Something along the lines of Milquetoast's predicament. In high school, I had a crush on a boy. His Dad came by to take us out for the day. They dropped me off back at home. I was being real cool and waved good by through the back of their station wagon window...which I could see close up, because his dad wasn't watching and had shut it electronically. I was jogging down the street behind the stationwagon, with my finger stuck in the back window. Yeah, yeah...ha ha ha...

A postscript to the above. The next day, they came back. Mike (crush's name) felt so bad, he thought he'd climb the stucco wall to the balcony to serenade me. He almost made it. He got a hand to the top of the wall, lost his grip, bounced off the side wall and landed face first in a pine tree. It's so hard, when a person is in pain, like that, not to be laughing. My mom opened the door, chuckled, and brought him in to fix him up. (I, of course, had to run to the closet and stuff a sweater in my mouth before I could go downstairs and look appropriately concerned.) Ah, youth.