“I see your point, but I’m only sixteen once. I think I’m entitled to have some fun. Sure, it’s nice having a boyfriend, but it’s not like I’m married or anything. I think you and the others take the whole relationship thing too seriously.”
I open my mouth to contradict her, but the stats I know about teen dating flash before my eyes. Teen relationships are unlikely to last into your twenties.
So why do we take our relationships so seriously?
“No offense, but you and Jared acted like a married couple. Rather lame, if you ask me. All you did was get takeout and rent movies. You weren’t as much fun when you were with him.”
“I had fun.” And where did that relationship get me but dumped? “Well, maybe I took it a little too seriously.”
“You sure did. Think of how many opportunities you missed by being all about Jared! You never would’ve met that French guy if you hadn’t broken up when you did, and he was only the beginning. Who knows what else is coming your way? Now is the time to play the field. My mom says I shouldn’t settle down anytime soon.”
I’m not sure that her mom would want her making out with random guys behind Chad’s back, but it makes sense that she wouldn’t want her to get too committed at this age. Mom and Erland had been concerned that Jared and I were getting too serious. Maybe everyone else was far smarter than I was.
“Let’s face it, Kayla. Guys our age are so immature. If we want something permanent, we’ll be disappointed. Chad loves me, sure, but he probably loves his Xbox just as much.”
The more I listen to Amy, the more I understand what she’s saying, and the more disillusioned I become.
Is it a mistake for teens to take their relationships seriously?
I consider this question for the rest of the day, even while I’m watching Glamour Girl with my friends that night. By the time we’re finished, I hurry home to write a blog.
Is Fidelity Pointless for Teens? (In which the Oracle has a crisis of conscience)
Whatever happened to the days of dating for the sake of seeing what’s out there? These days, just dating hardly ever happens among teens. If two people get along and go out more than once, they are usually considered a couple.
In our parents’ generation, it was called going steady, and it was taken seriously, since some people actually got married out of high school. But going steady was usually an agreement that was formalized by one person asking the other: “Do you want to go steady?”
Today, becoming a couple seems to happen automatically, whether you’re ready for it or not. And going out implies that you will be faithful.
Whatever happened to dating to get to know a broad range of people?
The Oracle asks you to consider: is it healthy to bind yourself to one person when you are a teen, even though the odds are low that you will marry your high school crush?
Of course, dating several people at a time can be complicated. If you really like one of your dates, you might only want to be with that person. And that’s the problem here—if you really like someone, you won’t want to see them date other people and you won’t want to yourself.
One reason fidelity is important is that many teens these days are having sex. If you’re having sex, you naturally want your partner to be faithful to you, not least because of the risk of STDs.
So that leads to the question: should teens really be having sex? Shouldn’t they wait until they are older and have more stable, committed relationships?
I think teens should ask themselves if they’re getting too serious too soon and closing off other avenues of opportunity.
Sincerely,
The Oracle of Dating
I post the blog. Then I wait. I have a feeling this will be one of my most controversial blogs yet.
Within ten minutes, I get my first comment.
You don’t know what you’re talking about, Oracle! You don’t sound like a teen, because if you were, you’d know that we can be as faithful and loving as any adults. Probably more! You should stop preaching at us. I bet you’ve never been laid anyway!
—Sheri, Atlanta, GA
She’s right about one thing: I haven’t been laid.
Over the next hour, I get a lot more comments. Obviously the teenmoi controversy really did increase traffic on my site. A debate starts in the comment section on whether teens should be having sex, which is funny considering the blog wasn’t focused on that in the first place.
Although the debate is exciting, it’s past eleven, and time for bed. I’m about to shut down the computer when an IM pops up.
InvisibleBassist: Hi, Kayla. Sorry to bug you this late. I wanted to say I’m sorry for what Chelsea said about Amy. She’s very opinionated.
HelloImAGirl: Did she ask you to apologize to me?
InvisibleBassist: Yeah, after I told her she was out of line.
HelloImAGirl: It’s not a big deal. I have a new perspective on Amy’s cheating anyway.
InvisibleBassist: Really?
HelloImAGirl: Yeah. Why do we assume that teens have to be faithful and stick with one person at a time? I’m starting to think the idea is outdated.
InvisibleBassist: You can’t be serious.
HelloImAGirl: I’ve broadened my perspective. I wrote a blog about it. You should read it.
InvisibleBassist: I will.
HelloImAGirl: Anyway, you can tell Chelsea not to worry.
InvisibleBassist: Cool. BTW Chelsea and I aren’t going out. She’s just a friend.
HelloImAGirl: You don’t need to clarify things for me. It’s none of my business.
InvisibleBassist: Okay. Well, good talking to you.
HelloImAGirl: Bye, Jared.
InvisibleBassist: Bye.
Weird, but when we close the conversation, I don’t feel lost or let down. I actually feel…cool with things.
Could it be that I’m actually getting over him?
I glance at my calendar. According to my rebound equation, I’m supposed to be out of the rebound period as of tomorrow.
I lean back in my chair, a smile on my face.
