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Now back to your regularly scheduled programming:
When I’ve told this story in the past, I’ve said that I went after Caylin to spite Ashley, because she was being so loud so early in the morning. This would, of course, be an atrocious thing to do to both Ashley and Caylin. It would also be a tremendously silly reason for me to pursue someone, especially after having just put so much pressure on my list of criteria (which Caylin proved to pass).
I believed this self-spun narrative for a long time, I thought that fourteen-year-old me had enough anger to do this to someone. In reality, I felt guiltier about the fact that I’d done something kind of shitty to Ashley without giving it a second thought. This version of the story puts me in more control (and I see the irony), it discounts the legitimacy of any feelings I might have had about the situation and it explains easily why everything worked out the way it did.
The truth is, while I will credit Ashley with putting Caylin on my radar, I do not think I was actually trying to play 4D-Chess with her. I apologize to Ashley, if she’s reading this. I’m sorry I stole your man in 9th grade. That was messed up. I hope you’re doing okay now.
…
I spent the whole weekend thinking about Caylin.
On Monday, he was gone, like he said he would be.
Ashley came onto the bus, announcing to her friend, for the whole bus to hear, that she really liked her Best Friend. She was hoping he would ask her out soon.
I was worried because Ashley was gorgeous. She had nice skin and pretty eyes and dark shiny hair. I figured that if she dropped enough hints to Caylin before I had a chance to get to him, I wouldn’t stand a chance.
I knew I wanted to get his attention. I was going to have to work fast.
On Tuesday, October 14th, Ashley and Caylin got on the bus together and sat side by side. Ashley was bubbling over Caylin as usual, but on that morning it was particularly difficult for me to focus on Wesley’s reviews of the previous night’s episodes. My mind was inundated with imaginary paper hearts and love notes that Ashley was giving to him. I was planning out my coming intervention.
When afternoon came, I placed myself near enough to them as we all waited for the bus, so I was able to slip right between them when we all formed a line. Caylin was just ahead of me in line, so I watched him pick his seat. With Ashley just behind me, I asked him if I could sit next to him.
He said “Sure,” with a big smile.
I gave him one to match, and I slid into the spot next to him.
Ashley gave me a sour look as she walked past, but I didn’t care. I was sitting next to him again!
I spent that bus ride checking off boxes in my mind (dark hair, pretty eyes, taller than 5’8”, good grades, has read at least two books in the last year, not preppy) and gripping the zipper pencil bag in my lap. The zipper pencil bag contained the small scrap of torn loose-leaf on which I’d written, in both my best pen and penmanship, my phone number. He spent most of the bus ride showing me his funniest panos.
“I took this one over the weekend,” he was showing me a portrait of his father, neck outstretched like a giraffe and standing in front of the Washington Monument.
I said That’s so cool or That’s so funny or Oh my God! to all the pictures he showed me, and when he ran out of panos he started showing me SpongeBob memes. Between each picture, I got in my questions, and I felt confident with moving forward.
As we made the turn toward my neighborhood, I made my move.
“I really like talking to you,” I said.
“I really like talking to you too!”
beat.
“I was hoping we could keep talking after I get off the bus.”
I was shaking as I unzipped the zipper bag. Somehow the paper had gotten lost under the pencils and I had to dig to get it out. The paper was soft.
“D-d-d-o you want my number?”
But he was already handing me his iPhone.
He looked at the paper in my hand. “What is that?”
“My phone number…”
He laughed. I was mortified.
“Just put it in the phone!”
I didn’t feel like that was very fun or whimsical, just putting the number into the phone myself-— but then again, fun and whimsical weren’t on the list.
We pulled up to my stop as I entered the last few digits. I threw the phone back at him.
“This is my stop,” I said.
“Cool,” he said.
…
He texted me that afternoon. He was all lowercase and smiley-face emoticons.
I immediately updated my group-chat with Solaria and Jannette. They praised me for my rizzing skills while simultaneously making fun of me for trying to give him my number on a scrap of paper. Solaria revealed that she had the same lunch period as him and promised to gather intel.
Caylin and I texted for a solid five hours before we both went to bed, but the next morning he still sat next to Ashley.
Solaria found me in the afternoon to tell me what she’d found out.
“He told me he’s a top.”
“What?”
She elaborated, “I asked him if he was a top or a bottom, and he said ‘my anus is a sanctuary, so I must be a top.’”
I still had no idea what she was talking about. “Did you ask him if he likes me?”
“What is this? Fourth-grade?” She rolled her eyes. “Show me your texts,” She held out her phone like a mother.
I gave her the phone. She started scrolling, she didn’t stop to read any.
When she finally got all the way to the top, she handed the phone back and said “he likes you.”
“That doesn’t really mean anything,” I argued, “that’s how our messages look every day after school.”
