Zac, Age 12

“Won't you let me walk you home from school?
Won't you let me meet you at the pool?
Maybe Friday I can
Get tickets for the dance
And I'll take you”
Big Star via Elliott Smith

Eighth grade was a shitty year for me. Actually, I think Eighth grade is a shitty year for everyone. Unless you're one of those genetic freaks who peaks at age thirteen, and then, well, fuck you. Because my mom is really into pop culture and chick flicks, I watched a lot late nineties teen films during my impressionable pre-adolescent years. All of my ideas about popularity and coolness were thus defined by “She's All That”,. “The Breakfast Club” and “10 Things I Hate About You”. Before my first days in junior high, I remember being convinced that I was going to sky-rocket into popularity for the following reasons: I had gotten contacts, I didn't have acne and I wasn't fat. I also wasn't in the school band. I was set! Unfortunately, I didn't factor in my social awkwardness into the equation. So despite the fact that I wore Victoria's Secret underwear, I was still a loser. And believe me, everyone let me know. I was prissy, self-righteous and a know-it-all, three personality traits that ensure you will be harassed on a daily basis in the pre-teen world. I got made fun of on the bus, in class, and in the cafeteria. Also keep in mind that my mother taught “Growing Up Sexually” at my church, where she uttered these words (in front of fifty of my peers), words no seventh grader should ever hear their mother say: “Sex is great. I hope you all have a lot of great sex. Just wait til you're married.” Other than that, Seventh grade wasn't too bad, because everyone was still getting used to the new social classes, which had become uncomfortably exaggerated and emphasized since elementary school. But Eighth grade was different.
I had a locker in the worst possible location. Due to the unlucky happenstance of alphabetical order, it was in a row of all boys. And junior high boys are mean. Especially if you're a dork who has no idea how to talk to them. They shit on me daily by knocking my books off the shelves, and sometimes stood directly in front of the locker, forcing me to fight my way past them. I dreaded going to my locker whenever the bell rang. I considered telling my mom, or the school counselor, or anything to get it to stop, but in the grand tradition of bullies, the second I complained would be the second it got even worse. I was stuck between a rock and a hard locker.
But one boy was differnet. Zac was directly next to me, and while he never stood up for me directly, he was never mean, and even treated me like a real person. He was shorter than me, kind of scrawny, and also sort of resembled a lizard. At least, that's what I thought. Due to a mutual friend, we started talking online, and before long, I realized the unthinkable might have happened. A boy might actually LIKE like me. He walked next to me to class and kind of hung around his locker to talk to me longer. But instead of being elated, I was really fucking anxious.
Not only had I never had a boyfriend, but I never even had a boy show any sort of interest in me AT ALL. Well, that's not true, completely. The weird kind with extreme ADHD who smelled bad in my grade school once bought an ice cream after lunch, and insisted I eat it on the playground while he watched me. (Yes, that's really fucking weird. I bet he has a food fetish now.) I was so used to being outright ignored, if not harassed, that someone showing any interest in me was scary. Really scary.
My discomfort with the whole situation was also caused by my strong desire to be popular. Zac wasn't popular. I had seen enough teen movies to know that if you wanted to be in the in crowd, you needed to land yourself an A list boyfriend. But the year was coming to an end, and no one else showed interest in me, but I was still hopeful. The Semi-Formal dance was coming.
But Zac was the only who asked me, so I said yes, and then immediately had a panic attack. What the fuck was I going to do with a date? But I still got a dress somewhere at the mall, and I remember thinking it was pretty fucking sexy. It was a black tube top dress with a diagonal hem and pink roses on it with glitter all over. Why I thought a tube top would be a good idea for someone who had negative A cups, I have no idea. Of course, the dress was hideous. Actually, I found it a few years ago, and had to choke back vomit from the embarrassment. And, so you know, I topped off the dress with crimped hair. Yikes.
Anyways, I don't remember too much about the actual dance. All I know is that I felt real awkward because Zac was shorter than me, and also because he didn't know how to dance. I didn't want anyone to see me with him, I didn't want to risk any shred of coolness I might have still had. I wondered why as soon as a boy actually liked me, I immediately lost interest in him completely. I had spent the past four years dreaming about a boyfriend and a first kiss, and when it was sort of in reach, I wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.
Of course, the next year was awkward because Zac still had the locker next to mine. We didn't talk for a whole year, but later, in tenth grade, we ended up being good friends. The rest of high school, he was one of my confidants and partners in crime, like the time we found a microwave and threw it off a second floor staircase. I haven't talked to or seen him in a while, but upon stalking his Facebook recently, I saw he turned into a pretty major hottie, with interesting hobbies(according to his Facebook: “Reading,Writing,Cycling,Running,Hiking” Also, I've heard, he enjoys smoking pot and classic rock) (Ok, I like none of those things except writing, but I guess they're all interesting in theory). Any girl would be lucky to date him now. Actually, he was always really considerate and really smart, so I probably would have been lucky to date him way back in junior high.
So I Zac wasn't my first love, or first boyfriend, but he was definitely the first boy who showed romantic interest in me. And he was the first boy I blew off. I'd send him this post, just because I know he'd think it was amusing, but according to his Facebook he's hiking the Appalachian Trail. See, even if I didn't semi-dump him way back when, we would have never worked out anyways.