i want to hold your hand, part 2

In case you missed it, here is part one.

For those who don't want to go through the effort of reading that whole thing, let me recap:

I am awkward. A boy asked me to hold his hand. 

So we held hands.

Today we will be learning about the repercussions of asking a fourteen year old girl if you can hold her hand. 

What I don't think I communicated very well in my last post is the fact that this experience scarred me for life. That was NOT how it was supposed to happen.

Allie, it wasn't even that bad.
But it was. IT WAS. Keep in mind I was fourteen. I was horrified to have been asked for permission. I had the mindset of, "I did my part in giving you the dead-man arm. I clearly communicated I wanted to hold hands. YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO RUIN EVERYTHING AND ASK ME."
[just in case you forgot, here is a perfect example of my PTSD.]

I wanted someone to take initiative. (Little did I know, that would actually happen when somebody unfolded my arms. That is NOT what I meant about taking initiative. Also, that is not today's story.)

this is me and my bff roughly around the time of year this all went down.
for the sake of keeping boy's identity anonymous, I couldn't show my bff's face.
Even though really everyone and their dog knows who this is about.

Fast forward three and a half years. I was a senior in high school, and was crushin' on a relative of a couple of my BFFs. Guys, the bffs always are involved. always. Also, we were in a band together. (this is sort of relevant, but mostly I just wanted to throw out the fact that I was in a band.)

-also, side note. This boy actually reminded me of my husband, hence the reason I liked him. I actually wrote in my journal that he was "a lot like husband, only better*" because he didn't have a crazy ex. (Well, he did... but she didn't want my head on a platter like Husband's crazy ex did.) 

*for the record, at the time I wrote that in my journal, any guy without a crazy ex would have been better than my husband because... have you ever seen the hobbit? It's like, I'm Bilbo. And crazy ex was like Smaug x100000. Except for in this story, Bilbo didn't even go after the treasure. Bilbo and the treasure were just friends. But Smaug wanted Bilbo DESTROYED (desolated, if you will), because the treasure was "hers". (Except for that it wasn't.) and OH MY GOSH this is why my blog is named word vomit.

me vs smaug, respectively
can you believe I slayed that dragon?
Neither can I. 

Word Vomit, guys. Let's all remember the title of this blog and remember that I say what I want. 

Boy and I had established there was a mutual liking going on between the two of us. Or maybe we did the "hey, find out if he thinks I'm cute!" thing. To be honest, I don't remember if we told each other or had other people do it for us. Regardless, it was out there that each of us thought the other was pretty rad.

One day, all the bff's (even the ones not related to boy) decided to have a movie marathon.

What's that? A movie? With a boy I like? We're off to a good start.
Oh, we're watching all three Lord of the Rings extended versions? Even better!
This movie has a lot of war in it too?! You know how well I do watching war movies with boys I like. I hope he asks me to hold his hand during the Battle of Helms Deep.

We sat down, and naturally boy & I sat on the same couch. It wasn't cold by any means, but of course we decided to share a blanket. (You know, so we could hold hands in...secret?)

GUYS. That is the arm rest of the VERY COUCH that this happened on. [please note, this also happens to be leather. what is it with leather and hand holding scenarios? it's just the worst.] (Sorry to have made you a part of this without your permission, K, but this photo was way too important to leave out. You look great, by the way.)

So, there we were. Couch. Blanket. Unfortunately for boy, the blanket was unnecessary because we had no secret hand-holding going on. Boy dropped the hints like crazy. Like, he couldn't have been more obvious if he said, "Hey, I'm really trying to hold your hand. It'd be great if you would just COOPERATE. Aren't we supposed to like each other?"

I used the excuse that my hands were clearly on top of the blanket, when his were under. I was not about to put my hands under the blanket, because... well, really I don't know. I thought it was tacky to hold hands in secret. I mean, I wasn't fourteen anymore. Also, I was just the worst at this whole "I like you" thing.

As hard as he tried, boy never got me to hold his hand under that blanket. Unfortunately for him, apparently I was giving off the, "I'm wearing a chastity glove, STAY AWAY" vibe, so he didn't attempt to hold my hand on top of the blanket. Either that or he just really wanted the whole hand-holding thing to be a secret. 

A few days later, boy "broke up" with me. Really it wasn't breaking up because what were we even doing? Not holding hands, obvi. << I threw that lovely word in there solely because my husband really loves when I say things like that.

And thus ends the epistle of Allie and Boy #2.