Cafés—the perfect solution for the unathletic (like me), and for those who can’t afford to shop every weekend because of insufficient cash flow (like me).
Here I am, sitting at the oddly named Coffee Café sipping my latte and realizing that I am by far the youngest person here. An old man is sketching me and it’s weirding me out. I can hardly concentrate on Women Who Run with the Wolves, my attempt at reading something feminist.
Across the room, a bad date is going on. I wonder if they met online. The body language, at least on the guy’s part, is totally standoffish. You don’t need a Desmond Morris book on the human animal to see that. His eyes are wandering over the room and he’s barely doing his part in the conversation. At one point he gets up and doesn’t come back for ten minutes. When he returns, he’s on his cell phone. You can practically see the steam coming out her ears. She says she has to go and quickly leaves—good, leave him in the dust, baby!
There’s a thirtyish guy sitting behind a chess board trying to get someone to play with him. He asks an Arab guy, but his girlfriend doesn’t want to part with him. I’d volunteer, but I’m not very good at chess and wouldn’t be worthy competition.
The old man finishes his sketch and shows it to me. It’s awful, but I tell him it’s good. He smiles, but doesn’t offer to give it to me. He flips the page and starts sketching someone else.
I scan the room. It’s far more interesting observing people than reading this boring book. I study the couples and make a few notes about body language and what it says about a relationship. I’ll have to blog on it sometime.
Uh-oh. My eyes lock with the chess guy. Play? he mouths.
I shake my head. I’m not very good.
Who cares? He waves me over.
Okay, fine. I pick up my stuff and sit on the chair on the opposite side of the chess board.
“What’s your name?”
“Kayla.”
“Josef.” He’s got a strong accent.
“Where are you from, Josef?”
“Romania. You are a student?”
“High school student, yeah.” Just in case he’s wondering if I’m older than I look—just to clarify that I’m not. “What about you?”
“I am an engineer.” He moves his pawn.
I make a move, and then he does. It’s my turn again.
“Are you sure?” he asks.
“Huh?” I’m holding my pawn midair.
He looks down at the board. “Are you sure you want to do that?”
It takes me several seconds to see that I was practically begging his bishop to kill my pawn.
“Oops. I don’t want to do that.”
He smiles. He’s actually not a bad-looking man. If he’d get his eyebrows tweezed, he’d be cute.
I make a good move. I know it’s a good move because he nods approvingly.
He makes another move.
I’m about to move my knight but he gives me a don’t-do-it look so I put it back down and move a pawn. I know I’m supposed to approach the game with a strategy of some sort, but all I can think of is that I’m playing chess in a random café with a random older guy and I hope he doesn’t secretly want to marry me and bring me back to Romania.
Soon I realize this will be a very short game even though he’s helping me. Too bad he believes muttering “Think” will help.
A cute blond guy comes up, smacks Josef on the shoulder and starts speaking to him in another language. I’m taking a wild guess it’s Romanian.
He looks at me curiously. “Sorry to intrude on your game.” He speaks English like he was born here.
“No probs.” I reach up to shake his hand. “I’m Kayla.”
“Mikhail.”
Mikhail. Michaela. It must be destiny!
I can’t help but notice that he is not only very cute but around my age. He pulls up a chair and looks down at the board. “Who’s winning?”
“Him,” I say. “I don’t stand a chance.”
“You are a good learner,” Josef says.
“You’re a good liar.”
We laugh. Mikhail has a loud happy laugh, and it makes me laugh more. I wish I could stay alive in the game longer because Mikhail and I have started getting to know each other. He tells me he’s a junior at MLK high school. “Checkmate.”
I shake Josef’s hand and pick up my stuff.
“Wait—you two can play,” Josef says. “Mikhail is a beginner also.”
I know I should object, since Mikhail obviously came here to play with Josef. But if he’s not objecting…
“Beginner or not, you’ll probably kick my ass, too.” Then I wonder if I should use more refined language with this guy, since I’m trying to impress him.
But Mikhail laughs that great laugh. “We’ll see, won’t we?”
A couple of minutes into the game it becomes obvious that a) Mikhail is not really a beginner and b) Josef has deliberately set us up. I mean, Josef is now reading a book and ignoring us.
As for me, I’m paying far more attention to our conversation than to our chess game, which leads to a self-fulfilling prophecy: he kicks my ass.
I don’t mind. I’m not the kind of person who thinks I’m good at everything, or even most things. What I am good at—advising people on dating and relationship issues—is what I should be using now to figure out how to see Mikhail again.
He declares checkmate.
“I hope you’re not leaving because I kicked your ass.” He’s smiling.
“You kicked it all the way back to Brooklyn, Mikhail.” (Oracle of Dating tip: people love to hear their own name.)
“If you want a rematch, I’ll give you my email.” He scrawls his address on a napkin.
Ding! Ding! Ding!
“I think I’ll be wanting one.” I fold the napkin and put it in my pocket. “Bye.”
I walk out of the café, still hearing the bells in my head.
Ding, ding, ding! Jackpot!
