Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 4

Brooke is the first girl I ever asked to be my girlfriend and we officially dated for about 12 hours. It had taken me several months to summon enough courage to make the proposition; I was certain she would turn me down. Even before I asked her out, we would sneak away and make out almost every day, but somehow I wasn’t convinced she liked me in “that way”. Maybe she just needed someone to practice with, or maybe she was bored… Let’s face it, after-school reruns of Duck Tales couldn’t keep a pair of 14 year olds entertained for long.

 

I practiced honing my courage by frequently making fake offers, clearly just joking around. Which she would either fake-accept or fake-refuse, whichever could make a better joke at the moment. And so, when I finally did make my real request, she had to ask: “Are you serious?”

 

“Ummm…” [insert awkward period of silence] “…yeah.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Whew, what a relief! With our romance officially commenced, I began the business of trying to get underneath her clothes. She gracefully dodged my attempts and gently deflected my affections to more appropriate lewd behavior. Unfortunately, it was getting late and we had curfews, so we went to our respective homes and separated for the evening.

 

Brooke was my best friend. She was the first girl, outside of my family that I ever really knew, which is a pretty sad statement considering I was 14 years old when I met her. But I didn’t talk to girls as a general rule… or boys.

 

I had a couple of friends before. Occasionally I would pick up a schoolmate or a neighbor kid and have a play-date or two, but I never really felt close to any of them. Before I would get the chance to really open up either they would move or I would, and I’d be alone again. My closest friend, my childhood mate Geoff, lived half-way across the state from me. Since his parents were friends with mine I’d still see him every year or two, but it hardly satisfied my need for camaraderie.

 

I was a lonely child, and I felt like a freak amongst my peers and even today, I’m not entirely sure this feeling was unwarranted. I imagine most humans feel like outsiders from time to time, particularly children… we’re born with only ourselves to be fully aware of, and the rest of humanity is outside our walls. But there seemed to be more to it, I had evaluated the situation scientifically and gathered evidence for my case:

 

Exhibit A) I was the only kid in school who ate lunch alone.

 

Exhibit B) I was picked last for every team sport. I wasn’t physically inept, I could kick or dodge a ball with the best of them (well… the upper half of them anyway). But still I was the last kid waiting to be picked, even after Willard. Willard! Who, in spite of his coke-bottle glasses, may have actually qualified as legally blind!

 

Exhibit C) When called upon in class, other kids could give answers, even if the answer was wrong. When I was called upon, even if I knew the answer, I could only squeak. The sudden shock of becoming the center of attention rendered me mute. Words could not leave my mouth. Only tiny little moans and inaudible squeals escaped. I faked the flu for two weeks when a class presentation was due, justifying it for the greater good while imagining the horrifying prospect of my tightened, pinched larynx standing in front of the class, sending out high-frequency bursts that would drive neighboring dogs into a killing frenzy.

 

Exhibit D) I had the Dewey Decimal System memorized.

 

I know now that this was my fault, that had I reached out, someone would have taken me in. Even at the time, I knew this, but I didn’t know how to fix it… even the simplest social maneuvers in starting a conversation were beyond the scope of my imagination.

 

This feeling of isolation, as well as a general sense of hopelessness that surrounded my family at the time (my mother was at the tail-end of her own emotional breakdown, my family was evicted from our townhouse on Christmas Eve by our grinchy landlord and had to live for a few weeks in a homeless shelter, and my older brother had been arrested for burglary and traded his sentence in detention for drug & alcohol rehabilitation) led me to have a pre-life crisis when I was 13 years old. I broke down, gave into anxiety and despair, and spent the remainder of my 8th grade year at school at home, sleeping, having panic attacks, and vomiting.

 

When I finally came to, my mother was back on her feet and had gotten a new job and moved us from the shelter and into an apartment of our own. In the same complex lived a couple boys my age, Shawn & Tim… I was still at wit’s end, mentally overwhelmed and emotionally naked, yet they were still interested in friending me. I didn’t really have anything to lose, so I went along, and in doing so I found my path to healing. For the first time in my life, I really let go and allowed myself to become part of the group. We were adventurers together, we were carpenters together, and a handful of times, we were delinquents together.

 

When Brooke moved in, she became part of the group. At first I hid behind Tim & Shawn and said as little as possible, but I eventually relaxed and became comfortable around her. She wasn’t like the other girls I knew. Well… I didn’t know any other girls.. But the girls I saw at school seemed fussy and complicated. Brooke on the other hand, was laid back and funny. I could relate to her, we could talk & joke. As our circle of friends closed to practically just the two of us, (Tim & I had a falling-out with Shawn, and then Tim became involved in after-school activities and spent much of his off-time with his girlfriends), Brooke and I kept each other intimate company.

 

It was this ease of spirit that naturally led us to making lascivious jokes, then making fake intimate gestures, then eventually led us to all-out snogging. She was my first kiss and in truth, I wasn’t joking. The pretense of humor simply allowed me to do these things without putting my pride and my heart on the line. I was taken with Brooke. Having a feminine presence in my life who truly seemed to value my company was a breathtaking sensation. Unfortunately, the humorous facade of our affection allowed me to believe it really was all in jest and I never felt confident that she really did have a romantic interest in me.

 

And so that night shortly before summer when I finally asked Brooke out, I left her on her doorstep and went home and spent the evening with my anxieties. She had been rather quiet on the walk home, we didn’t have our normal chemistry. I hadn’t heard from her in hours… not since she went to bed. Our courtship was clearly in a downward spiral. Did she accept only to be nice and to spare my feelings? (I’ve done the same thing myself.) Was she sick & tired of me pawing at her? What would happen if we broke up? Would we still be friends?

 

This thought terrified me. I hadn’t known any couples to retain friendship after a broken courtship. My brother hated all the girls with whom he had dated. Tim didn’t like any of his former girlfriends either… they were all crazy, pushy brats. Even my father and mother after their divorce, though put on a good front for us kids, I knew they secretly disdained each other. As far as I knew, it wasn’t possible for lovers to separate and still care for one another.

 

I couldn’t handle the idea of Brooke hating me, and so I wrote a note …not “breaking up” with her per se… more like “annulling” our romance. I told her that I hadn’t really meant it, that I was caught up in a moment of pubescent passion. I asked her to please forgive me that I gambled our friendship on such silly whims.

 

I gave Brooke the note the very next morning, and she read it as we walked through the forest. She forgave me and let me know that she just wanted to be friends too. Whew! What a relief! (It wouldn’t occur to me until years later that she might have said this to save face.) Our courtship was over, just hours after it began, and most of those were sleep hours.

 

Tim told me I was an idiot. He was probably right. Yet, before the summer was over, he and Brooke started going out (I gave him my blessing). I was a little jealous watching Tim & Brooke as a couple, but I felt comforted that none of my cherished friendships were in jeopardy. I found that I was pretty happy with the role of the third wheel (no, really). Then, shortly after the school-year started, Tim broke up with Brooke. After that, Tim and I would hang out or Brooke and I would hang out, but they didn’t really spend much time around each other. We were no longer a trio of friends.

 

I rest my case, Tim.

 

Brooke and I eventually started becoming intimate again, but it was all in jest.

 

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 4