Aw, f***, I hoped that you'd forgotten. I wish I could. OK, here goes.
Freshman year of college (1990), I worked at a drugstore. One of my coworkers, whom I'll call Rita (for "irritating"), was a senior in high school and had a disturbingly public crush on me--she bragged about it to our coworkers and her friends, and even paraded her family through the store to meet me. She was the WORLD'S BIGGEST NKOTB FAN, bar none--it's all she listened to or talked about. She was more of an annoyance than anything else, so I just shrugged her off most of the time. One night, though, she invited me to hang out with her at her high school's football game. I'd already rebuffed about a dozen of similar requests, so I figured that just one couldn't hurt, right? Wrong. Fast forward to the end of the football game. It just so happened that the rest of her family was out of town that night, so she invited me to spend the night at her place. So far, so bad. But nothing could have prepared me for the shock of seeing her bedroom--literally every square inch of walls, ceilings, floor, and furniture was covered with pics of the New Kids on the Block--thousands of photos. Let's fast forward some more, shall we? There is NOTHING more horrifying than waking up and being surrounded by thousands of NKOTB photos in a confined space. I got out of there as soon as I could, and pretty much had nothing to do with her after that.
And that's the story. There's an epilogue, but I'll save for another time.