At 15 years old, I didn’t have any interest in boys. Throughout my childhood I would go to sleepovers with other girls from my class, and while they’d giggle at the pictures of the male models in Teen Vogue and gossip about the latest boys that they’d been smitten with, I would sit on the side and absolutely infuriate them during games of Truth or Dare. The question was always the same. “Come on Delaney, you’ve gotta tell us! Who do you like?”
Naturally, answer was always the same too. I’d offer a half-hearted shrug and a glance to the side. “I’m just friends with boys. I don’t really feel like I need to date them.”
That was why Mike was so important. Mike was the first boy that I’d ever loved. Mike felt like a bit of an outlier. He was …show more content…
Whereas every other girl would mope and complain that their particular dreamboat hadn’t yet swept them off their feet and asked them to go steady, I chose a much more direct approach. I would let him know how I felt.
I remember the day so clearly. It was raining, and we sat in my mom’s car while she ran into the post office to drop off a package. “Mike?” I blurted out in a rushed panic, just loud enough to be heard over the plopping of rain drops atop the car.
“Yessum?” He replied cheerfully, grossly unaware of the weight of my next question.
I began to tremble and briefly began to reconsider my proposal. But my feelings were too strong to allow it. I spit out my feelings as coherently as I could. “Mike, do you want to… Go out… With me?”
There was a pause. I waited patiently; a nervous smile worked its way across my lips as I awaited what was supposed to be a definite yes. But the reaction on his face resembled more that of confusion and remorse than that of the unbridled agreement that I had anticipated.
“Oh boy. Delaney, I …” He faltered. He took note of the expression on my face and thought carefully. “Not… Yet. I really just… I don’t think I’m ready for that. Can we …show more content…
The various mirrors adorning the green room taunted me. It didn’t matter where I looked; I saw myself standing alone. It had been no different for the past year and a half. This was just the first time that I’d been able to see it, as the walls reflected back a desperate, teary-eyed loser. I’d been used. Used for my homework and for my home. I wasn’t someone he’d cared about. I was a cheat sheet and a convenient way to pass the time. That night I deleted his number from my contact list and I swore to never look back.
The thing is, it becomes so easy to create demons when you’re feeling hurt. When your heart gets broken you tend to seek out fault, be it in others or in yourself. The reality is that the issue is rarely so black and white. Nobody has to be wrong when romantic feelings don’t coincide. The reality is that when you’re aching over heartbreak and are so desperate to pin down your emotions on somebody, you might find yourself fighting an antagonist that doesn’t exist.
Mike was never a bad kid. He was somebody that wanted to lend a hand to me when I was lonely and down. He got overwhelmed when I was too afraid to let go. It took me nearly four years to figure that out. Now sometimes I flip through my phone looking for his contact, if not just to say that I’m sorry for painting the boy that cared into the demon that
Naturally, answer was always the same too. I’d offer a half-hearted shrug and a glance to the side. “I’m just friends with boys. I don’t really feel like I need to date them.”
That was why Mike was so important. Mike was the first boy that I’d ever loved. Mike felt like a bit of an outlier. He was …show more content…
Whereas every other girl would mope and complain that their particular dreamboat hadn’t yet swept them off their feet and asked them to go steady, I chose a much more direct approach. I would let him know how I felt.
I remember the day so clearly. It was raining, and we sat in my mom’s car while she ran into the post office to drop off a package. “Mike?” I blurted out in a rushed panic, just loud enough to be heard over the plopping of rain drops atop the car.
“Yessum?” He replied cheerfully, grossly unaware of the weight of my next question.
I began to tremble and briefly began to reconsider my proposal. But my feelings were too strong to allow it. I spit out my feelings as coherently as I could. “Mike, do you want to… Go out… With me?”
There was a pause. I waited patiently; a nervous smile worked its way across my lips as I awaited what was supposed to be a definite yes. But the reaction on his face resembled more that of confusion and remorse than that of the unbridled agreement that I had anticipated.
“Oh boy. Delaney, I …” He faltered. He took note of the expression on my face and thought carefully. “Not… Yet. I really just… I don’t think I’m ready for that. Can we …show more content…
The various mirrors adorning the green room taunted me. It didn’t matter where I looked; I saw myself standing alone. It had been no different for the past year and a half. This was just the first time that I’d been able to see it, as the walls reflected back a desperate, teary-eyed loser. I’d been used. Used for my homework and for my home. I wasn’t someone he’d cared about. I was a cheat sheet and a convenient way to pass the time. That night I deleted his number from my contact list and I swore to never look back.
The thing is, it becomes so easy to create demons when you’re feeling hurt. When your heart gets broken you tend to seek out fault, be it in others or in yourself. The reality is that the issue is rarely so black and white. Nobody has to be wrong when romantic feelings don’t coincide. The reality is that when you’re aching over heartbreak and are so desperate to pin down your emotions on somebody, you might find yourself fighting an antagonist that doesn’t exist.
Mike was never a bad kid. He was somebody that wanted to lend a hand to me when I was lonely and down. He got overwhelmed when I was too afraid to let go. It took me nearly four years to figure that out. Now sometimes I flip through my phone looking for his contact, if not just to say that I’m sorry for painting the boy that cared into the demon that