Encounters with the opposite sex

Wow, there’s more there than I thought. And yet, so little… This turned out long, sorry. Also, apologies for the disjointed imitation-Bridget Jones style.

Age 3 – according to legend, am rather taken with a boy in my kindy class (not sure how accurate this is, but I think I still remember his face so that may say something) – I think this is the only item on the list that doesn’t make me cringe with embarrassment and shame, although it probably did at the time.

Age 6-9 – live in deathly fear of catching boys germs, strict quarantine measures in place at school ie no touching contaminated persons or objects, separate drink taps (this was so ingrained and unquestioned that I found myself deeply unsettled to discover integration had been achieved by the time my little brother started at the same school)

Age 10 – the arrival of a somewhat effeminate boy in the class. That characteristic, along with a willingness to talk to girls gets him nicknamed Sallyanne. One of my friends was mature enough to talk to him and I found it was kind of exciting and novel and almost grown up to be friends with a boy. He played Joseph to my Mary in the nativity play – we fought over who got to hold the baby and he spent the rest of the mass making me laugh inappropriately during hymns. Merciless teasing from my brother and excruciating patronising from my mother ensue.

Age 11 – Sallyanne having left the school, attempt to befriend new boy. Attempt consists of allowing him to go ahead of me getting out of the pool after swimming lessons, while I pretend to be out of breath/to have dropped my goggles and lasts as long as it takes the person behind to ask scornfully “did you just let him go ahead of you?”

Age 13 – year 8 social with nearby boys’ school. Barely talk other than to dispute capital of somewhat obscure country with boy who turned out to be from said country.

Age 14 – smile nervously in the background as friends chat up the trolley boys at the local shopping centre over the school holidays

Age 14.5 – first school dance. Dance with friends all night. During last song am asked to dance on behalf of another boy. Decline, as friends deem asking by proxy not worthy of positive response. Am confident better offers will arise at future dances.

Age 15-17 – other school dances. Cultivate obliviousness as a means of avoiding both approaches from boys and sympathy on lack of approaches from girls

Age 15 – comment on cuteness of Stephen Dorff on magazine cover. Friends respond incredulously “you like him?” note taken: do not comment on cuteness or lack thereof again.

- dancing lessons with boys’ school. Am unable to make eye contact, let alone small talk.

- End of lessons dance. Most of the class takes the opportunity to get a boyfriend. Teachers attempt to separate couples who get closer than the regulation phone book width apart. I sit at a table trying to look as though I’m having fun.

Age 16 – semi-formal dance. Bring two of brother’s friends as partners for myself and a friend. Am amazingly forward and outgoing and would have actually considered dancing with them as part of the circle, but they refuse. At post-dance party pot-smoking partner of another friend tells me to stay away from drugs. Friend informs me that this is an attempt to hit on me. Am hopeful that will have real partner for formal

Age 17 – formal dance. Go with friend of friend; arranged at last minute via incredibly painful phone call. Barely speak to him, don’t dance with him and wish I’d had the courage to go alone. He goes to post-party; I go to sleepover with fellow dorky girls.

- year 12 social with boys' school. Spend duration of friendly touch football game avoiding the ball. Some people asked why I kept going the wrong way. The ball came near me. They stopped asking.

Age 17.5 – traditional post-graduation beach holiday with same fellow dorks (delayed by a week to allay parental fears of drug and alcohol fuelled orgy/carnage). While sitting on the beach, watch country boys approach, spot us, huddle for oh-so-subtle strategic planning session, spread out in front of us and kick their ball directly at us, thus allowing them a natural opportunity to introduce themselves.

Age 18 – first encounter with a master of Speed Seduction – less than 10 minutes from “do you have the time?” to “you have beautiful eyes”. Panicked autoresponse still set to “my parents won’t let me” from high school. Realise too late that I may need a new excuse now that I’m 18 and at uni. Proceed regardless, creating the impression that my parents are insane conservative cultists. Inability to say no results in admission of phone number. Following 3 days spent willing him not to call; he does. Worse: call answered by my brother. With as few words as possible, convey impression that my ears being sullied by the voice of an unrelated boy will force my parents to perform an honour killing, hence am unable to go to movies.

Age 20 – choir camp (the “this one time, at band choir camp” catch phrase was a boon for publicity officers). Friends befriend visiting boy sharing our dorm. Bizarre half-asleep experience follows his return from drinking games: we were already in bed, he stood around chatting for a bit, while stroking my hair (I was too freaked out to know how to react); may or may not have kissed my forehead.

- meet friend’s ex-bf, think he’s pretty cute, but have heard enough stories to know he’s not for me (as if he’d be interested). Friend tells me he likes me, briefly enjoy feeling as though I could be on Degrassi Junior High before panicking

- friend has birthday party. In attempt to avoid ex-bf, talk to neighbour guy about music. The whole group dances together, everyone but ex-bf vanishes somewhere… Am left to dance with ex-bf – first dance with a guy. It’s nice, apart from the deafening alarm sirens going off in my head. Manage to escape to “get a drink”. Find neighbour guy, start to relax, neighbour guy asks me out, alarm sirens go off even louder. Mutter incoherent autoresponse v2.0 “I’m just so busy with work, school, etc, etc”. Friends abandon me in hopes of pairing up, am left with ex-bf who offers to drive me home. Maintain calm exterior while plotting escape plans. Stop at intersection to wait for lights, despite the fact that it’s 2am and there are clearly no cars. His response: “yeah, friend told me you were Catholic” ???

- get an email from friend saying he asked for my phone number but she wouldn’t give it to him (major brownie points for friend), gives me his number and email address instead (take back some of those points…). Anguish about how to respond, never figure out what to do, eventually realise lack of reply probably got the point across, feel guilty, but then, it’s only me he’s not getting to go out with so he can’t care that much, right?

Age 20.5 – another choir camp. Another amazingly out-of-character outgoing experience. Told people’s fortunes with cards. Actually have conversation with interesting guy! Feel uncomfortable and out of place at end of night when everyone else hugs goodnight. Interesting guy asks my permission to kiss my cheek (kind of sweet although more than a little touch of freaky-choir-guy-ness)

Age 23 – travel in Europe on route to grad school in US.

Stockholm day 1- german guy approaches me in bookshop, continuing failure to learn how to say no results in walking around with him until I make up excuses and run away

Stockholm day 2 – indeterminate nationality guy asks for directions, then to meet the next day. Finally have learned to say no!

Oslo day 1 – Spanish guy attempts to speak to me in Spanish, then French. Sadly his French is worse than mine, but at least it makes running away easier

Oslo day 2 – Norwegian guy attempts to speak to me in Norwegian, then English. Luckily all this practice allows me to escape.

Paris day 1 – attempt to turn requests for the time into conversation foiled

Paris day 2 – French guy says something in passing, foolishly I say “pardonne?” This is taken as an invitation to wander around the city with me. Poor language skills result in me claiming to have a boyfriend I have to go and meet. I run with it, hoping it will be more effective than the imaginary friend I was aiming for, am sadly disappointed. I realise my French skills are not up to conversational standard, but this doesn’t put him off. In between berating me for neither understanding nor having a dictionary he tries to convince me to meet him the next day, then to give him my phone number. Manage to escape after he gives me his number. Accidentally, but not regretfully, lose number.

Present – After years of practice, feigned obliviousness now genuine. No idea how to disconnect some of the alarms in my head so I could talk to a guy without the impulse to flee.