“Eat a banana.” This is what everyone, from tutors to friends, kept telling me to do on the morning of the SATs. Apparently there’s something in bananas–potassium, maybe?–that’s supposed to help your brain. This sounded a little dubious to me, but after months of test prep and anticipation, I wasn’t about to take any chances with my SAT score. On the Saturday of the test, I dutifully woke up early, grabbed a banana, and sat down at the computer to check my email. I had one new message, from my boyfriend, which I assumed was a “Good luck on your SATs!” note. Instead:

“I think we should break up. This isn’t going to work.”

Suddenly, I could feel the banana climbing dangerously high back up my esophogus. He wanted to…break up? My beloved, darling, sweet boyfriend of all of sophomore and most of junior year didn’t think “this” was going to work?! AND HE WAS TELLING ME THIS AN HOUR BEFORE I TOOK THE SAT?!?!?!?!?!

My mom came into the room and was startled to see me crying.

“Sweetheart! It’s going to be fine! You’ve studied so much!” She said, alarmed.

“YOUDONTUNDERSTANDNATHANBROKEUPWITHMEANDI’LLNEVERBEHAPPYAGAIN!” I wailed in response. Then, I added:

“I can’t take the SATs right now!”

Except, of course, I had no choice. I’d registered months in advance, paid the fee, and there was no way my parents would let me skip out on the SATs because of boy trouble.

The rest of the morning is a blur. I know I arrived at the test center, stood in line, sat at a random desk at a school I’d never been to, full of kids I didn’t know. As the proctor read out the seemingly endless instructions on how to fill out a Scantron sheet, my mind kept wandering back to that email, wondering what could have possibly gone wrong in my perfect relationship. I raced through the test, my stomach feeling like lead. I just wanted it to be over so I could turn on my cellphone again and see if Nathan had texted me. I couldn’t wait to go home and cry.

Of course, by the time I got my test results back, I really wanted to cry. Let’s just say: the banana didn’t seem to have helped much. The annoying thing was, I knew I could have done better if I hadn’t been so distracted by a kid that frankly, I was already totally over.

So I took the test again, and this time, I ate my banana at the kitchen table (and didn’t check my email), I reviewed flash cards on the way over (instead of reviewing my failed love life), and I even paid attention to the Scantron directions because I sort of think I may have messed that up last time.

And my results? Were good. In fact, they were exactly what I had been hoping for. And that was the last time I took the SATs–and the last time I let boy trouble get in the way of my own success.

Have you ever gotten a bad grade or a bad score because of boy drama? How did you do on the SATs? Tell me all about it in the comments!

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