“Yeah, I know— I just wouldn’t worry about it too much, if I were you.” She nodded and her earrings jingled. “How could he not like you? You’re Didi!”
Caylin and I sat together for the rest of the afternoons that week. We continued to stumble through cramped, sweaty conversations on the bus, followed by expansive conversations that went on until after midnight over text. In one of those long conversations, I asked if he liked anyone.
“i might :)” he said.
“do you like ashley?”
beat.
“not ashley…”
On Monday the 20th, he didn’t sit next to Ashley in the morning, he sat in the seat in front of Wesley and me. He spent the bus ride to school turned around listening to the two of us argue over which of the two of us was more Phoebe.
Attempting to come to my aid, Caylin said “You’re not really Phoebe, you’re more like Rachel!”
I knew he was trying to be sweet, because obviously Rachel is meant to be the hot one. It did reveal to me that he hadn’t put any critical thought into which friend was the most cool and interesting, but I let it slide.
He spent the rest of the mornings that week turned around and listening to Wesley and my bickering. Over text, we discussed the logistics of our first ever hug, we were planning to do it Thursday morning, before we parted ways. When Thursday came, we both sat in silent anxiety about the awaited embrace. Both too nervy to commit, our first hug ended up being more of a lean-over-side-embrace while we were both still in motion. My heart was as good as shattered, I explicitly did not want a side hug— I could get a side hug anywhere.
The confidence I’d gained from him admitting he did not like Ashley was dissipating, but I still had some hope to hold on to.
On Friday the 25th, Solaria showed up to school with new hair. She’d chopped off her long-dirty blonde mermaid waves, and in their place was a blunt-bob died the color of a fresh cherry. The difference was stark, though despite the initial shock of the look, it didn’t take long for the hair to appear natural on Solaria. The same look might have looked corny on someone else, but on her, the deep red-dye complimented her olive eyes and pale complexion.
That night, the two of us, alongside Jannette and Annapolis were all going to Fright Night at Boone Hall Plantation. I’d asked Caylin on the bus if he liked haunted houses (gauging whether or not I could risk inviting him), though he said they weren’t really his thing.
“I scare fairly easily,” he explained “it’s best for me to stay away from all that spooky stuff.”
I loved all that spooky stuff, and I wondered if he was telling the truth or just trying to let me down easily. It was confusing. It seemed like he liked me, and according to my list we were compatible— especially after he revealed that his family was made up of blue voters and he disclosed his hatred for Pop Country music— though for how much we both seemed to dislike the same things, our likes seemed to have very little overlap. I wondered if this was just a natural part of dating.
Thinking back to Blaize Huckabee, I remembered that he and I had a lot of shared interests. We liked the same TV shows and the same games, and as he moved out of his Dubstep phase, we even started to like the same music. Things didn’t work out with Blaize, so I knew common interests couldn’t be everything… but I thought they had to count for something…
Regardless, the four of us had a wonderful time on our double-friend-date. Through all the haunted houses, I let Annapolis grip my arm and scream in my ears. I stood stone-faced, like a tough guy, proving to all the haunted house actors that I did not startle for anyone other than my father.
Tough guy or not, I was still preoccupied the whole time, sending pictures and update texts every few minutes to Caylin, and squealing his responses to my distracted girlfriends.
The week leading up to Halloween, Caylin and Wesley tested out their new system where Wesley and I shared the first half of the bus ride to talk about our shows, only to have Caylin replace Wesley at his stop, so that the two of us could sit together for the second half. By that Tuesday, we’d hugged for real at least three times, and our hands inched closer to touching with eahc bus ride we shared. By Wednesday, We had our first plans to hang out outside off of the bus. He was going to spend Halloween (that Friday) with my friends and me.
Some people won’t agree with me on this, but I think the smartest thing a girl can do when initially dating someone (especially a man, but really anyone) is bringing that person around the homies. You should do this early, and I mean as early as possible. My current boyfriend met at least five of my close friends hours after meeting me for the first time. This was by design.
The thing about people (men), is they have a tendency to be fake as fuck. I’ve met plenty of people who present me with the sweetest, most tender version of themself, only to switch up the vibe entirely when put in a larger group. You never really know who a person is until you’ve seen them around both your friends and theirs.
Furthermore, your friends will see things you don’t. Granted, you may not be receptive to these observations when you’re in your honeymoon phase, but those observations will prove valuable later on.
Finally, I really have no interest in dating you, if you have nothing to offer my friend group. That doesn’t mean I need you to fully integrate yourself into my social circle, but it does mean I need you to have the capacity to participate in gossip, to over intellectualize reality TV, and, in the case of Halloween 2014, the ability to be drift (no questions asked).
I had plans for that Halloween to be the best Halloween of all time.
The last time Halloween had landed on a Friday, I was in third grade and not old enough to appreciate it for its potential. In 9th grade, the opportunity to run-amuck in my neighborhood after dark on a Friday was not entirely novel, but the holiday promised to make the experience fresh.
