The Blurs of Summer

When last I wrote, I was speaking of a certain boy who was wooing me via Internet. From here on out (and he will be a regular feature for a while), I'm referring to him as "C."

C. IM's me every evening beginning in mid-April, making flirty comments on my away messages, and we friend each other on Facebook. We discuss meeting in person sometime, and I coyly ask for his number "to simplify the possible meeting-up" - and he immediately starts sending me pictures of himself. At the time, I didn't have a camera-phone yet, so I would send him pictures via AIM. One evening while chatting, we start listing things we personally want to do over the summer. I say how much I'd want to see the upcoming Cezanne exhibit at the art museum. Looking up the prices on the website, I add "Nevermind, it's like $23 each." Then he adds "WELL I have a family membership, so actually we could get in for free..." Color me excited.

The day of: Giddy and throwing on my carefully-chosen outfit (teal-colored skinny jeans, a pop-art Marilyn Monroe shirt, leopard-print flats, a bright scarf in my hair and a hoodie just in case), I somehow ate a sandwich, repainted my nails, and then ran out the door to the train, barely paying attention to whatever music was coming in through my iPod. He was also taking his train in from the Main Line, and we agreed to find each other in Suburban Station. Awkwardly looking around, I suddenly notice a skinny and very cute boy with chin-length hair & wearing a backpack looking at me - so we smile, introduce ourselves formally, and start off racing each other up the steps to the street. We begin walking up the Ben Franklin Parkway to the museum, laughing, joking, and running around. When we enter the museum and quickly go through the exhibit, sneaking up on each other amongst all the seriousness. He asked if there was anything else I really wanted to see, so I pulled him along through the modern section of the museum, pointing out the pieces I love - finally ending at the Duchamp room. We sat on the bench in the middle of the room, and while I try to explain Duchamp's two-glass-paned "The Bride Stripped Bare by Her Bachelors", C. leans over and rests his head on my shoulder.

In the meantime before getting dinner, he suggested we hang out in the bit of park space behind the art museum. Of course we couldn't just walk down to the grass; we had to climb down the giant rocks - conveniently creating an opportunity for me to stumble into his arms. We go to sit in the park, but instead of the benches, C. throws his bag to the ground next to a tree, and flops down on the grass. I do the same. We start laughing, quoting cartoons, then take the time to observe the relative quiet despite being only a block or two away from the busy parkway. I can't take it anymore, and turn to kiss him. Thus begins a good hour of makeouts, cuddling, and giggling - all in public. Starting to feel hungry, we begin walking up the parkway back to Center City, and he makes a point of holding my hand. Dinner was lovely. Suddenly it's 10 PM, and we go "Oh, erm, guess we should be going home." We discuss whether to meet again the next day, or over the weekend. While we're waiting for our trains, he grabs a little notebook out of his bag, tells me to close my eyes, and scribbles something. I hear him rip the page out, and reaches over me to put it in my purse. "Don't read it until you're on the way home." His train comes first, he kisses me goodbye, and I start to read the note: "HOLY CRAP! Art museum + you + cuddles + sushi + makeouts = WIN. I can't wait to see you again. C."

My mom picks me up from the train, and immediately turns her nose up at the fact that I had a giant lovebite on the side of my neck. Whoops. Really not good as the next day was college graduation. That next morning, I use a ton of foundation to cover my neck, and try to fashion a scarf around despite it being mid-May and a bit warm for even light scarves. After the ceremony and after I get pictures taken with a friend, my phone goes off from C. wishing me congratulations and that he has a present for me. So obviously we could see each other that evening, time TBD. Later on, he met me on the platform, and you might've thought we hadn't seen each other in MONTHS rather than hours. We get sushi again, and sit up on the mostly-empty 3rd floor of the Gallery mall. He makes me close my eyes once again, and attempts to put something in my hair - it falls and I see that it's an enormous bright-blue flower. More cuddle-fests ensue. He reminds me that he was going to be gone for about 3 weeks to the Southwest for a class trip, so did we want to get together before then?

The next day I had work and he had to start packing for his trip. My co-workers yelled at me about having lovebites: "What are you, 15?!" My retort was continually as follows: "I didn't do this when I was 15! I'm making up for lost time!" Just as I stepped off the train back home, my phone buzzed, with C. saying "I think I'm in <3 w. u". (At the time, I was practically melting...now I think that should've been a sign of problems. But I'm getting ahead of myself.) He messaged me later in the evening to say I should come out to his house the next night (Saturday) for a sleepover, as he was leaving on Sunday.

So Saturday comes - I had work til 5, then C. had called me earlier in the day to say he was going to a Magic tournament (remember that card game? It's STILL AROUND), and wasn't gonna be back til 7:30ish, so could I wait for a later train? Wandered around town for a bit, then got on his train out to the Main Line. Arrived, and we got to his house, running around outside, then watching stuff on Youtube for most of the evening.

Next day, we woke up - immediately starting to make out. And his dad walked in on us (what is this, high school?) During his trip, C. made sure to call me every night, and usually texted at least once during the day. One day at work, I realized I'd turned my phone off - so during lunch, I turned it on, waiting a few minutes to see if a text or voicemail came through. Sure enough, there was a voicemail: an adorable one from C., saying that he was on a roof of somewhere in New Mexico, and just wanted to say that he missed me and while he was enjoying the trip, couldn't wait to be back home.

Another day at work, my dad called to say a postcard had come in from New Mexico with a road runner on it. Before he said anything, I knew who sent it. My dad read the card aloud, much to my chagrin - finally going "OH IT WAS FROM C."

WHAT I LEARNED: I had become a master at flirting (with the right person, of course). Capable of keeping someone's attention even while they're across the country. I had become increasingly comfortable with being, uh, "physical".

NEXT TIME: personal responsibility, outdoor adventures, the idea of sorta-"booty calls" within a relationship.