Same sex dating in high school
After a decade, my plan was simple: go to her bar, have dinner and then ask her to come out and meet my friends and I for a drink.
(I think I chose this strategy because I knew it would be easy for her to say no on account of her working that night.)Everything went according to plan: She wasn't our waitress at the bar, but she came over to talk regardless. You need to just ask her to come with us tonight," the other added."I am not doing that. if you don't do it, I'm doing it myself."After some additional liquid courage, I assured my friends I'd carry out my plan so long as they left the bar before I did.
because all I could do was think about what in the hell was happening. She did her best to give my dumb ass all the signs.
I was still wildly nervous, overthinking and overcompensating by making strange jokes or keeping my mouth shut and saying very little. At first, she inched closer and closer to me on the couch, then she put her legs up on my lap, then she flat out cuddled into my shoulder.
Now, in the movie version of this story — which has totally cut out how nervous and pathetic I acted — we end up being together for a long, long time. We did all kinds of couple things together, like going to her sister's holiday party and celebrating my birthday and having sex with the lights on.
Unfortunately for my teenage dreams, I started to realize we weren't necessarily the match I prayed we would be.
She sat down opposite me in the free chair and made small talk with us as I fumbled with my silverware and tried to shout something funny every so often. I couldn't bear to have them around for the polite dismissal I was sure was coming my way."So…" I began, "we're going to get going," I said, watching her smile at me and clean up the glasses in front of her.“I figured that, you know, because you paid your check and the boys left,” she said, still smiling."Yeah, that would make sense, then. and you know, you should come and join us if you can, you know, when you're done here… if you want.""I'll let you know, but I'm not sure when I'm getting out of here," she said. Thirty minutes later, she was looking for a parking spot at the bar.
That night, we had a make-out session I'd been dreaming of for nearly 10 years.If she was just saying it to be nice, I told her, then we couldn't be friends anymore. Of course, that doesn't mean she was home alone on high school summer nights doodling my name on notebooks.But the fact remains that somehow, we were both interested in each other all that time. After that night, what I had fantasized about in high school finally came true: We dated. I could've found out this girl was a deadbeat mom with a slew of STDs or a devout member of some anti-Semitic cult, and I still would've figured out a way to look past it.She stayed local for school, while I went away to Syracuse.After college, I moved back home for a few months, then moved again for a new job.
but that was about it.)Now, it's worth mentioning, though we never actually hung out (in or out of school), our social circles did sort of orbit one another.