The braces had been off for a few years. The bad perm had grown out. The bangs were gone. The shirts no longer buttoned all the way to the collar. And once or twice, I’m quite sure an actual boy looked in my direction…no longer chuckling. Once I realized this was the case, I kind of, well, enjoyed the attention…welcomed it, embraced it if you will. At some point, this attention became an innocent game. Kiss the Boy was recorded in chronological order on page something or other of my journal…just names. Though I did have a friend who had dates and a coding system for how many times a particular notch was repeated. There was no prize to be won, just notches on the belt. Many of the “notches” I really liked. Others were just, a notch. This particular Soap Opera begins there…with a notch. We’ll call this notch Peter Pan, ambiguously gay for enjoying his tights and tattered shirt dress a little too much. Wendy was a cover I swear.

Peter and I were hanging out with some mutual friends and if my memory serves me correctly, we were discussing romantic kiss scenarios. Cheesy right? It was kind of like playing Truth or Dare because you KNEW where that was going to go. So we discussed romantic kiss scenarios, and I, being the innocent 17 year-old that I was, hopelessly romantic in every way, looked outside and noticed how perfectly magical it was outside. A light rain was falling quietly in the dark, which made everything shimmery and reflective in the street lights. Peter must have seen my averted gaze and noticed the rain as well. Being older and much more experienced in these matters, he matter-of-factly suggested we go kiss in the rain. I jumped up a little too eagerly I’m sure, forgetting that this was Peter we were talking about. Charming, tall, elfishly cute, but ambiguously gay..not just effeminate. Oh well, his name would fit perfectly in the last bit of space at the bottom of my journal page…and, it would be kind of romantic to kiss in the rain. We ran across the street to an empty sidewalk, stepped underneath the glow of street lamp, he pulled me to him and we kissed. How unremarkable it was is evidenced by the fact that I have NO idea how it ended. I’m quite sure there were no butterflies in the belly, and I seem to recall my neck hurting. Perhaps a little shorter would have suited me.

Now friends, as anti-climatic as this is, it is not the end. Oh no. It is not necessarily the rain, or the street lamp, or the ambiguity of my friend’s orientation that makes this SOS worthy. Oh no. Part of the Soap Opera is in the fact that no more than two weeks later, he came out. No more ambiguity. He was quite ready to be gay. I was teased for quite some time as being the one who made Peter decide he liked boys better. I told myself in jest it was because he knew he would never find another girl like me and moved on to try out the other gender.

Whatever his reason, it didn’t matter. He was still funny and charming and elfishly cute and now on my List.

Fast forward a few years. College. First day of acting class. Not a single cute boy in the bunch. But wait, the door is opening, the girls heads turn to see if it might be someone who would make the semester worthwhile…Perfect. We’ll call him Nate…