The point is: that year, I ended up in a charter school program that had me taking classes at the local community college, which was terrifying after years of studying alone. For the rest of the semester, I’d stare at him longingly through class and think of him around the clock despite knowing I’d never work up the confidence to speak to him myself. I knew no one in the class and spoke to no one on campus. At the time I was proud of myself for being ready to stick to my guns and turn down a group sex encounter with the best-looking person I’d ever seen.I was socially inept and uninterested in dating of any kind until the first day of my sociology course, when this guy walked in and obliterated all solitary impulses: he was wolfishly handsome with straight black hair cut in a perfect rock ’n roll shag. I’d show up, attend my classes, go home and quietly do my homework. As the semester progressed, I noticed a few of the more sexually advanced girls (all of them 19 or 20) would talk to him after class. And for a while my self-control seemed to work out for me: the boy and I became friends. I eventually lost my virginity to him on a twin bed in a filthy house he shared with an obsessive-compulsive 45-year-old Scientologist who refused to throw away newspapers.That first kiss came from a young aspiring pharmacist who was a foot shorter than me and had tricked out his car to look like KITT from . My second kiss was from an older boy with a devilock, so that’s one I can be proud of. While I frantically searched, Tiffany hurried outside and drove away. He went to his own car, stopped, walked back around and stood over me. “I kind of thought that’s what was going on,” he said, “but you can never be too careful, so I brought the textbook and a box of condoms.” I sat down next to him. We sat on the hood of his car for a while and talked about all the things we had in common, which were actually very few.My slow development was further stymied by homeschooling, which I’d taken up in seventh grade for reasons that are neither relevant nor terribly interesting. Natives kill them because they think they’re demons.” In retrospect, this interaction revealed nothing, but at the time I sat there in class drawing hearts on my notepad as my own swelled with thoughts of In this way, teenage girls have no survival skills and are unequipped for the world. “I guess that’s pretty smart.” “Community college girls are all about the dick,” he said. I sighed and shrugged and at this point, the whole harrowing ordeal had subsided and my nerves were left to fray and I had no more will to fret about my desirableness. But having just one TV show you both watched growing up, or reading the same book and liking it: it seems like all the intimacy in the universe when you’re 16.She hadn't acknowledged my interest, though, except to say that she wanted to be single after a bad experience breaking up with her last boyfriend. "A lot." "Me too," was her answer, and she leaned over and gave me a quick hug.I arrived an hour late, and as we were loading her luggage into the trunk of my '94 Volvo, it stalled out, so we were stuck waiting in the front seat until it would start again. I asked her about her vacation (she lived in Hong Kong, so any story was interesting), and told her about mine. In the darkness I fumbled for my keys and tried the ignition again; the car started and we headed for our college. Most girls in my hometown started holding hands in third or fourth grade, kissing in fifth or sixth, dry humping — as teens are wont to do — by eighth. “Then go get some more.” There I was in the basement with my knees bent so my head didn’t touch the ceiling, wondering how I was going to talk my way out of this weeknight teenage orgy and the four supposedly enormous anal beads in my backpack without sounding like the child I absolutely was. If he didn’t like me anymore because I was a socially inept, frightened virgin who didn’t want to have group sex with him, then we just weren’t meant to be. Let’s take a rain check.” It was like my fever broke.
When I was a teenager, my friends started reading this new book called I Kissed Dating Goodbye. After reading it myself, I grew into as big an opponent of dating as you could find.That night we were staying in the dorms, planning to make the trip to NYC the next morning.I dropped my two duffel bags off in my room, then went upstairs to hers to keep her company as she sorted through her three suitcases and two boxes of clothing, electronics accessories, and documents.My nights were based heavily around the nightclub, the doors of which would open around ten p.m.when all the sun-struck parents would waddle off to bed, while their young would begin swigging cheap Mexican lager and vodka-lemonades.