I’d been developing the idea for Annapolis and my matching costumes. They were clever, they were topical, they were intellectual. I was dressing up as Hannah Montanna and she as Hannah’s assistant and best friend, Lola Luftnagel. Our costumes were complete with wigs and sequins, but we were not (or at least I was not) telling people that we were Hannah and Lola.
If the question was asked, I instructed Annapolis to tell people that we were dressed as zombies (of course, in reference to Miley Cyrus’s SNL monologue from the October prior, in which she proclaimed “I don’t apologize for my VMAs performance. If I owe anybody an apology, it’s the people who make the bottom half of shirts. There are a few subjects I’m not going to get into tonight: I’m not going to do Hannah Montana, but I can give you an update. She was murdered,”). The costume was made even better by the fact that Wesley was incidentally planning to dress as new-Miley (or the Miley that was new for the time), meaning that if we crossed paths, I would be at the center of two matching Halloween costumes.
Solaria rode the bus home with me that day after school, so I made Caylin sit with Wesley. The bus was extra crowded from all the people bringing friends home with them. I noticed Freddie had his girlfriend, Emma, with him.
At home, I showed Solaria all my favorite after-school-home-alone activities: drinking juice out of the nice glasses, eating cold pasta out of the fridge, shouting in the corners of the house with the best acoustics, and waiting for the elementary school bus to drop off my sister. Waiting for the bus, Solaria was texting away.
“Who are you texting?”
“Freddie,” she answered.
I didn’t even know the two of them liked each other, but she revealed to me that he was actually another one of her exes from middle school. According to her, they were just re-kindling their friendship.
“He’s not happy,” she told me. Freddie’s parents made Emma go home, though it was unclear why.
“Can he hang out with us tonight?”
I said sure, even though I knew the last minute addition would completely alter the group dynamics that I’d been mentally preparing for all week. I didn’t want to think too much about what Annapolis would think either.
We watched my sister until Melissa got home, then we walked down to the neighborhood park to meet Freddie. On the way, we walked slowly and stopped frequently to admire the still-lively flowers decorating each lawn.
“I think I might be bisexual,” I blurted out. I could have been talking to Solaria, or to the flower in front of my face. I don’t know what compelled me to say it. The only other person I’d ever tried to come out to was Callie the summer before 8th grade, and it was safe to say that she didn’t really get the message back then. Either way, telling a close friend from Colorado was different than telling someone I’d known for only ten weeks in South Carolina, as far as safety was concerned. For some reason, Solaria just felt right to tell.
She didn’t freak out or scream or shrink away. She just said “You’re not bi.”
“I’m not?” I almost felt relieved to hear it, but also indignant at being told who or what I was.
“No, you’re not. If you were bi, I would already be dating you.”
Relief melted away and confusion was all I had left. I couldn’t deny the facts, therefor it was settled: I could not be bi.
Freddie was already at the park (sans Emma) when Solaria and I got there. He and Solaria hugged when they saw each other, they didn’t even have to think about it (Solaria was the kind of girl who was capable of hugging boys and everyone else with an air of nonchallance and normalcy).
“I don’t think we’ve met, officially,” Freddie said as he parted from Solaria’s grip. “I’m Freddie Kruber”
I extended my hand to shake, when we grasped hands I said “That’s funny.”
He’d been smiling, but his face dropped back to his usual scowl, “What’s funny about it?”
I held his gaze and matched his expression. I didn’t need to say it, but one of us had to break. It was obviously me. “Nothing.”
“Right,” he said. He squeezed my hand a little too hard before pulling away.
I didn’t wince, but I wanted too. This guy seems like a douche, I thought.
He told us, but mostly Solaria, about his situation:
“Originally, I was supposed to go over to Emma’s. I was going to spend the night and we were going to watch Saw, When I asked my parents they said ‘no,’ but when I asked them ‘why,’ they said that it ‘didn’t matter why.’ I figured, if it didn’t matter than it wouldn’t matter if I brought Emma over instead. Plus, I was thinking that if Emma was already with me, they would have to let her stay. That would be the mature thing to do! But, obviously my parents don’t know anything about that, because when my mom saw Emma she started to go all crazy-bitch at me in front of her. She was threatening to ground me— which just isn’t happening— all while she was dragging Emma out the door to the car. Isn’t that such bullshit???”
Solaria and I nodded as if to say ‘yes, such bullshit!’
“I mean, they know we’ve had sex—”
Just like with the hand squeeze, I did everything in my power not to react. People our age have sex, I told myself, it’s normal.
“—so I don’t see the big deal. It’s not like we can re-virgin ourselves.”
Freddie was reading my wide eyes and sealed lips. He challenged me further. “We’ve already had sex three times this year. Every time you saw Emma on the afternoon bus, it was so we could have sex.”
