At high school, a same-sex awakening.
I had a classic New York City public school experience – overcrowded and underfunded, but filled to the brim with the beautiful diversity that was reflective of the city. My day to day life there for a spell was pretty nondescript – I went to classes, hung out with friends, and had a boyfriend.
There is one day, however, that changed all of that.
I remember how brisk the morning was. It was Winter and my vest jacket wasn’t providing the amount of warmth that I wished it had been (plus, I insisted on leaving the house with my hair still wet from the shower, despite my mother’s warnings about being cold and catching a cold). My first few classes were monotonous and seemed to last far and beyond the 42 minutes of time that they were normally allotted.
Morning turned to afternoon and I was walking to gym class, a challenging exercise as the path led through the most congested hallway in the school. It was so jammed at all times that the hallway was known as Times Square. However frustrating it was to navigate through kids with giant backpacks and girls stopping to gossip or couples stopping to kiss, it was where I first saw her.
Walking through the crowd going in the opposite direction was a girl that I had never seen before. There was something about her that sparked my interest and I couldn’t take my eyes off of her as she made her way down the hallway. She was different, her hair short and trim, her face square, her gait was wide and confident. I watched until the sight of her getting smaller and smaller until she disappeared into the crowd.
It wasn’t until someone jammed their elbow into my side and told me to move that I realized I had slowed my pace, in fact, nearly stopped in that corridor I usually speed walked through.
In fact, during those split seconds when I caught sight of her, I had forgotten where I was. Time and space has ceased to exist and all of my senses honed in on her, her gait, her stride, her brown eyes, her short fingernails and the way her weight shifted to keep her backpack on as she made her way down the hallway.
Still, I shook that off and thought nothing abnormal about my interest in her. There were often girls who struck my curiosity and intruded into my thought patterns. I supposed that everyone thought these things as well. Surely, there was nothing weird about this interest in the new girl.
But I took my time getting to the lunchroom that day, as if I were afraid to face my friends. I tried to socialize and play it cool, but my thoughts kept racing to her.
I went home after school with a simultaneous heaviness and lightness. I was afraid to call my boyfriend, heavy with worry that I couldn’t hide that something had changed, that I was no longer interested in him, perhaps that I never was. And I felt a lightness when I thought about her, tingles running down my spine, something I had never felt before.
So for the next few weeks and months that followed, I thought about her. My eyes scanned the mass of students with desperation between classes, searching for the familiar black backpack, or the top of her brown, wavy hair. My whole day spent waiting for that ten seconds when I would see her before gym class as she made her way down the hallway opposite me. Sometimes she was with a friend, something I longed for most because I got to hear her voice and see her soft, pink lips moving rhythmically as she conversed. My ears strained to hear the intoxicating sound of her laugh, listening for the rise and fall of her voice, engrossed in hallway conservation. I wouldn’t always get to see her and my heart would sink as I ran to my own class, filled with defeat and an unprecedented feeling of loneliness.
I felt like I was a different person. I felt as though I had cheated on my boyfriend because my mindset couldn’t have been further away from him. In fact, no one seemed to notice that I had undergone major internal construction.
One night, when the sound of my heart pounding ferociously kept me from falling asleep, I pulled out a pen and a piece of stationary and I told her how I felt about her. I told her how touching her lips would send my own into a world of ecstasy. I told her that I didn’t ever consider I might be gay, that she’s the first girl and the only person I had ever felt this way about.
I took the letter with me to school the next day and I went to the gym lockers first thing in the morning. I took a deep breath, letter in hand, and placed it in the corner of her locker, knowing that in an hour, she would open it to get her gym equipment.
I went about the rest of my day with little regard for anything other than fear. I was afraid she would be frightened by the fervor in my letter. Perhaps, a thought even worse, she would simply not be interested in me. Maybe she’d show all of her friends the letter and they’d have a big laugh.
Several weeks went by and nothing happened. I tried to avoid her in the hallway, embarrassed that she would catch my eye and sneer or worse.
Then one day, as I was walking from gym class through that crowded hallway, someone grabbed my arm. It was her.
She pulled me out of the crowd and into a quiet corner.
“Hi Allison.” Her voice sounded one thousand times more sensual when it produced my name. My name rolled from her smooth lips. However nervous I was, waves of excitement ripped through me and I realized I had never felt so vulnerable in my life. I had never placed all of my hopes on one person before.
“Hi,” I whispered meekly. With all of the emotions and thoughts running throughout my veins, I could think of nothing to say.
I was still frightened because these feelings towards the same gender were so new, but they felt too right for me to fight them. It seemed as though I should have always known that I was capable of finding another girl attractive. After all, how could I deny that my feelings for her were anything but beautiful and natural? I didn’t think about the gravity of labeling myself in a particular sexuality. I felt as though I was a child again, having my first crush, only this time, the feelings were intensified.
“Why don’t you give me a call sometime?” She handed me a piece of paper that had her name and a number neatly written on it. She has allowed me into her life. “I read your note. I’m gay and so thrilled that you told me about you. I have a girlfriend, but would love to be friends with you.”
It was a punch to the gut, but not like I had expected. I realized that I had tied my newfound identity up in a school girl crush. It wasn’t her I was so obsessed with, but who she awakened within me.
I spoke with her on the phone that next week. As we started to communicate more, she became less of a goddess in my life and more of a real person- a wonderfully, sweet compassionate person and a dear friend. She introduced me to other queer kids and took me with her to queer hangouts around the city. She opened me up to a whole, new world where I was able to become fully myself. And naturally where I found lots of cute girls to date.