Dare to Make a Fool of Yourself

A story that helped me be more like me

Can you remember a time when you did something silly? Something stupid? Something so embarrassing that you wanted to sink into the floor and disappear forever?

I've had plenty. But most of the time I did the deed consciously and there are many times when people laugh at me. But I still love to make a fool of myself and it’s because of a story my grandma once told me.

A Girl, a Boy, and a Frangipani Tree

It was a cold and gloomy Monday in 1936 when two souls destined to be one took their places under a wise old frangipani tree. The tree had stood for decades serving as a makeshift bus stand that connected the city to its rural cousin. On the left was the school, two kilometers away. To the right was the village, the distance multiplied tenfold.

The tree had watched these two kids standing together, every weekday evening, for three years and counting. They seemed to enjoy each other's company, but they never spoke a word. They were afraid of breaking the great taboo. Girls and boys should only speak once they reach their marital beds. They were the perfect statues molded by society.

But on this gloomy Monday in 1936, something was different from their usual routine.

The sky was heavy, trying hard to hold back tears and the girl’s eyes mirrored the grey. She stood with her head hanging low, staring at her dusty feet. She wore a white skirt with neatly folded pleats — each one carefully creased with a rusty old coal iron. In her hands were books, scribbled notes, and complex equations, written in Greek, that equaled confusion. She held the bundle of texts against her chest trying to hide the cause of her dismay. But a sliver of her shame peeked out between the tattered folds.

It was a piece of paper, printed in black. It was filled with numbers connected by lines, dashes, and dots with space left at the end demanding adequate solutions. She had answered what she could — writing it down with a charcoal pencil. The paper went into the system, was judged, and was sent back — filled with crosses all marked in red. All she had to show for her efforts was a big round red egg.

The boy saw the girl, head hung low and the bundle of books pressed against her chest. He did not know much about the opposite sex and his mind wondered why she looked so depressed.

Maybe it was that time of the month? No stop, get your head out of the gutter.

She must have had a bad day. He felt like he should do something, but what can he do to cheer up a girl he had never talked to? That’s when the tree stepped in and gave him a gift.

A single flower, the purest white, painted in the middle with a dash of yellow, fluttered down in front of the boy. The tree was sending him a message and he heard it as clear as day. He snatched the flower between his fingers and turned to the girl.

If he was a flirt, he would tuck it in her hair. If he was a romantic, he would present the flower, his emotions bare. If he was a poet, the girl and flower he would compare. But he was none of the above, and there was no time to prepare.

He called the girl and put the flower behind his ear. He twisted his body into a feminine pose and asked her if he was the prettiest flower she had ever seen. It was bold, brash, and showcased his utter stupidity when it came to the fairer sex. He was a fool, a jester, and a joker of love. He felt his cheeks burn up red as the girl gave him a judgmental stare.

A moment passed in silence as the girl stared at the boy, shocked beyond belief. First, she cracked a smile, then a giggle escaped and finally the books fell to the ground as her hands moved to hold her stomach. She laughed out loud until her eyes began to glisten. The tears she held back broke free and the sky mirrored her eyes.

Raindrops fell, crying out in sweet relief. She let the rain wash over her skin. Her books were soaked, and her pleats were ruined and her feet were caked in mud. But she did not care. She was happy, enveloped in a moment of bliss.

She looked up at the boy and saw the shy smile that peeked out between blushing cheeks. She said he was the silliest flower she had ever met. He laughed in reply and soon they were both laughing, laughing at everyday problems being washed away in the rain. Just a boy and a girl under the wise old frangipani tree.

The End

How the Story Helped Me

I remember my grandma would tell me this story as cleverly veiled relationship advice. I think it was her own way of saying confidence and being yourself will always help you find love. It was also a way of reminiscing about how she and my granddad first got together. But over the years, it has turned into a story that lets me be more like me.

I am not always the best conversationalist, and I’m sometimes lost thinking of what to do or what to say when I’m in a group of people. In those moments I do something silly, make a stupid joke, or try to be the weird person I am.

Sure, sometimes people laugh at me, but most of the time the people are laughing with me and it makes a stressful situation more relaxed. It has got me through many social gatherings and even helped me make some friends. As an introvert, I think it’s one of the greatest achievements of my life.

Final Thoughts

I feel like the world is getting more and more serious every day. People judge your every word, every action and you have to fit into some predetermined mold. But I think it’s okay to make a fool of yourself and try to be free. It’s what makes us human. So next time you feel like you don’t know what to say, dare to make a fool of yourself and see where it might lead.

Thank you for reading and have a great day!!!