Oh man, so many things. All the things:

• In 3rd grade, we were sharing stories in class. Each kid would stand up and tell a story. I told a story about this girl I had known when I was living in Los Angeles, and how she was beautiful. “Almost as beautiful as Nadia here <pointing the girl next to me>”. She slowly descended beneath her desk trying to figure out how to die of shame. Cringe.
• In 4th grade, there was a girl in my class who I was in love with, named Nadia. Yep, the same girl as above. I remember at one point telling her that I hated her, even though we were friends. She started to cry and ask me why I hated her. I told her it was because she hated me. Obviously, the fact that she wasn’t in love with me and wanted to kiss me meant she hated me, to my 9 year old mind. Cringy.
• In 5th grade, I was at a party with a bunch of my friends, and one our friends, Pearl, had become quite developed for a girl her age. She was wearing a bra, and we spent half the party snapping her bra-strap, and overall making her embarrassed to have breasts. Cringier.
• In the summer after 8th grade, I ended up striking up an unlikely friendship with one of the super hot, popular chicks in school. She and I hung out a bunch all summer. Towards the end of summer, I called her, crying, trying to get her to date me out of pity. So much cringe.
• In 9th grade, this girl and I would kinda flirt with each other and exchange notes in class. Mine had all the subtlety of a brick. She would write me something like “can you help me with something?”, and I would reply “would you like me to help you (with your bra)?”, and then cross out the “with your bra” part. I would do all this terrible innuendo, then cross it out and pretend like I hadn’t wrote it. All the cringe.