by Carly Zinderman.

You know that Drew Barrymore movie, Never Been Kissed? I totally relate to it, except for being a completely pathetic loser. Yet, in high school, no boy ever showed me the slightest bit of interest. I wasn’t worried about it though, my friends were never asked out either, despite the attempts my closest friend occasionally made on random guys that happened to catch her interest. Other than her over-aggressive pursuit of the male sex, my friends and I had next to no contact with boys during our four years of high school and for most of us, the male-free barrier continued on into our college years as well. But the dearth of dating didn’t bug me as much as you’d think. You don’t miss what you’ve never had and never having had a guy; I didn’t miss not having one. Besides, my friends and I had each other, and that was enough. We would sometimes joke about how we would be old cat ladies, which did bother me, because I’m a really a dog person.

After high school and another two years alone at community college, when I finally transferred to a small private liberal arts school, it was with a great deal of amusement that I found that many of their graduates end up getting married. I had been alone for twenty years, why would things change now?

So it was no surprise that when a boy did show some interest in me, I missed all the signs. Everyone but me recognized his feelings for me. Looking back now, it seems obvious: When I sat in a chair with my legs spread apart, he said I looked like I was ready to have sex. My roommate came in to find us lying on my bed together and asked what was going on with us. I said we were just friends. Not until the bet did he tell me how he felt, and even then, I didn’t believe it.

We both really liked the movie Orange County. I insisted it was shot at our school, he insisted it wasn’t. So we decided to make a bet and the loser had to answer any question the winner asked. I won. But I was too shy to ask him out. So it was in total shock that I heard him say he found me attractive. What did that mean? Nobody found me attractive. So I asked him what he meant by that. The poor boy was so flustered; he took a while to respond. Looking back, it seems cruel to have made him confess his feelings twice. But I honestly didn’t understand what he could have meant.

High school may have slowed me down, but other than low self-image, I’m almost entirely recovered. My friends, I fear, have not fared so well. One moved overseas and it’s unclear whether or not she’s entered the dating arena. Another started dating even after I did, and has lost her sense of self and identity through a series of odd dating experiences. And my closest friend? She’s no longer my closest friend. She was the first to date and so desperate to have a man that she became an instant relationship whore in series of long-term relationships with boys that are not right for her, especially her latest live-in lover. Now, four years later, after surviving the biting fiasco of our first stumbling kiss that first boy and I are still together, happy in love.

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