisible, when one starts talking to the other in a loud voice, asking if she thought that sixth graders were dumb for liking New Kids on the Block so much. The other girl agrees in an equally loud voice, and they are exchanging knowing glances. I understood what they were doing, but I didn't like New Kids on the Block either. Instead of ignoring them, though, I started thinking of what I could say to show them that I was as cool as them. I couldn't think of anything fast enough, so I had this panicked look on my face, and was kind of sputtering. Then of course I looked totally dejected and they walked out of the bathroom laughing at me.


In Junior High, I was a fat kid. All the popular girls thought it was fun to pretend they wanted to be my girlfriend and make fun of me when I asked them to go steady. In High School, I joined the football team, lost a lot of weight, and grew to over 6 feet tall. A lot of girls expressed interest in being asked out, but I usually thought they wanted to embarass me like in Jr High. As a consequence, I had very few girlfriends, and the girlfriends I had were usually geeks themselves.


In 7th grade I was really insecure from constantly being picked on. One day I got a letter from my friend Michele, who I had a crush on. The letter told me that she "liked me" and thought I was really handsome. I immediately assumed the letter was written in mocking sarcasm, stormed over to her desk in front of a class of 20 kids, tore the letter up and yelled at her through my tears for making fun of me. She just sat there dumbfounded.


To this day I don't know if she wrote the letter or not, or if she did write it if it was in earnest. But if it was in earnest, I'm sure I changed her feelings for me THAT day!


When I was in 4th grade I was with my two friends during recess and we were walking past all of these cool kids that we hated who were playing kickball. The ball rolled right up to us. I grabbed it and to both make my friends laugh and strike a blow for geeks everywhere I though to kick the ball in the opposite direction. Take that!! But I was not so coordinated and I fell flat on my ass as the ball went almost straight up in the air. My friends fell on the ground laughing, as did all the cool kids. I was alone in the universe. They asked me what happened and I said that I slipped. They asked on what and I search the ground looking for something to blame it on only to find a small wet spot where some cool kid had spit. I pointed to the spot, tears in my eyes knowing that they wouldn't buy it. They seemed to get much cooler after that incident and we were no longer friends, but I would see them making fun of me on occasion.

—P.B. (guy)

I spent the first 8 years of my education in a small parochial school, but in ninth grade moved on to a huge public high school. I went from a class of 30 kids to almost 600! I was shy and did not have much experience socializing, and so I often felt out of my depth. Up until that point in my life, my only physical contact with girls was during our biannual roller skating parites – during “the Grand March” we were allowed to hold hands and awkwardly skate in big figure eight to the tune of “Pomp and Circumstance” (How surreal is that, by the way? To this day I still feel a vague sexual excitement at graduation ceremonies…).


One of my new classes was choir, and of the 100 students I didn’t know a soul. They had a tradition in this class: on your birthday everyone would sing “Happy Birthday to You” and then members of the opposite sex would line up and give you a hug. My birthday was early in the school year, and since I didn’t know anyone yet I figured that no one would notice. Little did I know that the teacher consulted the school records, and so on my birthday I suddenly found myself the center of everyone’s attention. Before I knew what was happening everyone was singing to me and I had a bunch of these girls (some of whom were gorgeous!) all waiting to give me a hug!


I was completely befuddled – glands were pumping strange chemicals into my bloodstream, my heart was racing and every neuron in my head was firing! It wasn’t until the fourth or fifth hug that, to my horror, I realized what I was saying in a shy, delirious voice during each embrace: “Happy Birthday!” I tried to stop, but my brain was so overloaded that I couldn’t disengage my mouth from autopilot or come up with a less moronic reply. Each girl gave me a hug, and I in turn wished them a happy birthday.


After a decade of shame I finally confessed this story to a few of my female friends. Now whenever we greet each other with a hug we are sure to tell each other, “Happy Birthday!”

—Kevin T.

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