In All For Love

You Don't Know My Name

The last thing I want to do is be like Alicia Keys ass in her iconic song "You Don't Know My Name" but desperate times call for desperate measures and I'm trying to figure out a way to shoot my shot to Derrick Bryant without coming off as well– thirsty. Derrick Bryant, who is basically my crush, and the most handsome guy at my high-school– doesn't know that I exist but I in dumb ass fashion want him to notice me enough to at least take me to prom... I know, it's dumb as fuck right? But– at this point, it doesn't seem like I have nothing to lose, right?
    Typing out the message on notes in my phone, I write: Hey— this is Janelle, we attend the same high-school, and I know that girls don't usually do this— but I think you're pretty great and really handsome—and I wanted to know if you would like to meet up some time? Like perhaps a date?
    I groan and pause from typing. This is more challenging than I thought. What could I possibly say to get Derrick— thee Derrick Bryant to notice me? Should I start off with saying something flirty? Quirky? Nerdy? What should I say? I mean— he's one of the finest guys in school what would he possibly—
    Wait... what if I still introduce myself to him and just tell him how I feel. That shouldn't be too forwarding right? Let's try this again.
    Hi, um. My name is Janelle— we attend the same high-school, and I've seen you around campus numerous times and I wanted to see if you were open to possibly going out for coffee or something one day? I think you're pretty handsome— and... I would like to get to know you more.
    I sigh. This has to be the most horrible message ever in the history of shooting your shot. I need to send this to Soraya to proof read because I don't know what else to say. I proceed to highlight the message I typed in my notes, go onto Instagram and click on the direct message icon in the upper right hand corner. I scroll down and click on the first person within my suggested list— paste my message, and press send.
    After sending the message, I click on the messages thread where Soraya and I share videos/posts to one another to add to the message I sent her, only to find out that I don't see the message I sent her.
    Sitting up in my bed, I groan. This is ridiculous. Where is the message, and who did I send it to? Retracing my steps, I click on the first person within my suggested list. Please let it be one of my siblings or a family member.
    YoungBoyNate. The username reads.
        Shit.
Fuck my life.

