I was sitting and eating dinner this evening, wondering why my version of  Potato Medley Burrito is never as good as it was when he used to make it for me. My mind wandered as I took a sip of my fancy “sparkling orange beverage”.* I stopped and studied the can, only to realize that they have changed the design. I know this because I have kept two cans of Aranciata prominently displayed in my room. And they are distinctly dark blue.

The first can is from my brother.

The second can is from someone who had a crush on me in high school.

Who? you ask.

To this very day, I have no idea.

I received the can of soda during a Valentine’s day fundraiser my junior year in high school. I remember the situation very distinctly: I was sitting in Spanish class, when the delivery came. I fully expected nothing, and it seemed only apropos that the an entire 6-pack of Orange Crush was announced as a gift for a sophomore named Kirsten. She was a petite white woman with a Tiffany  bracelet on all the time–the kind of girl who corrected you on the pronunciation of her name before you even messed it up. “It’s KIR-sten.” Yeah…so 6-pack to Kirsten, and then much to my surprise, “One for you.” What?!

The student handed me a can of Aranciata, as the official Orange Crushes had been exhausted by Kirsten’s gift. I was fine with the substitution–Orange Crush is disgusting.** But at the time I was just baffled by the fact that someone wanted to give me an Orange Crush. I looked at the tag attached. “To: R. From: ________”

Yep. Completely anonymous. And completely unhelpful.

I was completely baffled. In retrospect, this moment fell in a formative point of my understanding of dating:

1. I had never been on a date with a guy, and I wasn’t sure that I wanted to. At the time, it didn’t even cross my mind that I could also date women. Sadly, I missed out on that key concept until later…

2.I didn’t think about dating very much, because it seemed like something everyone else did, but not me. When my mom worked up the courage every once in a while to ask me why I wasn’t dating, I always responded in something along the lines of “I’m too busy with school.” I’m still not entirely sure of how much of that answer was/is true.

3. I honest to god thought that I would never date because I didn’t stand a chance up against the rich, blond-hair, blue eyed, short skirted, bubbly girls that surrounded me in my very rich, very preppy high school. I remember watching as a guy that I secretly hoped to go to prom with asked one of the popular, skinny, twins to the dance. “Oh…yeah, sure!” She giggled when he popped the question. I stood by the lockers and watched this interlude unfold, burning slightly with foolishness for ever thinking he would want to ask me to prom.***

4.I was the girl who spent the entirety of her junior year by herself working alone on a drawing for 8 months, who was never very popular, never got asked to parties, and though I was a pretty damn good dancer, I never once got asked to/for a dance.

5.I only had one person I ever had a for-real crush on. He was in a play with me, and I pined after him everyday for the entire rehearsal period of the play. He was quirky, smart, and had a remarkable way of making you feel like everything you said was the most interesting topic in the universe. We also played opposites in the production, so I had a built in opportunity for frequent interaction and sassy flirting. Not that I took advantage of it….Everyday, I practiced, and I pined. God bless me, I pined. It think it’s still something I do–because I was never quite confident enough to make my attractions known or public. I always sort of felt like I shouldn’t be attracted to people. Anyhow…I pined after this boy, only to find out that he had started dating another girl in the cast—who was stupid! She was thin, white and rich and giggled a lot, and I was devastated. Why oh why did she deserve him? Why did he want her? I thought smart, quirky, awesome people didn’t date stupid people! (Stupid people, of course, being my value judgment. I’m sure she had many lovely qualities.)

Sitting with these memories today, I realize that there’s a lot that came from these early experiences with the awkwardness of crushes and attraction. I’m a little more sure of myself now…and realize someone more interested in aforementioned bubbly girls than me is not worth my time. Thank god I’ve realized that. I still have a tendency to pine, but I think it’s as much because I have had such painful experiences with unwanted advances as it is my bashfulness. Sky hit this type of feeling right on the head in his post.

One of the amazing things that came from this dynamic, however, was the amazing friendships I made with women in high school. Without boys and relationship drama to deal with, I had the most satisfying and amazingly wonderful friendships with a group of like-minded women. I don’t think I would have these friends today if I had been dating. And I don’t think I would be capable of loving–in all capacities–as strongly without those friendships. Love never became something I associated with exclusively with dating. I am grateful for these friendships, and for the experiences of deep, beautiful love I have shared with my friends.

Yet, at times like these, I really wish the person who gave me that Orange Crush would’ve let me know who they were.

As I was combing through my possessions a while ago, I came to the box with the two soda cans in them. To keep or not to keep? I looked at the expiration dates:  3/05 and 6/07.

Certainly not drinkable. But had their sentimental value also expired?

I tenderly placed the cans in the trash bin, wishing I could throw away the complicated emotions with the soda.

~~~

*This product has the coolest packaging ever. The foil seal at the top makes you feel like this soda was preserved specially for you. So that when you finally get this expensive looking beverage in your hands, it appears clean and refined for your enjoyment. I recommend both the orange and the lemon varieties. Very classy. Very tasty.

**To CJL: Hey, remember Fanta Limon? We just can’t do soda right in this country…I understand why you leave all the time.

***For the record, I skipped out on Jr. prom and only went to Sr. prom. I went by myself, sans-date.  I felt fat and ugly, and very out of place amongst all the giggly white couples surrounding me at the get-ready pre-party. My most distinct memory however, was feeling really dumpy and wondering how my booty could be so substantially larger than everyone else’s. Weird, I know.

My biggest motivation for attendance was that I’d managed to teach myself the choreography for Thriller, taught a bunch of my friends, and wanted to bust out in the middle of prom with this killer routine. It wasn’t that glamorus, sadly. They call them fantasies for a reason…