ExposedNYC

Just realized I left some unfinished business on my story of dating a freshman, and since it’s one I use to remind myself of the confidence I’m able to muster when needed, I thought now would be a good time to continue:

After a surprisingly great first date with a younger guy, I was expecting a phone call, or to at least run into him near my locker. Instead, I found him avoiding me all week long. In the tradition of high school gossip mills, I was told through friends that he was now dating a girl in his class and had said that I was a bad kisser.

I was fuming mad of course, but came to terms with it over the next two years and we actually developed a friendship. By senior year I even invited him to a formal dance with me, under the guise that this was no indication whatsoever of romantic involvement.

I got all dolled up, of course, with my hair done, a great dress and the air of confidence that only comes with not worrying about impressing anyone. This night was just for me and I had an idea brewing in the back of my head.

After the dance, he pulled up in front of my house to drop me off. I thanked him for a fun night and he leaned in to give me a hug. I seized this opportunity to silence the nagging voice in the back of my mind that refused to accept someone doubting my abilities in any arena.

“So, I heard that you said I was a bad kisser,” I whispered in his ear. He jumped backwards momentarily, but I took his face steady in my hands, leaned in, closed my eyes and pressed my lips to his. I started slowly, taunting his lips until I felt him return the favor. I let the tension build until I was confident that he had become completely engrossed in the moment, and then I pulled away, grabbed my purse, turned to him and said, “I don’t ever want to hear it again,” before jumping out of the car and slamming the door.

We never dated again, but his last words to me in my yearbook were “I’ll never doubt you again.” I was vindicated.

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