To: yikes!izzy
Date: Thursday, December 15—8:33 PM
Subject: pretty girls & kissing boys
Dear Isabel,
That’s not what I meant to do. I thought it might help you feel better. My mom’s always saying stuff like that—like being of service to other people is sometimes the best way to heal yourself. “The best way to build self-esteem is by doing esteemable acts” is one of her favorite sayings when I’m moping around. I’m not really sure how it’s supposed to work, but I tend to trust my mom about these things. If anything, thinking about someone else for a little while means not obsessing about yourself, and that’s a good thing, right? Sorry if this is annoying. It’s annoying when my mom says it too.
Have you ever tried telling Trevor how you feel? Told him you feel like he’s using you? Maybe he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. Although, honestly, I find that hard to believe. I hope you’re not offended, but he sounds like a real asshole to me. What do you see in him? Have you ever stopped to think about that? You could do much better. Trust me.
I guess you have a point with your “pretty girls with low self-esteem” theory. Guys can be assholes, I’ll be the first to agree. But maybe not all of them do it for the same reasons. Maybe some of them aren’t predators. Maybe they go for these sad girls because they have some instinct to protect them and take care of them. Although I guess that’s still pretty egotistical when you think about it. The guy gets to think of himself as a kind of knight in shining armor, and the girl still probably doesn’t feel that great about herself, but now, in addition, she’s dependent on some guy. Jesus. My mom jokes sometimes that most of society’s problems could be solved if the government provided all citizens with free therapy. I think she’s on to something.
In other news, I kissed a boy the other night. It’s not as exciting as it sounds, so don’t start planning a big coming-out party for me just yet. Jeremy and I were hanging out on this dock Saturday night. Remember how clear and still and weirdly warm it was that night? Somehow Jeremy got a bottle of rum, and I don’t even like to drink all that much, but it seemed really important to him that I drink this rum, so I did, and we got sort of drunk. We were looking at the little phosphorescent plankton in the water, and we had a pile of rocks we collected from the beach. We’d throw the rocks in and watch the plankton light up as the rock sank to the bottom, kind of like the sea’s version of a shooting star. It was pretty magical, and the rum was making me feel all warm and nostalgic. It felt a lot like camp, except instead of you, it was Jeremy. And I guess that’s what I was thinking about when this conversation happened:
Jeremy: “What if I tried to kiss you right now?”
Me: “Huh?”
Jeremy: “If I kissed you, would you kiss me back?”
Me: (thinking for a second) “Yeah, probably.”
So then he leans over and kisses me and I drop all the rocks I’m holding and I hear them scatter all over the wooden dock. For a second I’m just in shock, and then my brain registers that my lips are moving and there’s a tongue in my mouth, and I’m pretty sure it feels good. So then I relax and I think I’m enjoying it, but then I remember it’s Jeremy, and that makes me feel weird, and then I realize I’m just too conscious of the entire thing, and what my brain thinks and what my body feels are just not agreeing. So I stop and Jeremy’s looking me in the eye with this expectant look on his face, and I just feel so embarrassed and exposed, like I’ve been caught in a lie, and I don’t know what to do so I just look away and start collecting all the rocks that I dropped. Then this conversation happens:
Jeremy: “So?”
Me: “Hmm.”
Jeremy: “Hmm, what?”
Me: “Your lips are harder than a girl’s.”
Jeremy: “What else?”
Jeremy: “Gee, thanks.”
Me: “No, I mean you’re a good kisser and everything. I just don’t think I’m very gay.”
Jeremy: “Oh.”
Me: “I’m sorry.”
Jeremy: “It’s okay. It was worth a try.”
Me: “If I was gay, I’d totally be gay for you.”
Jeremy: “Thanks.”
Me: “Are things going to be weird now?”
Jeremy: “Probably. For a little while. But I’ll get over it.”
Me: “That’s good.”
Jeremy: “Someone should start a college that’s all gay people, so people like me who grew up on straight-ass islands can be sure to get a date and not get crushes on straight boys all the time.”
Me: “Maybe in San Francisco.”
Jeremy: “Yeah, I’m already applying to all the schools in San Francisco. Even the Catholic one.”
Me: “Especially the Catholic one.”
Then we sit there for a few seconds, and it’s awkward, and Jeremy says, “This is awkward,” and I say, “Yeah,” and he says, “Why don’t I take you home and we can start forgetting this happened,” and I say okay even though I know he probably shouldn’t be driving, but I don’t know what else to do. We don’t say anything the whole way there, and when we drive up to my house, I say, “Bye,” and he says, “Bye,” and that’s the end of that. Everything has stayed pretty much normal at school, except for some little things. Like I’ve noticed he doesn’t look me in the eye as much as before. And he doesn’t touch me as much—not that he touched me a lot to begin with, but sometimes he’d slap me on the back, stuff like that. It’s like things have turned slightly formal between us. I really hope this doesn’t last forever.
I’m confused. I keep wondering if maybe I’m a little bit gay. Maybe my aversion to kissing Jeremy just came from some internalized homophobia I’ve picked up from the media. Maybe the true feelings were in the moments I was enjoying it. But then every time I think of it, it doesn’t turn me on at all. But I have this feeling like I miss Jeremy. Maybe I’m not very gay at all, but I just miss the ease of our friendship. Maybe when you’re drunk, kissing anyone feels good.
How are you supposed to know?
Dazed and confused,
Connor