Young Writers Society

Joy was in love with him. Blake, with his fair blonde hair and broad shoulders. Blake, the smart sensitive boy who read Kerouac and listened to The Flaming Lips. Yes, this was the one. This was the one she would give her heart to, for better or for worse. She didn’t care. In her eyes, he could do no wrong.

He’d gone out with a girl before. Her name was Rebecca and she was a fat cow who perspired under the arms and rambled about things no one cared about. Their relationship didn’t last long – three months later, Rebecca came to school with black purple marks on her wrist and tears streaming from swollen eyes. Joy remembered laughing with her friends at how pathetic the bitch looked without an attractive boyfriend to parade around. Then again, she had always looked pathetic; fat girls have no choice.

Joy became attracted to Blake early freshman year. He was drinking from the water fountain when Joy clumsily bumped his side. Liquid pouring down his chin, Blake gave her a dirty look and turned away with a huff. Bright sunlight filtered through the window and cast an evanescent glow on his masculine frame, which he rotated so every muscular ripple pressed against the fabric of his Hollister T-shirt and revealed the man within the teenager. One further glimpse of his perfectly formed eyelashes might have caused Joy to collapse in ecstasy. She felt no shame later that night when she laid on her pink-ruffled, four-poster “princess” bed and masturbated quickly, aggressively, once, twice, three times until she fell asleep exhausted.

Three years later, they were together and enjoying a companionable relationship. They held hands, kissed in public, and went over to each other’s houses frequently to do homework. Yet after three weeks of dating, they had not engaged in explicit sexual activity – most couples in the school graduated at least to handjobs by this time. Neither of them seemed willing to initiate this important next step, content merely to press their moist lips against each other (a slither of tongue if deserved) and diligently study their Calculus textbooks. Of course, it was awkward and perhaps a little embarrassing to both parties when Joy would reach across Blake’s crotch to get a pencil and discover he had an erection.

The truth of the matter was Joy had little experience when it came to sex and unlike other guys, Blake didn’t pressure her. Though the only other guy she had dated was a pre-pubescent nerd named Larry who weighed 180 pounds and watched excessive amounts of Internet porn. They never even kissed. She felt terribly insecure about her body. She had never been naked in front of anybody besides her mother. Clearly Blake was attracted to her even without seeing her naked – otherwise, they wouldn’t have lasted this long. But her thoughts were tortured day in and day out by the fact that he might be disgusted by her small breasts and pale skin and lose all feeling for her, sexual or otherwise.

Then again, he had dated Rebecca.

One afternoon in the thick of a winter snowstorm, the couple found themselves basking in the warm homey comfort of Joy’s room.

“God, I love Lou Reed. His voice is so soothing,” Blake said. He yawned and stretched his arms as the orchestral melody of “Venus in Furs” blared in the background. Joy had never understood the song but Blake insisted it was among the best ever written.

“God, I hate Mrs. Carol. Her homework assignments are so hard.”

“You’re so beautiful,” Blake replied.

This sudden declaration of affection made Joy uncomfortable. “Stop,” she smiled nervously.

“Sometimes I just want to kiss you… all over.”

“You do kiss me.”

“You know what I mean.”

Blake leaned over and placed a stubby hand between Joy’s legs. She recoiled at the sudden invasion of her private space. “No, actually I don’t. What are you doing?

He looked at her as if she was from a different planet, narrowing his eyes so only slits showed. “What’s wrong, Joy? Don’t you want to?”

“Want to what?”

“Do it.”

“There’s no time. We have to study. Mrs. Carol said this was going to the hardest test of the semester.” Joy pointed futilely at the books, calculators, and pencils sprawled around them.

“Come on, we have the whole night to do that. Let’s take a break.”

“Blake, I don’t want to.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I just don’t feel like it right now.”

“Well, when do you feel like it? We’ve been going out for three weeks.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“I just thought that by now you’d be at least a little interested in me.”

Joy could a feel a slight draft coming from her window. She contemplated shutting it but decided getting up would be too awkward. She just wanted to sit there with her legs crossed, turning redder and redder, hoping Blake didn’t notice how uncomfortable she was.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. If you don’t feel like studying, maybe you should just leave.”

“It’s fucking four o’clock,” Blake snapped. “I’m leaving.”

He gathered his books and stormed out of the room. He’d never been this angry before, at least towards her. In their three weeks of dating, he’d never been anything less than kind and considerate. Be strong, Joy thought, you did the right thing. She wasn’t ready and he should understand that, even if it took three months. Everybody goes their own pace. You did the right thing. She put her head in her hands and began to cry.

Shortly after the incident, Blake stopped calling. He seemed to be doing everything he could to ignore her. When Joy tried to confront him in Calculus class, he simply turned the other direction. Her friends gossiped behind her back: “I hear they never even made out.” “How could she be such a bitch?” “I feel so sorry for Blake.” It was enough to make her sick. Her parents kept telling her it was going to be okay. But she knew it wasn’t.