Have you ever been in a situation where denial only made you appear more guilty?
Situation Number 1:
The Scene: Junior high school, sixth grade. Mr. Rob's class.
I was awkward and goofy and new to town, and I liked to wear clothes that clashed. I had a secret crush on a monosyllabic toeheaded guy whose name was not Jeff.
In Mr. Robb's class, Jeff (Jeff who was not the object of my affection) walked by me and whispered,
"Meet me by the drinking fountain."
I didn't really know a thing about Jeff, but you know, in the sixth grade, this was high drama. No way was I going to not meet him at the drinking fountain.
Five minutes went by. Class continued in some chaotic way. Eventually, Jeff (did I mention I hadn't really noticed him before?) mosied on over to the drinking fountain. I followed, feeling very self conscious.
Once I arrived beside him, Jeff addressed me with a great air of authority,
"Listen, I know you like me, but I already have a girlfriend."
And then he left. Before I could say anything. He just left. Back to his seat.
Of course, I could have followed him and insisted I didn't have a crush on him. I could have written him a note and told him what a pompous lummox he was. But wouldn't it all have made it look sort of like I really had a bad crush on him?
I stood there, for ages, in front of that drinking fountain, my mouth hanging open in shock.
I think he later did some modeling and I remember that, in the eighth grade, he kept feeling my legs when we were on the school bus on some field trip.
What a lummox.