All I could say was “Rad.”
“It would have been more rad if it was four times— like it was supposed to be tonight,” he let his head flop like a sad puppy.
Solaria put her arms around his shoulders and consoled him “They’ll come around.”
I wondered if she actually believed that or if she was just saying what she though she was supposed to, like me. If she was pretending, she was doing a helluva job. She made the conversation seem totally rational. My still-yet-to-come first kiss was starting to feel a lot less important, even down-right baby-ish.
We went back to my house, as three instead of two, to get ready. My whole family, including Kendra, was home by then. Annapolis arrived shortly after. Being the only two in the group in true costumes, Annapolis and I needed about an hour to get ready. My room quickly became a dressing room; a mess of loose hair, rhinestones, and glittery eyeshadow pallets littered the floor. Solaria managed to convince Freddie to dawn a fuzzy animal hat and eye-liner cat-whiskers so that the two of them could be Dan and Phil (though Annapolis said he was scary enough to not need a costume).
Caylin showed up at 7 pm, as the sun was just starting to set. When I heard his knock at the door, I sprinted down the steps and tripped over my own feet.
“I got it, I got it, I got it!” I yelped, intercepting Melissa on her way to the door. I turned to her, out of breath, “It’s my friend from the bus!”
“Okay,” Melissa said, throwing her hands up and excusing herself back to the living room.
I was beaming as I threw open the door, but my face sank when I saw Caylins outfit. The same outfit he’s worn to school that day, plus a pea-coat.
“Do you like my new coat?” It wasn’t even a part of his costume.
“Yeah…” I answered, still looking him up and down, trying to find some element of costume that I was missing. “What are you?”
He straightened his jacket out, “I am a nudist…protesting.”
Haha…very clever. But not more clever than my costume, which I was starting to feel a little awkward in.
“Are you…Hannah Montana?” he asked.
“No…I’m a zombie…Hannah got murdered…”
We both forced a fake laugh, then I pulled him inside and up the steps, directly to my room.
“Who’s that lady hanging out with your dad?” Freddie asked.
I wanted to throw up when I remembered my Dad and Kendra were hanging out in the office across the hall with the door open. I didn’t have time to make up a lie, I looked at Annapolis and she just shrugged.
“That’s his girlfriend,” I answered.
“Isn’t that your step-mom downstairs?”
“Yeah,” I said, “it’s like that here…” I looked at Caylin, “Welcome to the show.”
When the sun was down and the costumes were all on and melissa had sufficient pictures of the whole group, we hit the streets.
“Which houses do you want to go to first?” Annapolis asked as she scoped the neighborhood.
“We aren’t going trick-or-treating,” I reminded her in a whisper-growl, “we are hanging out!”
“Hmmm,” she considered the idea of just hanging out for a moment, and decided it didn’t suit her. “No, we” she gestured at herself, then me, and then our wigs, “are trick-or-treating. I need to refill my candy supply for the year.”
For an hour, Annapolis dragged me from door to door, and we explained our matching costumes to southern boomers who thought we were dresses as the Chicks. The joke never seemed to land right with them. Meanwhile, the rest of the group was on our tail and lurked at the end of darkened walkways, like our edgy older-siblings.
When her bag was heavy enough, Annapolis was satiated, and we were all able to walk around the neighborhood as aimlessly as I’d originally wanted. I was finally getting my chance to walk side-by-side with Caylin, as Annapolis bussied herself with harassing Freddie (I just don’t know why you would want to look so dark and scary all the time). Though, when the two of us got too far away from each other, we could both feel it.
When Caylin and I turned a corner, I noticed that I could not see the rest of the group behind us. I could hear Annapolis in the distance yell “WHERE IS MY BEST FRIEND?”
“We should wait a second,” I said.
“I think they will be okay,” Caylin said, “just come with me a little further…” (Girls: IF A MAN TRIES TO SEPERATE YOU FROM YOUR FRIENDS AND LEAD YOU DOWN A DARK PATH—DON”T GO!!!! 9/10 this will not end well).
I let him guide me a few steps further, then he pulled me off the path to where we were completely surrounded by shadows. He took my hands in his. I could only see the outlines of his face where the moonlight glistened.
“Will you be my girlfriend?” he asked.
Suddenly, there were all these emotions I didn’t know what to do with. I did want to be his girlfriend, and Halloween was my favorite holiday, so it felt like a moment that should have been romantic. But the wig felt heavy and awkward. I didn’t feel like myself. And it was so dark. This wasn’t how I pictured it. But it was fine.
“Totally!” I said, already turning back toward my friends.
“Wait!” he put his hands on my arms.
We were face to face.
He leaned in.
It was happening.
His lips, cold and salty, touched my lips.
We were kissing. I’d been kissed.
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