Out of all the followers on my Instagram page, I had to send him this text-message that was meant for my best-friend Soraya to view. Not my ex-boyfriend Nathan. I mean there's nothing wrong with Nathan, it's just ever since he and I broke up during the summer of our sophomore year all because he went to Kentucky. Afterwards, I was done with him-- which is why I am puzzled or better yet troubled to realize that not only was he a follower on my Instagram page but that I accidentally sent him the message that was meant for Soraya to proof read before I anonymously sent it to Derrick Bryant: a fellow senior at school that I've had a crush on since I've laid eyes on him that fateful summer, when my older twin sisters, older brother and I went out for ice-cream sundaes at the neighborhood ice cream parlor.
    As we were sitting outside on a wooden bench, me being the youngest out of the bunch was sandwiched between the twins: Chloe and Tia. My mom didn't want to name them with anything that rhymed because she wanted them to be viewed as individuals and boy-- was my mom right because the twins couldn't be anymore different. My brother Connor-- the oldest of our crew-- was seated on the edge telling us another story about his fantasizing experiences as a medical student at Howard University, when Derrick Bryant walked by with his arm looped around his girlfriend Kierra at the time. Seeing him on that fateful summer day made my heart skip a beat, palms sweat and in classic Janelle fashion, I spilled the rest of my ice-cream sundae on the clothes I was wearing causing me to blush as I became self conscious, while I felt the cold ice-cream soak through my shirt, while the chocolate syrup dripped down my thighs and cascaded down my legs. And of course, Chloe, Tia and Connor didn't do anything else but laugh at my expense while handing me the napkins they held at the bottom of their sundae cups. Furthering my embarrassment back then I was a sophomore in high-school, and so was Derrick. Now we're seniors in highschool and he's single, which means I'm one step closer to getting him to notice me enough to take me to prom.
    I release a sigh as I reposition my body to get comfortable in my bed. I need to call Soraya, but she's probably studying for her upcoming Physics test. I reopen my Instagram page, and click on the direct messaging icon. Perhaps, Nathan doesn't even use his Instagram page that would make this process much easier. I glance at the bottom of the screen to see three bubbles dancing, which could mean only one thing-- he's responding. Oh-- no, I need to call Soraya... like now.
    Immediately, I facetime Soraya on my Macbook that's resting in the middle of my queen sized bed. I hear footsteps running up the staircase outside my closed door, as Soraya's face appears on my computer screen. She's in her father's office, I can tell by viewing the very traditional looking wooden bookcase that's her background.
    "Hey girly, what's up?" she asks. Soraya has been my best-friend since seventh grade, and honestly-- she's my only friend.
    I release a deep sigh, as tears swell in my eyes. "You know that message, I was going to send to you via Instagram practicing what I was going to send to Derrick anonymously... and I accidentally sent it to Nathan!"
    Soraya's mouth drops open, "Nathan? As in-- you're ex boyfriend Nathan?!"
I nod, "Nathan--Nathan." Sometimes, I wonder why as black people to get our point across about remembering someone we have to repeat their names twice. It's like an unspoken traditional thing that we do.
    Soraya exhales, "Yoooo-- that's wild!"
    "You think?! And get this, he's typing a response"
    She squeals, "Did you check to see anything yet?"
    "Nope, I'm nervous. This is super awkward."
    Soraya shrugs, "Girl, be like Nike and just do it. I'm curious to see what he says."
    I mumble, as I pick up my phone and check my Instagram Direct Messages, "I'm not."
Seconds later, I see that Nathan responded with only three words: This for me?
What kind of response is that? Ugh, he's such an idiot! I don't know how I dated him my freshman year of high-school.
    "What did he say?" Soraya asks.
    "He said only three words: this for me?"
    "That's it?"
    "Yep."
    "Woah..."
    "Mhm hm.."
    "You should respond."
    "No."
    "Hear me out, just do it and see what he says."
    "Why?"
    "I don't now-- you just never know."
    "Soraya..."
    "Janelle... do it. You have nothing to lose."
    "My dignity."
    "Janelle."
    "Fine." I grumble as I begin typing a response to Nathan.
    "What are you going to say?" she asks. Sometimes, Soraya can be real nosey when she wants to be.
    I shrug, as I type a message to Nathan: Nope. It wasn't meant for you. My bad.
    Seconds later, Nathan responds: Who was it meant for?
    I respond: All you need to know is that it wasn't meant for you.
    He responds: You know that I know it's for Derrick, right?
    I groan, again-- I don't know what I saw in him my freshman year that caused me to date him.
"What did he say?" Soraya asks as she munches on a carrot dipped in hummus.
    "He basically said that he knew the message I sent him was for Derrick."
Soraya sighs, "Nathan has always been a sneaky bean."
    I roll my eyes, "Oh he's always been something alright... and I just don't understand."
    "So, how are you going to respond?"
    I shrug, "I'll figure it out. Give me a sec."
What could I possibly say in response to Nathan's very rude message. I don't know whether or not I should keep that same energy or not. It's weird, I can write creative stories, or academic essays all day long without a problem but as soon as I get into this realm of writing a message to someone, I freeze. Worst part of this all, I'm freezing while sending a message to Nathan and I don't even like him anymore. Well, here goes nothing...
    Then why did you ask if it was meant for you?
Seconds later, he sends a response: I don't know. He must get a kick out of this at my expense.
I reply: Okay
    Seconds pass that turns into minutes and he no longer responds.
"Janelle, did he say anything else?"
    "Nope. After I sent him a message asking why'd he ask if the message was meant for him since he knew that it wasn't-- he didn't respond anymore after saying that he didn't know why..."
    Soraya nods, "Oh... well, girly-- my mom just texted me and informed me that it's time for dinner. I'll catch you tomorrow at school."
    I nod, her parents love having family dinner. Whenever I spent the night at her house, I always thought that it was pretty nice. I mean-- my family has family dinners too, it's just not as traditional in comparison to Soraya's.
    After ending the facetime call with Soraya, I still feel anxious about accidentally sending the message to Nathan. Usually to get rid of my anxiety, I would indulge in writing a story. However, at this very moment, all I want to do is eat some chips and watch my all-time favorite movie Sixteen Candles. Sixteen Candles is an 80's teenage romance comedy that gives all the feels. Starring Molly Ringwald who stars as the sweet, shy and complex Samantha Baker and 80's teenage heartthrob Michael Schoeffling who stars as the incredible Jack Ryan. My mom exposed me to this movie when I was about twelve years old and was emotionally crushed because my crush at the time: Rico Cleveland wanted another girl in class instead of me. I was as heartbroken as a twelve year old could get, but luckily my mom made me curl up next to her on the couch and watch Sixteen Candles as we shared a pint of Ben & Jerry's cherry garcia ice-cream. Since then I have fallen in love with movie, and Ben & Jerry's ice-cream.
    "Nelle Nell, may I come in?" asks my dad.
I sigh, ever since I turned seventeen years old, my dad has been trying his hardest to be my bestest friend which is great because I understand how blessed I am to have an active father in my household but sometimes, I just wish that he'd let me breathe a little bit.
    "Sure, dad."
My dad comes into my spacious bedroom carrying a pint of Ben & Jerry's strawberry ice-cream: my second favorite Ben & Jerry's ice-cream and a silver spoon.
    "I heard the intro of Sixteen Candles playing when I walked past, and I figured you'd want some ice-cream to go along with it. You were pretty quiet during dinner, everything alright?" he says as he hands me the ice-cream and spoon while sitting on the edge of my bed.
    I shrug, and I peel off the top and stick my spoon into the creamy yet frozen solid delightful treat.    
    "I'm alright, dad. I was quiet. No big deal."
Dad shrugs, "Janelle." he asks in an attempt to probe my thoughts.
I chuckle in an attempt to lessen his probing and that I'm okay, while I'm in fact-- not okay.
"Dad, I'm good."
"Janelle, you know that I know you right?"
        I cringe, I hate it when he uses that line, it's like he's telling me that he knows me better than I know myself, which isn't the case.
    "Dad," I groaned.
    He chuckles, "Okay, okay-- I'll leave you alone to eat your ice-cream and watch your movie. I love you, kid" he says as he stands up, and gives me a kiss on my forehead.
I smile looking up at my dad, "love you too."