Nobody puts baillee in the corner

A long, long time ago, in what feels like a galaxy far, far away, I liked a boy. Let’s call him Andrew. 

The year was 2007. I started my mornings on the way to high school with a Lo-Carb Monster, the ringtone for my pink Slvr knockoff was “There’s a Class For This,” and I thought the inaugural entry of Charlie the Unicorn was the height of comedy (in many ways, I still do). 

I was a sophomore, and Andrew was a freshman. And, for a brief period of time, I think he liked me back. But as I’ve stated, I’m not a mind reader. 

There was a night when we stayed at a friend’s house, a place where we always hung out, and we stayed up late and cuddled and talked and almost kissed…until my friend’s little brother, who was a known sleepwalker, came downstairs. 

Soon after, I had a friend at the time ask Andrew if he liked me. Let’s call her Daisy. Unfortunately, Daisy texted me later that night to tell me Andrew had said he only liked me as a friend. 

I, of course, was GUTTED. But don’t worry, dear readers, that didn’t keep me from liking him off and on for years. Yes, I said years. 

Andrew is the first person who broke my heart in so many ways, but he doesn’t hold all the blame. I placed some unfair expectations on him; this is your friendly reminder that just because you like someone doesn’t mean they have to like you back, nor can you get upset when they date other people. 

However, I will say I believe he did some things to hurt me on purpose. As I’ve mentioned before, this is from my perspective, and I feel like some things were intentional. But again, I could be totally wrong. The only thing I can fully confirm is what happened at prom. 

You see, Andrew and I ran in the same friend group. I had friends that spanned across several groups in high school, but my main circle was a group of (mainly) guys I referred to as the Nerd Herd. They played D&D and video games, and we spent most weekends at one of their houses (to the mom of this friend, I can’t thank you enough for everything you did for me in high school and early college, and I just want you to know that I love you). 

You couldn’t pay me to go back to high school, but I definitely have some memories with this group that still make me smile to this day. I digress. 

I asked Andrew to go to prom with me my junior year, and it didn’t exactly go well. I found out from a mutual friend we’ll call Ian that Andrew planned to ditch me for most of it. The events surrounding the pictures and dinner before, and the promenade, are iffy. I believe Andrew claimed he had planned to do everything but something came up that made him late, but that part’s a little fuzzy. 

Regardless, I do think Ian was just trying to look out for me and didn’t have any malicious intent. I think Andrew was probably going with me to be nice and/or because several of his other friends, who were sophomores, were dating juniors, and he wanted to be with his friends. I can’t prove this part, but it’s just how I read the situation now as an adult. 

The good news is, one of my other friends made it up to me at prom the next year, and I can’t thank him enough for being the best prom date ever. I, yet again, digress. 

The dance of me pining away for him while he dated other girls would go on for far longer than I care to admit. I’m 31-years-old, and despite appearances because I’m writing about someone I liked in high school, I’ve obviously put high school behind me. But, for the sake of honesty, class is back in session. 

I’m not going to bore you with more details of high school, outside of one other story. These years consisted of me liking Andrew, us being nasty to each other at times, wash, rinse, repeat. 

I want to call that one aforementioned story, though. 

Andrew dated a girl in high school that I absolutely adored. Let’s call her Jess. 

One day, I borrowed a hoodie from Andrew because I was cold. Remember how I told you there were details that wouldn’t make me look good? Fortunately, this isn’t one of them. I was sincerely just cold and didn’t have an ulterior motive. 

Later that day, Jess asked if she could talk to me, and I obliged. She wasn’t the kind of girl to start drama, and, looking back, she was clearly one of the most mature high schoolers I’ve ever met. 

Jess asked me when/how long Andrew and I had previously dated, but not in a jealous or interrogative way. I was shocked, and I told her we had never dated. She then proceeded to tell me we had a chemistry she and Andrew didn’t, and if I liked him, she hoped he would wise up and ask me out. 

I was mortified, and even though I could tell there wasn’t anything hateful about her observation, I apologized. Jess told me I didn’t have anything to apologize for, gave me a hug, and told me she’d see me later. They broke up shortly after our conversation, and Andrew asked me for his hoodie back. 

To this day, I have no clue if Andrew knows about this conversation, and I hope Jess is doing  well. 

Once I graduated and moved out of our hometown, things didn’t come to an immediate stop. When I came home for Christmas break, there was a time where Andrew brought another girl to a hangout when it was just supposed to be the two of us. I have absolutely no ill will towards this other girl (she’s honestly great), and I can’t really be upset because Andrew and I weren’t dating. That didn’t keep it from shattering my little heart, though (if this story sounds vaguely familiar, it’s the same story I told in the piece I wrote about Speak Now). 

Now, let’s fast forward several years to my mid-20s, where I made a complete ass of myself. I used to have these huge, weekend-long celebrations for my birthday, including karaoke and a house party. Andrew came to the karaoke night, and I was absolutely fucking wasted. 

You see, I was drinking and was extremely unhappy in my life for a myriad of reasons. That’s when I hatched a plan, and one of my friends (who will actually be mentioned in a later entry because he tried to sleep with me) enabled it. 

You already know where this is going. Sigh. 

I was determined to hook up with this man. 

Instead of enjoying the company of an old friend, I decided the better option was to act like an unhinged, drunken asshole. 

I truly regret my actions here because, despite everything, I think Andrew and I could’ve been friends as adults. But my sheer stupidity ruined any chance of that happening, at least that’s what I think. 

Andrew ghosted me after karaoke night, and, when I got hammered the next night at my house party, I texted him an ungodly amount of times. Needless to say, I FULLY understand why we haven’t spoken since. Andrew, if you’re reading this and know this is about you, I’m truly so sorry for my behavior. You didn’t deserve that. 

P.S. Thank you again for the Rocky Horror Picture Show posters, I still have them in my apartment to this day. 

This entry is a complex one because there are so many factors at play: 

1. We were both teenagers. 
2. We weren’t dating, so he didn’t owe me anything. 
3. He did treat me like dirt at times, but I also could be a real peach. 

Looking back, there are so many things I would’ve done differently. I wish I would’ve had the guts to ask him if he liked me myself. I probably would’ve reconsidered asking him to prom. I would’ve told myself to CHILL.

But I was also a closeted kid who was living with an abusive parent trying to navigate through the nuances of high school in a small town. I think there are times I did the best I could while there are other times I absolutely could’ve done better. 

If you think I learned my lesson after Andrew, buckle up, dear readers. Love is a Working Title is only getting started.