I don’t remember the specific time or place, but I remember being asked out by a guy friend of mine in seventh grade.  I liked him.  He was my friend.  When we were younger, we used to go fishing together or ride our bikes around town.  It was easy and fun hanging out with him. 

I was always a little bit of a tomboy: climbing trees, catching snakes, building forts, fishing or making campfires.  I’m sure this was my brother’s influence, my idolization of him, as well as my natural tendency toward all things outdoors or mechanical.  But at that time, I don’t think this boy and I hung out much anymore.  Things changed between the boys and girls in sixth and seventh grade.  There was a new tension to the simplest interactions.  It was no longer OK to hang out all the time with boys. 

I clearly remember my reaction when he asked me out.  I was shocked and embarrassed.  I couldn’t understand why he would want to ‘go with me.’  “No,” I said, “No way!”  He replied, “Aw, come on.  Why not?”

“I don’t know.  I just don’t want to.”  It was the truth.  I didn’t know why I didn’t want to go out with him.  In fact, I had never considered going with anyone, dating hadn’t crossed my mind.  It wasn’t personal.  I just wasn’t ready to date, and couldn’t quite wrap my head around the fact of my friend wanting to date me.

After a few more tries, he gave up and asked out my best friend.  She said yes, and I felt relieved.  But one day she cornered me and said, “You know he still likes you.  You should go with him.”  I looked at her aghast, “But you’re going out with him!”

She smiled with her signature smirk, “Yeah, but he really likes you.  You should go with him.  Give him a chance.”  I just shook my head.

The whole mad crush and dating ritual perplexed me.  My friends started plastering their walls with pictures of movie stars, or waxing poetic on boys they adored.  I wasn’t there yet.  I never got there.  I went all through my adolescence into adulthood without ever having a crush.  I went all the way through middle school and high school without going on a single date.  It wasn’t that no one wanted to date me, but that I honestly couldn’t see the point.  It seemed like a lot of bother for not much return.  I never understood what all the fuss was about.

Certainly, there were guys I found attractive, but that was it.  ‘He’s handsome.  I wonder if he’s a good kisser,’ I’d think to myself (not that I’d ever been kissed), but it wasn’t accompanied by a pounding heart or blushes.

I think I was afraid to open myself up to hurt or disappointment.  My family life was tough at that time, and my parents’ and then step-parents’ relationships were volatile and unpredictable.  If that was were passion lead you… I wanted nothing to do with it.