Letters With Boys

Bridget's Journal, Week 7 - October

October 26th

Dear Stupid Diary,

I will never not find this stupid, so get used to hearing about it.

Last week was pretty uneventful, as they all are. It’s strange, really, how I’m probably the busiest girl on campus, yet still the most bored. No matter how much focus I put into the clubs and the activities and the schoolwork and the whole, nine yards, I never really escape the frustration of knowing that I’m living an unsatisfied life.

Not that there’s anything to be done about it.

You hear stories or watch TV shows about these closeted girls who still find ways to fool around with other girls, in secret. I think maybe that’s more common in college—something to look forward to—or at more normal, less stuffy and expensive, private schools. Not at Alexandria, though. No one at Alexandria has come out since I’ve been here.

Which is pretty eyebrow-raising, since they say 1 in 10 people are gay. Which means 1 in 10 girls here are lying. And I’m one of them.

I did have one of those experiences once. Just once. And it wasn’t really like it is in the movies. We had gone to see Tally's brother at NYU, and we were at a college party, and I got drunk, and this girl started dancing with me, and I thought, what’s the harm in dancing with her? I dance with Tally and Mem all the time. 

Only, this girl was really sexy—like really sexy—and I think maybe my hands did just a tiny bit more exploring than they do when I dance with the girls, or maybe I took the grinding a little far, or maybe this girl just knew, you know, that I was gay. They do say some people have radars for that kind of thing, though I never really bought it.

Whatever the reason, she kissed me. Right there on the dance floor, while we were dancing, she kissed me.

I let it happen for what I remember as ten seconds, but in reality was probably more like five. I didn’t just let it happen, though—I really kissed her.

And then I panicked, and I pulled away from her, and she just knew, with one look at me, that I was closeted.

There was sympathy in her eyes for a second, but then there was annoyance. “Come find me when you’re out of the closet,” she said a little dryly, and then she sauntered off.

I stood there for several seconds, everyone grinding and dancing all around me, praying that no one saw and surprised to find that no one did seem to see, until Memphis bounced up to me with a sort of knowing grin on her face.

“That was hot,” she told me cheerfully. “Girls are such better kissers than guys, aren’t they?”

Memphis, you see, considers herself a “free spirit.” She’s straight—at least, she’s like ninety-five percent straight—but she’s kissed far more girls than I have. Usually straight girls who, like her, just aren’t afraid of anything.

So I think she just assumed that I, like her, was “having fun” but not “actually gay.”

Just to be safe, I kissed two different boys that same night.  

So, like I said, not exactly like how it is in the movies.

Love,

Me

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October 27th

Hello again.

I guess I forgot to explain yesterday exactly why I was sad—just went off on sort of a tangent about that stupid girl from the stupid party. (God, she was hot.)

I’m sad because of this talk about therapy we all had on Sunday.

There’s no doubt in my mind that both Mem and Tally need it, and I’m happy that it seems likely they’re both actually going to get it. But no one seemed particularly concerned with me getting it.

Don’t get me wrong—I don’t want them to be concerned. I don’t want them to think I need therapy at all. I’ve been living this lie all my life for a reason: to seem perfect, despite being anything but.

Thing is, I do need therapy, and I’m never going to get it, and I’m just kind of depressed about that now.

At least Tally’s birthday is this weekend. That’s always fun. Even if both the girls are going to be paired up and I’m going to be all by myself, as usual.

Maybe I could find myself a boyfriend, too, but then I might just jump off a cliff.

Love,

The Miserable Liar

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October 28th

Dear Diary,

Things got a little dark the past two days. I’m going to try to be a little less depressed in these next few journal entries. Maybe that will help me not be a miserable b***h at Tally’s party on Saturday.

The girls seem really happy, so that’s good. In some ways, I can’t believe how perfect for them these guys are. I mean, obviously I’d rather Mem be with someone who doesn’t have a fighting problem and (probably) a criminal record, but I’ve long accepted that she’ll never be with a “sweet boy” like Matt again, and I get it. Frankly, I don’t think she was ever meant to be with someone like Matt; I think she was just trying to cause as few waves as possible because of her brother.

Anyway, despite his issues, I like Gray. He’s funny, sexy, and crazy about Mem.

(I’m allowed to call guys sexy, okay, I have eyes. I just don’t actually want to jump their bones.)

I like Kai, too—so much, I probably would have gone and done something stupid like make him my fake boyfriend to keep up the ruse, if I hadn’t set him up with Tally. I think that’s why I did it—got them together in sort of a rush—pushed to have them be pen pals despite the fact that I liked having him as mine. I didn’t want to f**k with Kai’s head, because he deserves better than a fake, lesbian girlfriend.

Also, he’s clearly perfect for Tally. It’s not just the sports, either; it’s their sweet temperaments, their innocence, and their class.

I can’t wait for college.

Love,

Me

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October 30th

Dearest Diary,

Sorry for not writing yesterday. The local dog rescue organization had an event at the local pet store, and obviously we considered that more important than class, so I spent third period snuggling puppies instead of writing journal entries.

(Tally and Mem didn’t miss a beat with their letters, by the way. Wrote them at lunch and got them to the courier in time. They have never cared this much about English class until now, go figure.)

Anyway, the puppies were mostly fun, a little sad. Tally found a little Beagle mix that she instantly wanted to take home. She even called her mom to ask for permission. Her mom, of course, said yes; her mom always says yes. But then I reminded her that she’s only going to be at home for less than a year, and that she won't be able to take the dog to college with her, and does anyone else in her family actually want a dog? So, reluctantly, she put him back.

And then I felt like a real asshole.

Mem found one she liked, too—a scrappy, feisty little black pit mix who pretty much was Gray if Gray was a dog. She denied that when I said it, of course, but then asked us if we thought it would be a good idea for Todd to have a dog, you know, for therapy.

Tally thought it was a good idea, but I gently told her that, no, it wouldn’t be a good idea for Todd. He isn’t good with boundaries, which means he might upset the dog, and the last thing we need is Todd getting hurt.

And then I felt like a real asshole all over again.

Anyway, we left the place empty-handed, and a little depressed, despite the fact that petting dogs is supposed to make you happy.

But at least we have the party tomorrow.

Love,

Me