Quirk

A fictional short-short story

The kids at my high school thought I was weird. I prefer “quirky.” I have a tic, a raspy voice, and a habit of when I run out of things to add, saying “and stuff.” Like “I like basketball, watching TV, and stuff.”

The kids mainly ignored me and a few made fun of me. Tracy’s teasing particularly hurt because she has a cleft palate — I would have thought she’d feel empathy. But she teased me by imitating my tics, raspy voice, even saying, “and stuff.”

Since high school, I hadn’t seen Tracy until our 25th high school reunion. I don’t think she recognized me and I only recognized her because of her cleft palate — We both had aged. And like most people at reunions, we put the best face on our lives, even though truth is, we had been strugglers: to afford college, get a decent job afterward, and our social life was, well, limited. Little by little, all that came out and I noticed that she wasn’t making fun of me anymore, even though I still had the tic, raspy voice, and said “and stuff.”

We decided to date, having bonded in both our mediocrity and borderline “weirdness.” After a while, I didn’t care about her cleft palate. Indeed, there was something nurturing about kissing her.

But that wasn’t enough to sustain the relationship. After the infatuation glow had faded, I saw her more serious flaws and she saw mine. She was pretty absorbed with her appearance — I guess she tries to compensate for her cleft palate. And I’m not the funster she wished I’d be. So, without saying we were breaking up, we drifted apart.

I try to embrace my quirks — I even gave myself the nickname, “Quirk” but not so deep down, I’m kind of angry that people judge me on trivia. On my good days, I think they’re the weird ones.

I read this aloud on YouTube.

Marty Nemko is a career and personal coach, and author of 34 books including Relationship Stories. You can reach Marty at mnemko@gmail.com