“I did it. I broke up with him.” Staring into her locker mirror, Sharese puts on some lipstick, then turns to me with a glum expression.
“I take it he didn’t react well?”
She gives me a duh look. “At first he said he was going to stop coming to youth group because it would be too painful to see me. That made me feel horrible, so I said I’d leave instead. And he said that was a good idea.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah. He knows I have a lot of friends there, but he doesn’t care.”
“He’s trying to punish you for something that isn’t your fault. You have to tell him you’re not leaving youth group. You’ve been going there longer than he has, right?”
“Kind of. He was in and out of the hospital for years, so he wasn’t there much. I can’t use that as an argument, can I?”
“I guess not. What about staying away for a few weeks, then going back?”
“By then, the damage will be done. Zink’s going to bad-mouth me to everyone.”
“You think so?”
“I know so. I’ve heard the way he disses people. He can be vicious when he wants to be.”
“You could talk to your minister and ask his advice.”
“What’s the point? I already said I’d leave the group. I doubt Zink would let me break my promise.”
“You were under duress. Zink is a manipulator, heart transplant survivor or not. I think you should stand up to him. Show up at the next meeting.”
Hi, Mikhail,
How are you? I’ve been busy with the usual: friends, homework, reading Chess for Dummies. How’s your week been so far?
Kayla
Dear Kayla,
It’s good to hear from you! My week’s been a little crazy. I could write all the details here or we could meet for dinner Friday?
M.
Hi, M.,
Dinner sounds good. Call me to make a plan. 555-2425.
K.
Mikhail is a true Romanian gentleman, opening the door for me as we enter the restaurant. He’s all confidence. If I were as good-looking as he is, I might be, too.
Not that I’m down on my looks. I’d rate myself somewhere between a seven and an eight-and-a-half, depending on lighting conditions and environmental factors. Tonight I’m wearing a turquoise sweater, a color that, I hope, cranks me up to a solid eight.
The hostess seats us. Mikhail gives me the choice booth seat while taking the hard-backed chair for himself.
We order sodas. The waitress leaves and there are a few beats of silence as we think of what to say.
“Have you been working on your chess?” he asks.
“Not so much. I’m not ready for that rematch just yet.”
“So tonight’s about checking out the competition?” He grins.
“Something like that.” I grin back. “Anyway, you said you had a crazy week?”
“Yeah, two tests, plus four shifts at work.”
“Where do you work?”
He bites his lip. “Can I tell you at the end of the date? I don’t want to blow it with you, and girls don’t react well when they hear the answer.”
“Now you have to tell me. Is it some fast-food dive?”
“Worse. Much worse.” I can see he’s restraining a smile.
“What, you do coat check at a strip club?”
“You’re not far off.”
“Oh, no, you’re a stripper!”
He laughs. “I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not. But no, that’s not it. I can’t do fancy pec moves and I don’t spend hours in a tanning bed.”
I burst out laughing. “You’ve got to tell me, Mikhail. It’s going to bother me all night.”
“Okay, I work at Knockers.”
“No way!”
“Yes way. I’m a line cook. Pays okay, and it’s right around the corner from my house.”
“Must be a lot of eye candy there, huh?”
“Sure,
but the girls don’t pay any attention to the kitchen staff except to bitch at us when we make a mistake.”
“I know what it’s like to have a crappy job. I work at Eddie’s Grocery. It’s the worst store ever. I’d never buy meat there because they leave it sitting in the back for hours.”
“Yeah, a grocery store is probably the worst place to work. My ex works at Foodstop. If they’re short-staffed, they don’t even give her breaks. I keep telling her to quit, but she never listens to anything I say. She’s very stubborn.”
I catch the bitterness in his voice. Seeing my reaction, he says, “Sorry. It’s just that she has a new boyfriend and it’s been getting to me. She dumped me after two years because she said we were looking for different things. What the hell does that mean?”
Uh-oh. Ex talk. A first date no-no.
“When did you break up?” Maybe it happened recently and the hurt is still fresh. I can understand that.
“Four months ago. Wait—four and a half. You should see how ugly her new boyfriend is. I don’t understand what she could possibly see in him.”
Okay, this is seriously not an appropriate conversation. I have to change the topic. “Have you eaten here before?”
“Oh, yes, it’s one of my favorite restaurants. Katarina and I used to come here all the time.”
“Ah.”
He must’ve caught the look on my face, because he says, “I promised myself I wouldn’t talk about her tonight.”
“It’s okay.”
“I’m glad. I feel like I can tell you anything.”
From that point on, I feel like I’m his psychologist. He goes on and on about his ex, how perfect they were for each other, and how close he was to her family. I do a lot of nodding, but after a while I stop listening. I try several times to change the topic, but that’s not easy to do when he’s spilling his guts onto the table. The food, at least, is pretty good. I’ll have to come back here sometime—without Mikhail.
Couldn’t he just shut up and look cute? Is that too much to ask?
We must have been at the restaurant for three hours. Since he’s talking so much, it takes him forever to eat. Just when I think he’s finished, he orders coffee and dessert. Argh. I feel like my life is slipping away before my eyes.