let's hear it for boys pt 1.

A long, long time ago I moved to Provo, Utah and I had no friends. As luck would have it, I moved into a really pretty ward (and those of you 14th ward alums [which I'm pretty certain ISN'T a word-far too lazy to google and that Gilmore Girls episode certainly didn't clear up the alumni/alumnus/alumna confusion] can't deny it). Being the new, unpopular, mediocre looking 15 year old with bad teeth in a ward full of popular, gorgeous girls with perfect smiles is a bit trying on your self-esteem. School began and I still didn't have friends. These days I try to explain to friends that I was indeed a loner in high school, that I dreaded the lunch hour because I didn't have a car, I didn't have friends, and I didn't have a place to go. I would often take my merry little time walking out of Miss Mackay's AP Government class, while everyone rushed to the Commons to meet up with their buddies to go off and get some dollar item at Wendy's. I'd dawdle, pretend I couldn't get my locker open, use the bathroom, find something to eat, find some corner...but most of all I just wanted to have someone to talk to.

Oh, I had a few kind souls that took pity on me here or there, but the friendships never really lasted. I just didn't fit into any one circle of friends. Sophomore year is a tough time to be new. Everyone transformed from the middle school cliques during freshman year into cliques that were essentially sustained throughout their high school experience. Getting into one once established isn't easy. I was enough of a lot of things, but it seems that extremes are necessary for social stigmatizing.

Smart, yes, but not a defining characteristic.
Skinny, yes, but also without boobs {some things never change}.
Multi-talented, but in the wrong high school for musical gifts.
Nice, but a little socially awkward.

And then there was the long list of superficial evidence.

Bad hair. Bad fashion. Bad teeth. Bad skin color (to this day I'm amazed at the bronzing abilities Timpview girls possess). Bad family. Bad house. Bad makeup. Bad social skills.

So I bounced. And bounced some more. I ended up in a group of girls for a while, but that turned awry. I had a few other friends for a little while, but never felt as though I belonged. Finally I met my dear friend Becky, but as luck would have it, she went to another school. Afternoons were full of bad reality shows, Ovaltine on ice cream, and those strange organic bean burritos we'd layer with cheddar cheese while I talked on and on about Z, J, or G (you'd think after all of these years I could use their names...but I guess I'm still too shy), the boys I remained madly in love with despite my invisibility. She would talk about her Alex and while he and I eventually became lunch friends, joining in with the Wendy's dollar menu craze in his rusty red Subaru, I was always the third wheel. Besides, it was a bit interesting being Becky's best friend. The conversations usually transpired as such:

Person I long to be friends with: Becky Higginson's your best friend, isn't she?
Me, knowing full well what's coming: Yes....
Person who remains far too cool: OHMYGOSH she is SOOOOO pretty.
Me, with fake enthusiasm: Oh I know, she is so gorgeous.

Don't get me wrong. I love Becky and she remains one of my dearest friends, but in those days she represented everything that I wasn't. And at 15, life is pretty transparent. All you want (even if you deny it) is to be pretty, popular, and have a cute boy interested in you. That described her, and I was the tag-along.

But this isn't supposed to be a story full of pity.

After that frustrating first year in Utah, I had an amazing summer because I somehow had bounced enough, that I bounced into a great group of friends.

And thus began my long-standing history of being "one of the guys".


.......more to come.