I finally got you onto a bed. Not into one. Onto one. We’re sitting here on the edge, twisting blankets in our hands and staring straight ahead, refusing to make contact. Or at least I am. I thought I’d kiss you if I were ever in a spot like this. What do they say about best-laid plans? Crashing and burning? I don’t know. We’re sitting here on a bed. This used to be my bed. A year or so ago. This was my room. The walls are stripped of my Clash posters, and my laundry is noticeably gone, but yep, it was mine. I had a few girls in this bed. I see the headboard’s still broken. Heh. But I don’t think of you like that, yet. I just want to hold your hand. Beatles-style. But I can’t even look at you. So I’ll keep my clothes on. I’d imagine you’d appreciate that.
I really like you. Except the problem is, I just told you I like you. That wasn’t part of the plan. No, I was planning on reading too deep into emails and hugs and admiring from afar. And have this nice little story in my head about how you’d just realize one day while emailing me that you loved me. And right here, where we are now? We’d kiss and open the closet, and there would be Dee Dee Ramone sitting in the closet playing bass, and Joey Ramone would walk in the door singing, “I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend.” That’s the way it was gonna be. Total Rock n Roll High School.
Until he showed up. So what if he knew you before I did? I like you more, and I liked you first. And I’m older. And he owes me. When we were sixteen I wanted to go out with this girl he liked and I didn’t because I’m a good friend and I knew he liked her so I didn’t go out with her. So even though he knows I’m in love with you, even though he totally owes me, he still asked you out. What a d-bag. See how he treats his friends? The problem here is that you said yes. What gives? What do you see in him anyway? I asked him not to ask you out, and he said no, even though I said I wouldn’t be his friend anymore. He didn’t care. D-bag. Then he came over to my house and we fought about it and eventually I relented because I’m a compassionate and forgiving person (see? I’m totally better boyfriend material- even though I’m a girl) and gave him a beer. I just told him not to put it in my face.
So I was going to go smoke a joint because this is my going-away-to-college party and I want to have fun regardless of being screwed over. Then you said to me, because I’m an easy to talk to friend, that you were worried that he didn’t like you cause he wouldn’t go near you. Then me, being compassionate, decided to tell you the truth. That’s why we’re sitting here. Because I’m a good friend to d-bag boy. And I explained that I like you and I get jealous and then I kind of choked on my spit a little and said nothing. This sucks.
Then you say it. The nail in the coffin. You didn’t have to say it. I don’t know what else you could have said, but you single-handedly extinguished all hope, even in the furthest reaches of my fragile little daydreams.
“I’m just hopelessly straight.”
No. No you didn’t. You could have said, “I’m Just Straight.” But you said hopelessly. What do I do with that? Now I am hopeless. I am without hope. Thanks a lot.
Then you add the kicker.
“But if I were gay, you would totally be the first girl I…” and then you trail off. First girl you what? Go out with? Kiss? Sleep with? Punch in the face? Go antique shopping with?
You say some other stuff. I don’t know what. I’m still processing all this information. It’s hopeless but if it weren’t hopeless I’d be your boy-er, girlfriend? But I wear nicer men’s clothes than D-bag, and my hair is cooler, I have better men’s cologne and my CD collection is massive. What does being straight have anything to do with it?  What does it take for a queer girl to get a date in high school? To what God do I have to sacrifice a virgin to?
Ha, looks like I have to sacrifice you to a God just to get a date with you.
What, too soon?
Anyway I stand up, my neck is flushed and I can’t breathe and can we please open a goddamn window? You hug me.
This is the most awkward hug of my life. I want to just hold you tight but I don’t want to weird you out so I hug you at a 45 degree angle, with my pelvic area as far away from yours as humanly possible while extending my arms around your shoulders. This is an architectural jewel of a hug.
D-bag’s standing at the balcony. Fuck off, breeder, and I breeze by him. He goes to talk to you. Whatever. I take a puff of whatever’s being handed to me and pass.
Guess I’m a college girl now. No time to be wasted on seventeen year olds like yourself. Yeah, that’s it. Either way, I’m switching up my Ramones rotation to “I Wanna Be Sedated” instead.
Then from the doorway, I see you guys kiss.
I turn away, cause I can’t look. I exhale smoke into the night sky.
I would be the first girl you…what?