My classmate and I were two of the only seniors in the room, and definitely the only “weirdo” seniors. Everyone else was normal in the bad way, where normality is defined and strengthened by a dislike of abnormal. We hit it off pretty well.
After about a week, he asked if I had a boyfriend. Dating’s pretty high on the list of things I’m apathetic about right now, so I told him no.
“Do you want one?”
“Not really.”
“Okay.” Teenage dating norms must be even more fucked-up than I knew, because he actually felt the need to ask, “We can still, you know, talk, and stuff, right?”
I told him that no, turning someone down for a date does not necessarily mean the end of all interaction, and then… that was it. Conversation moved on to irritating siblings, to music, to politics. My creep-dar didn’t go off once.
And I shouldn’t be so relieved about it. This scenario should be routine; it shouldn’t be out of the ordinary at all for a guy to take no for an answer graciously. Instead, my friends complain about exes who call and call them, boys who touch and hug them after hearing that it makes them uncomfortable, guys who never outright make a move but who ogle and make comments, without ever realizing how inappropriate it is. Bring it up, and you’re overanalyzing, overreacting. Leave it be, and you’re telling creeps that being creepy is okay, and you’re telling the people they creep on that they don’t matter.
This guy I know is doing it right. That’s good. What’s bad is that so many more of the kids I go to school with aren’t. Because these kids are going to grow up into adults, and these adults will teach the next generation of kids, and the world turns ever ’round.
