Hello and happy Thursday. No, I didn’t like the Beach Boys then, I don’t like them now, and I’m pretty sure that wasn’t actually something the guy said, but we’ll go with it, okay? Today I’m going to tell you about one of my first approaches to guys, so I’m talking way back. I feel like recently I’ve told you a lot about my current guy situation (nonexistent, but still trying, thank you) and I think it’s important to go back and see how it all began. Let’s get started, shall we?
Now, Beach Boy here wasn’t my first crush. I’d already experienced what it meant to like a guy. You see, girls from my school used to hang out with guys from a boys school. It wasn’t a general rule, and the boys school wasn’t always the same, but I guess this was a not-so-subtle way to ensure that we could hang out with people from the opposite sex. My first crush, and several others after that one, was a part of that group of friends.
Beach Boy belonged to another school, a school that had actually arranged an “exchange” with mine so that, you know, girls and boys could meet. It was as unnatural as it sounds, of course. We went to this country club and the guys were already there. It was cold, and I think this was intentional, so that we could all have many layers of clothing. The psychologists from both schools had activities prepared for us, including, I kid you not, a speed-dating kind of thing.
Basically, we were given a set of questions that were numbered. Each girl had a particular order, which matched a boy’s set. The idea was that each time we had to look for our match to answer and discuss the question. In retrospect, this was kind of cute, trying to get us to talk and get to know each other.
My awkward self kept sticking to the questions, but there’s only so much you can say about how you spend your weekends, right? After a few failed attempts, I was paired with Beach Boy, a blonde, kinda scrawny guy who was probably my same height or a bit taller, and who asked me the question that would make me fall for him.
“What’s your guilty pleasure?” He asked, and I was done. He actually said it in Spanglish, because the Spanish translation of “guilty pleasure” sounds like something totally wrong, and not something fun. If somebody asked me that question now, I’d probably swipe left and block them, but we were 14 or 15, and these were other times, at least for me. He proceeded to explain/answer. “My guilty pleasure are the Beach Boys. Have you heard of them?” Of course, I nodded my head, and said that I indeed liked them.
That afternoon, I Googled the Beach Boys and realized that oh, no, I did not like them, and that I could stick to my guilty pleasure: the Jonas Brothers. I think that was the first and only time I saw Beach Boy. I didn’t add him on Facebook, or maybe I did and he rejected my request (hey, it happens). The year after we met, I found out he was dating a very obnoxious Model UN delegate, and I felt kind of heartbroken, not only because he was taken but also because her type was nothing like me.
So, yes, this is the story of how I found out what “guilty pleasure” meant, and also how I started lying to boys for them to like me. Okay, I’m kidding with the latter, sort of. In the comments, tell me about a time when you sort of lied to impress a guy.
Love, Miss Camila