Youth!

Getting Comfortable

"See ya later!" I announced before hopping on my bike and heading back home. "Text me when you're home safe!" She yelled back. I did just that, and that was the start of a friendship between Claire and I. We would go on to hang out all the time, and if we weren't hanging out we'd at least talk for a few hours a day on the phone. At times it would feel as if she was my older sister by the way she'd tell me about life. She told me how she was studying psychology, and always acted as if she was smarter than me. "School doesn't teach you much of anything you'll use in real life." I said one night over the phone. Claire scoffed. "Yes it does. School is important, it teaches you critical thinking and problem solving skills." She said. I laughed. "Something a nerd would say." I replied. Which was true. When will you use mx+b or any of these math equations or social studies facts to be productive in real life? Or at least, that's what my seventeen year old self thought. Claire would always talk to me about school and tell me I should at least give college a try because it would help steer me in the right direction for a career, but even if she was right about that, I still hated school. I couldn't focus at all, and I always had stuff running through my mind. I hated that too, the fact that my mind ran at a fast pace and there was always stuff going on in there, there was never a moment where I could just relax.  Despite Claire's appearance, she was also kinda dirty, and would talk about her many experiences as a teenager up until recently and it made me feel uncomfortable at times. Another thing she did constantly that annoyed me is bring up Izaya. Izaya was her "internet ex-boyfriend" who although she hadn't talked to him in at least a year, still always brought him up just to suck his dick. "He was so amazing, so handsome! He was too good for me!" She'd say, and repeat the same things over and over in dramatic fashion. Tell the same story of how they met online, and talked for a few months before dating for 8 months or something like that, as if that's supposed to be a long time. Apparently they broke up because this dude wanted to pursue his dream of being a doctor and needed to fully focus on the books, so he dropped her. Simple as that. He obviously didn't care that much about her to even give her a proper goodbye. This supposed "dream" of his to be a doctor wasn't actually even his, it was his parents who really wanted him to be one, and he just followed with that. Even as a kid with no direction at this point, I knew damn well you couldn't possibly be satisfied living a life somebody else planned out for you. Where's the satisfaction in that? "Where's he from?" I'd ask, to which she would reply: "Ohio. I've never met him in real life but maybe I'll go see him..if he's still interested." That part confused me. "How do you date someone but never even meet them. You don't know what he was doing for those 8 months, or what he was actually like!" I told her one time over the phone. "Yes I do, the same way he was over the phone wouldn't change in person, I just know it. That's just how I feel." She replied. I shrugged. "Whatever.  It's not like I care, I just thought if you're gonna mention some guy all the time, you should at least have met him before." I sighed.  It was useless. When someone is in love, which Claire clearly still was, you can't take that away from them. To her, the relationship was real, even if they never met in person. Over time I myself would see the impact that someone can have on you, the connection that can be built even from a long distance. Claire cherished that, so I let her be.

I was bored one day, and called her to ask to hang out. Since she wasn't doing anything, I scooped her on the bike and we went to the state park for a casual hangout. We played on the swings and the playground, before laughing and realizing we were acting like little kids. We lay in the grass field for hours, and took turns asking each other questions, 21 questions. At one point, things turned weird and she asked me: "What's your favorite thing to do when ya know... you're doing it?" Of course it was gonna take this direction, and I knew what "doing it" was supposed to mean. For someone who's so innocent and young looking, she sure had a lot to say when it came to this, I just couldn't picture it at all. As for me, how was I supposed to answer?  "Wow, there's too much to choose from, you go first. What's yours?" I asked, lying so hard because I had never even done anything before. Claire cleared her throat. "Well, for me I like when a guy __________, it makes me feel like a ____." She said, proudly. "Like one time, I had this guy over when no one was home, and....." I always hated when a girl I was talking to would casually talk about stuff she's done before me, it would make my stomach feel funny. If it's just any girl I probably wouldn't care, but if it's someone I was really into and liked, it kinda hurt in a way. It's weird, because it happened in the past so what's there to be jealous of, right? No, it definitely still hurt to hear. All guys feel this way, there's no way you'd be pleased to hear about that, or even the thought of someone you love having a past. You have to accept it, but you cringe when it gets brought up. I'd always just take the pain head on and not say anything, because it felt more awkward to speak up about it. In this case though, Claire was just a friend who I didn't even like, but it still made me feel weird because she was going into too much detail, I didn't need to hear all of this. We're having a chill ass hangout, then boom, insert sexual convo just for her to brag about getting dick. This is the same girl telling me I need to focus more on studying and finding my purpose in life...so confusing. Still, I let her continue on with her story, because she clearly had no interest in sparing details. "Then, he ____ right on my ___, it was great!" She said, smiling with her eyes closed, as if she was reliving those moments right in front of me. Man, this girl is gross. I thought.