“Rah-rah-Rolla hats off to thee!
Wait one sec, let me double-check my family tree…”
“I’ve never seen Titanic, and I promised myself that I never will…”
“I never drank alcohol until my 21st birthday…”
“Oh, and as a rule of thumb, I don’t date cheerleaders.”
Yes, these pompous phrases are ones that I have actually uttered…on multiple occasions each. Ugh. I can’t say I’m exactly proud that I was actually proud of these achievements.
Except that last one–yeah, yeah, the one about the cheerleaders–that wasn’t me being a pompous ass so much as, well, let me just regale you all about it and it’ll all make more sense…
In high school, I actually did have a literal rule of thumb about not dating cheerleaders. And before you go judging me, thinking I was some stuck-up academic ace who looked down up the perceived diminished intellect of your stereotypical cheerleader, to you I just say, “Slow your roll!” You have to understand that I wasn’t exactly dealing with your stereotypical cheerleaders.
I do have to wonder though, if my situation perhaps had stereotypical small town Kansas written all over it…
You see, it wasn’t so much that I was worried about eventually having average-IQ children if I were to date–and heavens forbid–marry a cheerleader. I was more concerned about having kids with the right number of fingers and toes, if you will.
As it were, during my time roaming the hallowed halls of Rolla High School, an ungodly percentage of the cheerleaders were…uh, how do I put this? Um…they were my cousins.
So, statistically speaking, if I were to blindly go out with a member of the RHS Spirit Squad,1Or whatever the hell we called it back then. I would have been running the very real risk of stumbling into some good old-fashioned inbreeding. Yee-Haw, Milo-Farmers, Yee-Haw!
Not to brag or anything, I would say that I may have been in the running for “Most Kansas High School Experience” award. Like they say, “If you ain’t kissing yer kousin, then you ain’t Kansasing right…”
“Wait, she wasn’t technically off-limits!”
There, I went ahead and pre-emptively expressed mild outrage for you. I wouldn’t say that I was fibbin’ or anything, but…but, well, that whole “cousin” thing comes with a few asterisks. And I hope you’re not mad at me for being rather liberal with how I define my family tree.
Now without further ado, allow me to give you the run-down of ~55% of the RHS Cheerleaders between 1995 and 1999, and then you can cast judgement upon my soul (for the sake of privacy, we’ll only be using first names here):
Mendee: First cousin. Since we shared the same last name, yeah, it would have been pretty obvious that we were Kissin’ Kousins.
Marcee: Younger sister of Mendee; first cousin. Again, the whole problem of having the same last name.
Whitney: Second cousin. I think that’s the right term…our dads were first cousins. Our grandmas were sisters. We have the same great-grandparents–whatever that term is, we have enough common DNA that sophisticated city folk would have indubitably looked down their noses at such a cozy familial relationship.
Erica: First cousin…of Whitney; second cousin. *checks notes* Er, that should actually be Step-First Cousin/First Step-Cousin of Whitney. Her mom married my dad’s cousin. So…common DNA? Not that we knew of! Nonetheless, we might have been “cousin enough” in the eyes of the law, so it was better not to risk it.
Patti: First cousin…to my step-siblings. So we’re back to the whole “Are we “Step-First Cousins or “First Step-Cousins?” debate. In this case though, my dad married into their family instead of the other way around (i.e. I’m the proverbial red-headed stepchild in this scenario). Though I suspect that detail doesn’t really change the state of affairs much…
Lisa P.: First cousin…to Patti. My cousin’s cousin is still my cousin, right? What about my step-cousin’s cousin? Okay, at this point maybe I’m stretching the definition of ‘cousin’ pretty thin. I feel like if only she was my step-cousin’s step-cousin, then I would have been in the clear.
Though, now thinking back, there was actually a brief period my Sophomore year I thought about asking her out. So either I’m completely inconsistent when it comes to identifying who my actual cousins are, or I’m the type of guy who wouldn’t let a little 23andMe get in the way of a good time. Though I don’t know which interpretation would be less offensive…
Kate: Not a cousin. I didn’t date her, but at least I got one good kiss in! Though, the legitimacy of even that is questionable. But again, hey, at least our family trees weren’t intertwined, something that, as you can see, shouldn’t be taken for granted in this here part of the country.
“Ashont’a”:2Not her real name, dummy. Not a cousin; never went to RHS. I did date her, though, and yeah, you could say that I got a couple real good kisses in.3So good, in fact, that they both got her pregnant.
So, about “Ashont’a”…yeah, I guess I kinda forgot that my lovely wife4AKA “The Boss Lady” was a cheerleader when she was in Junior High,5…in a state far away from Kansas a fact that I can indubitably attribute my amnesia to how embarrassed she is by this secret from her past. Welp, either way, I guess this revelation blows a huge hole in my whole “I don’t date cheerleaders” excuse for a total lack of love live in high school.
Oh, and if it wasn’t clear from context, let me be absolutely clear here: I didn’t date her while she was a cheerleader. Good heavens, I don’t want Chris Hansen mysteriously showing up on a barstool in my kitchen with a camera crew or anything…
The point of the story is, Young Grasshopper, if you wait long enough, a smart, funny, beautiful—and kind!— cheerleader might just come your way one day. And if you’re real lucky, she won’t even be your second step-cousin’s step-first cousin…
I guess what I’m trying to say is…Happy Valentine’s Day to my very own and very wonderful former-cheerleader-not-my-cousin-wife. To you a say:
“Give me an ‘I’! Give me an ‘L’! Give me an ‘O’! Give me a ‘V’! Give me an ‘E’! Give me a ‘U’! What does that spell? ‘Rah! Rah! Rah! I LOVE U!'”
Oh, and also Happy V-Day to all you non-cousin-lovers and cousin-lovers6Who am I to judge your love? alike. After all, “Love is love is love,” amiright?7As an unrelated bonus trivia fact, I was really planning on getting in a zinger about “as a rule of let’s-try-not-to-have-kids-with-fused-thumbs”, because, ya know…incest-induced-birth-defects-based humor and all that.
UPDATE/CORRECTION: My sources confirm that there is at least one more name to add to the list…
Lisa O.: No relation to Lisa P; first cousin (to me). Seriously, even dating a cheerleader in another town wasn’t a safe strategy–while I was a Freshman, she was busy being a Junior High cheerleader in the neighboring metropolis of Hugoton. I just couldn’t catch a break.
Our mothers are sisters, so the “Same Last Name” issue never came into play, but obviously the whole “we share roughly the same amount of DNA as half-siblings” thingy is quite the deal-breaker…
Content created on: 11/12/13 February 2022 (Fri/Sat/Sun)
Updated on: 14 February 2022 (Mon)
Footnotes & References:
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