"When are you going to kiss me?"

                                    

                                          
June 29, 1998
                          
I don't know what's wrong. I don't know what's happened with Nathan. I haven't seen him for two days, and normally that wouldn't be too bad, but I can sense that something is very, very wrong. Otherwise I wouldn't miss him so much. Oh, Nathan. If you're listening, if you can read my mind, then please know that I love you and that I would do anything for you and that I want to be with you forever. [Remember: Nathan and I had a telepathic connection.]
                          
Later the same day:
                          
Okay, Nathan called at about 5:30 today, and I asked him what was wrong, why he was acting all moody. He said he didn't know what I was talking about.
                          
I said, "Like at the movies. You were being all quiet and reserved." He said, "Emily! You were being like that. You didn't say one word, the whole time." And I guess I didn't. But I just thought he didn't want to talk to me.
                          
And then he asked, "So, do you want to hang out tomorrow?" "Yes!" I said. Then: "When are you going to kiss me?" I knew I was going out on a limb by asking the question, and I didn't know how he would respond. He said, embarrassed, "I don't know."
                          
I changed the subject to something random, and then out of the blue he said, "Emily, you're semi-stupid sometimes." I wasn't offended. "Semi-" is my favorite word and he uses it a lot because he thinks it's funny. So I knew he was in a joking mood, and I waited for him to continue. [And hey, "semi-stupid" is a step up from being called regular old "stupid," so I'll take it.]
                          
"I'm going out with you, right?" He said. "Yeah." "And I really, really like you, right?" "Yeah." "So how come you're always asking me if I'm going to become gay when I go to Catholic School?" I don't remember what I said. He's so cute! At first I wasn't sure if I wanted to kiss him, but now I know I do.
                          
[It's telling that we apparently took for granted the idea that a boy could "become gay," that we assumed being surrounded by other boys at Catholic school would inspire such a transformation, and that "gay" was just about the worst thing you could call someone.]