It was a Saturday evening in the month of May. My mother was applying cosmetics on my face and tying my hair in a messy bun. In a couple hours I would be going to my first school dance, and I was horribly nervous.
I stepped out of the aging Toyota minivan, feeling confident in my dress from Express. I looked up and saw him in the distance, with sunglasses that glistened in the remaining light of the sunset. With the aid of gel, his hair was spiked in its usual fashion and he was wearing a blue Hawaiian tee. Though he was in tropical attire, he looked like a prince to me.
Tunes of Taylor Swift, melodies of Michael Jackson, and choruses of Chris Brown were all being pumped loudly from the speakers above. “Some dance, huh?” Henry asked, yelling loudly so he could be heard. I nodded. The school had arranged, with the help of Spirit Cruises, for our school dance to be on a cruiseship.
Henry got up and walked upstairs to the deck. “Are you going to tell him?” I turned around. It was one of the girls in my class. For the past week, I had been pestered and pressured by my peers and tonight was no exception. Ignoring her vexing persistence, I got up and walked towards the dance floor.
As I shifted my weight from foot to foot and swayed my arms in some rhythmic motion, a nauseating nervousness overcame me once more. I knew I had to do it, otherwise the whole point of coming would have been a waste. “Just one more song,” I said to myself before finally deciding to walk up the stairs to the deck.
And there he was, alone and sitting on one of those cheap white plastic chairs. I took a deep breath, creating a cloud in the cold night air, and walked towards him.
I swallowed, my throat still dry.
“Hey... Um... Since last year... I...”
“What?” he asked, looking in all directions. I looked too, only to find all of our classmates eyes staring back at us.
“I’ve liked you since last year.”
I then ran back downstairs, hiding my face from all possible eyes that could be still watching me.
That was four years ago.
I was a 7th grader and that was my first time (and so far, only) confessing my feelings to a boy.
You may be inclined to call me weak, not confident. But after seeing so many teenagers these days who would rather tell their feelings via text, instant messaging, Facebook, or pretty much anything that is not face-to-face, I’d have to disagree with you. Putting yourself out there, exposed and unprotected, and ready to be slashed within a second with the sword known as rejection takes a lot of effort. Quite the contrast compared the contemporary way: pressing your fingers on a keypad, pressing the “Enter” key, and then hiding the device until you feel like finding it again, as fear builds up inside of you.
What happened to Henry and I? A week later I was informed that he asked out a classmate of mine via text message. Maybe not the loveliest ending, but hey, this fairytale is still a work in progress. One day I will find my true Prince Charming and we will live happily forever after.