My journal from June 14, 1991:
"Kurt Bestor was the speaker at Youth Conference. Spiritually, it was wonderful. Socially, it was a flop. (For me and Todd.) I let my temper get the better of me this weekend. I realized he doesn't like me. He doesn't even like a lot of the things I like. On the way home from Youth Conference, I was in a rotten mood so Bishop Smith said, "Don't worry, Emilia. All boys are gravy-suckin' slime balls." I don't know what it even means. But it made me feel better."
Two weeks later on July 1, 1991:
"I just apologized to my Mom and everybody else for my behavior over the past 6 months. I've been such a dip! It is definitely the end of an era. I've even packed away all of the banners and countdowns in a big manila envelope. What better way to start the summer?"
See? I was ALL DONE with that Todd Smith.
It had been short and sort of sweet and was a learning experience which left me free to go on and find other boys to adore with my new found knowledge of what NOT to do.
Incidentally, I still refer to dumb boys as gravy suckin' slime balls. And I still don't know what it means. And it still makes me feel better.