Covalent bonding

[Scintilla prompt choices: 1. Who are you? 2. Life is a series of firsts. Talk about one of your most important firsts. What did you learn? Was it something you incorporated into your life as a result?]

Honestly, I hadn’t given much thought to Kim Cheung before that day. I mean, sure, she had a really nice butt, and yes, she was certain to be our valedictorian at graduation, but otherwise she wasn’t showing up too strongly on my radar. It was Joe who planted the seed. Said he knew, for sure, one hundred percent certain, that Kim would go to the prom with me. I only needed the requisite courage, the intestinal fortitude, the balls, to verbalize a simple sentence while in her presence.

All the other guys were going, had somehow performed the voodoo necessary to successfully pair up, and they were making big plans with a limo, a hotel—the whole nine yards. The night promised to be a once-in-a-lifetime blast, and it wouldn’t be the same without good ol’ Bobby D.

But Bobby D. had no intention of joining them. There was no way any girl would go out with me as long as my face was the zit-factory-and-showroom that it was. “Kim Cheung may be a brainiac,” I said to myself, “but she’s still a girl, and girls don’t like zits and they don’t like me. End of story!”

Just when it seemed I had successfully quashed the idea, I couldn’t help but notice when Kim flashed me a sweet smile as I settled into my seat in Chemistry class. Maybe she did want me to ask her. Maybe she wasn’t like the rest of the girls and could see past the pus farm on my face. Maybe she was different. Just as class was about to begin I heard a rustle at the door. Joe’s face was pressed up against the pane of glass and he flashed me a look that said, “Now is the time! Do it, or else!”

I stewed in my own juices for the entire class period while Mr. Mazer droned on about the properties of covalent bonding. “The stable balance of attractive and repulsive forces between atoms when they share electrons…”

The bell rang. Suddenly, I was seized with the notion that it was now or never, seized with paralysis, seized with a case of the stammers as I found myself tugging on Kim’s backpack, asking her the question I thought, knew, I would never ask a girl: “Will you go to the prom with me?” I nearly passed out cold waiting for her reply. It was as if I was hovering above, somewhere between the light fixtures and the ceiling rafters, looking down at myself, like the ghost of a future-self powerless to stop the cruel hand of destiny.

“Can I think about it?” That’s what she said.

Um, sure. A few class periods later she appeared at my locker. “Um, I think I’m already going with someone else. Sorry.” I was still in a daze, still floating around a few feet from the ceiling. She turned me down. Cold.

Joe, that bastard! This terrible, horrible feeling of deflation, of humiliation — this was his doing. I would never forgive him. Fuck him. Fuck the prom. Fuck these zits. Kim? Who could blame her? After all, I had never spoken two words to her before dropping that bomb on her lap. We didn’t even know each other. What a terrible position I had put her in. What a terrible, horrible, foolish idea. Joe!

So the prom came and went. I listened to all the wild stories about the limo and the hotel. Whatever. One might think that at the very least I had the satisfaction of knowing I mustered up the courage to ask a girl out. After all, I had never done anything like that before. If nothing else, at least I finally showed some guts. But no, there was no solace to be found there. I was pushed into doing something I wasn’t ready to do, and the result was an injury to my self-esteem that might never heal. In fact, I never — not later in high school, not in college, not ever — directly asked a girl out again. Not to this day. Sure, I had a few girlfriends after the zits went away. I even got married, I did. But the few romantic relationships in my life just sort of “happened” without me having to put myself out on the chopping block directly. I paired up with extroverts mostly, or else women who made things easy by dropping a hundred and one hints so that there was truly no chance I’d be shot down.

As I think about it now, this pattern was in place long before Kim Cheung. For instance, throughout my childhood, not once did I pick up the phone to call up a friend to initiate a “play date.” My best friend, David Woodburn, would call me almost everyday, asking if I wanted to play. Ninety-nine percent of the time I was looking forward to his call, but every once in a while I felt annoyed or put upon. I just wasn’t in the mood, nothing personal, yet I would either make up a lame excuse or else play with him anyway. Occasionally other kids would call, perhaps someone whose company I didn’t enjoy at all, yet I would usually end up hanging out with them despite my true feelings. Couldn’t bear the thought of hurting their feelings. Somehow I got it in my head at a very early age that it would be terrible if someone were to feel that way about me, if they were to secretly think (or worse yet, say out loud), “No, I don’t want to play with you!” Often times I would be bored and hoping David would call, and the thought would eventually occur to me, “Why don’t I just call him?” Why? Because maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t feel like playing with me today. If he wants to play, he will call me!

Funny, this reflection started out being about the first time I asked a girl out, but it ended up being more about who I am, in some fundamental way. I am afraid of rejection. Most of us are, to one degree or another, but in my case italics are necessary to drive home the point. I am afraid of rejection. I am much more than this, of course, but this is a bigger part of the story than I had suspected. Oh the many years I spent wracked with the pangs of a desperate longing for intimacy’s embrace, only to stand by motionless, voice mute, as one after another crossed my path with soft eyes and arms open. Oh the many times my spirit cried out for release while I let each opportunity slip away, always the excuse that I was not ready, not yet, but soon.

And what if Kim Cheung had said, “Yes! Yes I will go out with you! What took you so long to ask me!”? What if I was never so badly afflicted with acne in high school? What if years before I had simply called David whenever I wanted to play, understanding and accepting that he may or not be in the mood, so nothing personal? May as well ask, “What if I wasn’t me?”

The truth is, things turned out okay. Really I’ve led a charmed life, on the whole, and I feel more and more grateful with each passing year for my luck of the draw. The pangs are still there, and I’m now grateful for them too. They lead me to where I need to go. The fear is still there as well, only now it doesn’t paralyze or silence me. I’m ready and I know it. I’ve been ready for a long time. No more excuses.