There’s a rush you get when a boy you like texts you. You feel your whole body light up.
He texts, “I want to see you.”
You need more. You calm yourself and further probe. You have to find out what this is really about.
“Is there any reason you want to see me tonight?,” you text back.
He says, “because I want to kiss you.”
This is news.
Even though you are on your way to bible study to talk about the straight and narrow, there is nothing more that you want to do than run home and meet this boy, who after several dates, has declared that he finally wants to kiss you.
So, after bible study, you say your good-byes, and run from Belmont Street north along the Lakefront. That nicely rounds out a 7 mile run.
You keep running. Your phone beeps.
“Two stops away,” he texted.
I was nearly a mile run away. I sped up.
“I can make it. I can make it,” I repeated to myself.
I dashed into my building, up my elevator, and took a minute shower. I threw on something and slowly breathed to lessen the intensity of my red face.
As I got out of the elevator, there he was, waiting outside of my building with a bottle of wine.
We started out the evening as we always did, “Hi, how are you?” There was no mention of the previous correspondence.
We opened the bottle and went on to talk about our day and hours later when he went to leave, it was in that moment—despite our history, despite the intention of pursuit—that I knew he was officially in the friend zone.