But this little anecdote is actually about as far from the plot of Comedy of Errors as it's possible to get. It's more along the lines of. . .Comedy of This One Guy Asked Me To Homecoming After Knowing Me For Less Than Twenty Four Hours; Or, I Didn't Even Know His Name.
Which is not a pithy title, and would not have been a hit in Shakespeare's day. Or in ours, for that matter.
Let's travel back to my Junior year of high school, which is the farthest back into my high school career that we've gone! We'll be returning there for a post about a very important and amazing play I was in--the highest on my list of all the plays I've been in. Period.
Anyway. So. It was fairly early on in the beginning of the school year; I know this because homecoming usually takes place in what--September? Early October? It's been a long time since I was in high school, and caring about social events like dances weren't things that I did until I was a senior and was in Student Government. Then it became an obligation to care.
I was finishing up my school day with one last class (acting) and getting ready to go to after-school seminary. One of my classmates, a girl a year younger than I was, had brought her brother with her as a "shadow." In Charter -School speak, "shadows" are people who follow students around figuring out if the school is somewhere they want to attend. This young woman's brother was actually a senior, so if he chose to come to our school he would be transferring for the rest of the year. He was introduced to me by his sister at the beginning of the class, so I smiled at him; because I'm a friendly person, shook his hand, sat down, and thought nothing of it.
Apparently the first wrong move I made there was "smiling," because he gave me a look that can be best illustrated by the Looney Tunes. In fact, everything is best illustrated by the Looney Tunes. Basically, think this:
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It'd be funnier if I was exaggerating. But remember, this was Me in High School, and Me in High School was even worse at deciphering flirting than Me of the Present is. So his look of sudden admiration was lost on me.
I didn't look at him or speak to him during the entire class. After class, he walked up to me and made some sort of joke, which was completely lost on me because of the naturally exuberant chatter of high school students who are free for the day. So I nodded, and smiled again, and walked out of the classroom. He followed me, talking to me. I could not for the life of me understand why he was tailing me, so I was walking pretty quickly because I wanted to run into someone--anyone--I knew, and shake him off my trail.
Him: Are you going to seminary?
Me: Yeah, do you need me to show you where the building is or something?
Him: Oh, no. My sister will do that.
Me (suddenly distracted by the presence of the guy I had a crush on a ways down the hall): Hmm.
Him: So are you dating anyone?
Me: Uh, no. Not at present.
Him: Oh! Really! A pretty girl like you? Well, that's good news for me, because--
He just kept talking, and I just kept walking, but I sort of stopped listening to what he was saying, because, I don't know, I was thinking about rehearsal and also that guy I liked who had just appeared in the hallway and was chatting with his friends, looking all cool and handsome, and also homework that I had to do. But I resurfaced round about here:
Him: And you make me feel feelings that I haven't felt in a year.
Me: Wait. What???!?!??!
(see, sometimes I do have appropriate responses to people saying things that come out of nowhere.)
Him: I was in love with someone a year ago, and looking at you makes me have those feelings again.
Me (Inwardly panicking): Uhhhh...well...uhhhh...(trying to change the subject) So do you like the school?
Him: Yeah. I'm thinking of transferring here, especially if it means I get to see your beautiful face everyday.
Me (floundering): Uhhh...bathroom. I've got to go to the bathroom. Bye.
Him: Ok! See you at seminary!
I dashed into the sketchy high school women's restroom, freaking out for several reasons, not the least of which was the fact that some guy whose name I could not even remember had basically just professed love for me after meeting me an hour earlier. Now, I'm occasionally a romantic; and I was much more of a romantic then than I am now, but I've never been that much of a romantic that I believe in love that occurs on sight. Attraction, maybe. Lust, maybe. Love? You'd have been hard pressed to convince me. Even harder pressed to convince me now.
I waited about ten minutes so that I would avoid pre-class chatter and any more uncomfortable conversations, and then I walked over and found a seat as far away as possible from this guy, happier than ever that I had to leave early for rehearsal (I was always Rehearsing after school, those days).Which I did. Probably far too early.
I got home that night and nearly cried tears of frustration. I had no idea how to handle this situation with tact, or how to let this guy down gently, or do anything besides hide and run. I was mostly just grateful that I wouldn't have to run into him at school the next day, because shadowing generally is a one-day kind of thing.
Yeah. I was wrong. The extent of my wrongness would become evident the next morning.
The scene: a young high school girl with long, curly hair walks into the hallway where her locker is kept. She opens her locker, deposits a few things, and closes it. Turns around. Nearly runs into a guy in a button-up shirt who is giving her googly eyes. She looks incredibly uncomfortable in response, like she's seriously considering wedging herself into one of the ridiculously thin lockers and staying there.
Him: Hey, Hilary. Can I talk to you for a second.
Me: Uh... (she looks around frantically, sees no out. Looks at this guy, realizes she still doesn't know his name). Sure.
