Kyle: A somewhat true story about seemingly idiotic teenaged affections

It’s easiest to explain it in this way: She got around.

As he told me this information, I found it difficult to stifle my laughter. I had to ask him if he was joking, to which he replied “No, man. I dunno what it is. She sits in front of me in English and I can’t help but stare at the back of her blonde head and feel in my heart that I’m supposed to care about her.”

“Well, yeah Kyle. She’s a person, we’re supposed to care about people. But that doesn’t mean that you have to fall in love with her” I replied.

With both conviction and impatience he explained to me that I didn’t quite understand what he was saying: “You don’t get it, Darin. Like, I know she’s ‘that girl’ or whatever, and that this is probably just a stupid crush, but, I dunno…” and then he said those words which mean so much but are often looked at as naive and meaningless “…I’ve just never felt like this before.”

“Dude, you sound ridiculous. Have you even talked to this girl?” I asked.

“Of course I have. We sometimes talk about that stupid book we’re reading in English” he replied.

“1984” I confirmed. “Orwell was a little off on the timing of that one. But Big Brother will show up one day.”

Kyle’s frustrations with my lethargy and disinterest became all too clear when he hit me in the shoulder. But that conversation will forever stand in my memory as a pivotal moment in our young lives. See, Kyle’s affections didn’t go away as I had predicted. In fact, they increased. Almost to the point of obsession.

Not quite an obsession.

But close.

Chapter 2: The Mistake.

A few days after Kyle confessed his crush on the girl of questionable reputation (also a few days closer to my birthday), he burst into my house (yet again, unannounced) and proclaimed “I think I just made a huge mistake!”

My father ignored this statement as he was always thinking that Kyle was making mistakes. Kyle didn’t always draw the best attention to himself in my home. See, though he was of the upmost character, he was a bit overdramatic, impulsive, and energetic. To further my father’s preference for other friends, Kyle was known for only having one volume. Unfortunately, that volume was loud.

In spite of numerous attempts on Kyle’s part to strengthen the relationship between himself and my father, they were always met with a certain disregard which stems from a classic incident involving Kyle, my cat Preppy, and a weed-whacker.

But that’s a story for another time.

Kyle’s proclamation of his misstep drew my attention quicker than a weed-whacker in the hands of an adolescent boy to a cat. “What did you do, Kyle?” I inquired. His eyes drifted to the roof as he explained in one breath “I think I invited Fay to Youth Group this Friday” (Fay being that certain girl with that certain reputation I certainly told you about).

“Well that’s not so bad” I commented.

“No, you’re right. It wouldn’t be so bad. Except that she said ‘Yes’” he responded.

“Ok, now, I’m not sure of how all this works and I’m not very experienced with women…” (This fact is and was completely false. I was using a tactic of humour known as Sarcasm. See, I did know how it worked and I had much experience with girls. It’s no secret that I was quite the ladies’ man in my day) “…but aren’t you supposed to be happy if the girl says ‘Yes’ when you invite her somewhere?” I asked.

“Yeah, no. I know. But…” he stammered. “It’s just that I forgot that tonight wasn’t an event night. It’s a service night. We’re just singing songs and listening to Pastor Doug! She’s going to think it’s so boring!”