Him: I know I've only known you for a day, but--
Me: Um.
Him: But would you like to go to homecoming with me?
Me: Um. Well, I uh, I barely know you, and I actually have plans for that day. Birthday plans. So, uh--I'm sorry? But no.
Him: Oh, that's okay.
Me: Well, I've got to go to class--Hey, look--(shouts a name of a friend and catches up to her)!
And as luck would have it, and when I say luck I mean whatever the opposite of luck is--cruel serendipity?--he followed me to that class because he was shadowing his sister, and his sister was in my first performing arts class of the day.
I carried out the rest of my day, purposefully avoiding open spaces and the hallway where most of my performing arts classes (and therefore the performing art students) spent their lunch periods. I made it all the way through the end of my day without seeing him, and I was so close to being free. I was pretty proud of myself. As I was walking across the lobby towards the arts hall, I heard him call my name, so I started skip-running. Like, trying to look carefree but also moving quickly. It's as effective and as graceful as it sounds.
He caught up to me, of course.
Him: Why are you running?
Me: Uh...Impulse? Just felt like running.
Him: Ha, you're so cute.
Me: No, no, I'm not, I'm really not.
Him: Yes you are. Hey, so I have a question--
Me (frantically waving): Hey! Josh!
Him: Could I have your number?
Me: Uh. I don't really like giving out my number.
Him: Do you have a pen and paper? I'll give you my number.
Me: Uh. Yes. Pen. Here. I'm going to go talk to Josh.
So he hovered, about three feet away from me, writing his number down, and I ran up to my friend (and resident guy who teased me about everything in a platonic way) Josh and latched on to him.
Me (muttering): Josh, you have to help me.
Josh: What?
Me: That guy. He wants my number.
Josh (teasing me): You should give it to him.
Me: I met him like 24 hours ago. I DON'T KNOW HIS NAME.
Josh (being a smart-ass and in no way being helpful): Give him your number.
Me: You like him so much? You give him YOUR number.
Josh: No.
So then the guy re-approached me with this piece of paper, and it was all I could do not to make Josh play the role of fake boyfriend, but he already knew I was single, so I knew that would be futile.
Him: Here you go. Maybe we can hang out on Saturday?
Me: Um, maybe.
Josh (opened his mouth to say something)
Me (pinching him to make him not talk)
Him: Well, I've got to go. Talk to you soon, Hilary.
Josh (as soon as he's out of earshot): You should call him.
Me: No.
I opened the note, out of curiosity. He'd written his email, his home phone, his cell phone, and presumably his fax line, and I'm fairly sure he signed it with x's and o's.
Josh: You should call him.
Me: No. I'd sooner be a cat lady.
To illustrate that point, I ripped up the note, threw it in the trash.
Josh: That was mean and uncalled for.
Me: He's freaking me out!
Josh: I still think you should have called him.
Me: Ugh.
I was sixteen. I thought if I ignored the problem, it would just take care of itself and go away (I'm sensing a theme, here), because direct approach was not my strong suit. I hadn't had all that many guys hanging off me, so I'd never really had to be direct and just say no before. So for all you people out there who are like, "Why didn't she just say no to begin with? It would have been nicer!"
You are absolutely correct. It would have been nicer. And this story would be a lot shorter. I wish I had been direct, but I had no practical experience in being direct. I was afraid of being mean, but I was also afraid of getting asked out by a stranger. So I handled the situation the only way I knew how. Which was not the best way. For all you teenage girls out there, if a guy asks you out that you don't like or don't know or both, just tell him you're not interested. You don't have to be mean about it, just be direct. It saves time. And as long as you say it with tact (I'm sorry, I'm really just not interested, nothing personal) it's not that mean. Teenagers are fairly resilient. And if the guy persists and doesn't get the hint, then tactlessness is okay. And if he still persists after you're not just direct but blunt, probably talk to someone in a position of authority, because that's what's called harassment.
Anyway. I actually did tell the guy whose name I forgot straight-up that I wasn't interested the next time he made a move on me. And I felt a lot better for doing so. It took one more dose of directness after that one to get him to back off, so I won't be held accountable for all my mistakes in handling this situation. Which are less than half, because I'm pretty sure if he had been able to read social cues, he would have figured it out on his own in less than ten minutes.
Maybe I'm giving him too much credit. BUT STILL.
And as for me? I've learned to be less passive. In the words of one of my heroines, "I have no pretension whatever to that kind of elegance which consists in tormenting a respectable man."
And I never have, truly. For a long time, I just thought direct honesty was rudeness--I thought subtle hints would do the trick, like saying no to homecoming and saying "uh..." a lot. Also, running away in the middle of a school hallway. I've since learned that it's not and that direct honesty is actually the best policy.
And that's the story of That Guy Who Asked Me To Homecoming After Knowing Me For Less Than Twenty Four Hours.
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