[X&Y] Yes, I Was Terrified Of Girls In High School Too (Here's What Happened)
Published: Wed, 10/21/20
IN THIS EDITION: Yes, I messed up with girls in high school, too.
But here's what I discovered (and what I did as a result).
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YES, I WAS TERRIFIED OF GIRLS IN HIGH SCHOOL TOO
Back when I was in high school, I generally assumed (like most guys
my age, it turns out) that most of the girls couldn't possibly like
me.
Then one day, this incredibly cute blondie named Cathy walked up to
me at soccer practice.
I had seen her in the hallways...and in my dreams at night. And now
here she was, out of nowhere coming over to talk to ME.
The fact that she was dressed in her field hockey outfit made
matters all the more intense.
For those of you not blessed to have gone to a school with
field hockey or lacrosse teams for the girls, let's just say that
outfitting the right girl with a ponytail and a kilt in combination
with Adidas cleats trumps a cheerleader uniform almost every time.
Nowadays, female lacrosse and field hockey players pretty much
dress like the boys.
Bummer for you younger guys.
But anyway, Cathy was one of the cutest girls my 17-year-old mind
had ever comprehended. And to this day, she probably still doesn't
know that.
Why?
Well, as it turns out, Cathy didn't come to talk to me about herself.
And in retrospect, how crazy of an expectation would that have been
of a 16-year-old girl anyway?
Instead, she looked at me with her big green eyes and pouty little
smile and said, "Um...excuse me, can I talk to you for a minute,
Scot?"
For starters, there was just something about how she sort of called
me "Scaw-ot" instead of "Scot". Didn't these girls know how
irresistibly cute it was when they did that?
Dumbfounded, I responded, "Better hurry...your sixty seconds are
ticking away" or, "Only if you bought me something really nice."
Nah, I'm just kidding.
Actually, it was more like, "Duh...ummm...ah...[voice cracking and
barely audible] yeah...I mean, um...sure, YEAH."
Cathy smiled brightly, eyes shining.
She turned and gestured toward the field hockey practice field
about a hundred yards away, as if such an ever-present distraction
needed pointing out.
"Oh good! Do you know who my friend Christa is?"
Scrambling, I feigned ignorance (the default mode of a guy with zero
game, by the way), and stumbled over the words, "Uhhh...I'm not
sure. Maybe not."
I lied.
Christa was Cathy's friend. Basically the brown-haired version of
her, only with big, bright blue eyes instead of green ones and an
even more irresistibly spunky personality.
Had I been more creative than most seventeen-year-old boys back in
1983 I may have dreamed of both Cathy and Christa at night.
Instead, no thanks to my conventional Western mindset, they had to
take turns.
"Well, she kinda likes you. Omigod, she'd like KILL me if she knew
I was telling you this, but I think you should talk to her. Maybe
ask her out, 'K?. Oh wow, gotta go before I get in trouble...bye!"
She gave me that little wave with the middle two fingers that girls
her age do, then skipped back over to field hockey practice.
The fog of what had just happened didn't lift for a while, so I never
realized how impossible it was that Christa didn't know her best
friend was 100 yards away talking to me.
Therefore, it also never occurred to me that she must have sent
Cathy to begin with.
So what did I do instead?
I waited a full two weeks before getting the nerve to approach
Christa, somehow rationalizing and over-analyzing the open
invitation I'd been given.
Two honkin' weeks, man.
But when I did finally meet her, and suggested we hang out sometime,
she giggled and said, "Okay, sure! I was wondering when you were
ever going to talk to me...I thought maybe you didn't like me."
I'm telling you...even from an early age, female human beings want
us as guys to take the lead.
So Christa became my steady girlfriend almost immediately.
Having somehow "lucked" into my situation, so I reasoned, I wasn't
about to let that little chick go.
Soon I obsessed over her, ultimately to the point where she called
me one night after about five months of all this and told me,
"Um...I think we should break up. But we can still be friends."
We've been over the "Just Be Friends" talk and what causes it time
after time around there. There's no need to reiterate that.
Instead, here's the real point in this context: I had automatically
assumed that only pure luck had caused Christa to like me.
Since I couldn't pinpoint any apparent legitimate reason why a
girl would be attracted to me, it followed logically in my mind
that this was an isolated instance that I'd better milk for all it
was worth.
So when she liked me, I grabbed hold and wouldn't let go.
And when she ditched me, I was a babbling mess in need of
psychiatric help.
But here's the truly weird part.
A mere couple of days later, I called a girl from another nearby
high school who I had met on a weekend trip a few months prior.
She had given me her number (probably because she actually liked
me...go figure). Now that Christa had bailed on me, I used it.
This particular girl was another spunky, smiley little blondie with
sparkling green eyes, like Christa's friend Cathy...only she was
named Stacey.
Stacey was at least as cute as either Christa or Cathy.
But in my twisted mind, the greatest irony of all was that she said
"YES" enthusiastically when I suggested we should meet and
spend some time together.
I felt flat-out stupid for having thought Christa was my only option.
And let me tell you, stupidity morphed into flat-out nausea when I
read what some other girls wrote in my yearbook after graduation
my senior year.
Clearly, I had squandered many, many opportunities with very cute
girls all throughout high school.
One of these days I should take digital photos of pages from my
senior yearbook, post them in the Facebook group and let you
guys throw rotten veggies at me and laugh your collective butts off.
You'd see what I'm talking about plain as day. That's how
blatantly dumb I'd been.
Why did I let that happen? Because I didn't think any of them
could possibly really like me.
But all the while the truth had been that Christa wasn't a fluke.
She was a perfectly rational girl, able to decide for herself what
guy she likes and why.
So were (and are) most of the others out there.
In fact, it's safe to assume that all women are, no matter whether
they're 16 or 116, or anywhere in between. (Well, 116 is pushing
it, but you get my point.)
Guys, here it is: If ONE woman likes you, there are OTHERS
out there who will also.
Bet on it.
Roll the dice and bet BIG on it.
"Luck" has nothing to do with it, actually.
If you are attractive to the first woman who comes along, there
WILL be a second.
And a third.
And a fourth.
I already hear some of the excuses you might have.
Save them.
I realize not every woman is going to like you, just like you're
not going to like every woman. That's not an excuse, that's
just human nature.
Check it out...at least one of my friends back in high school
used to be quick to tell me, "Dude, Christa's not all that, man."
His girlfriend was a completely different kind of girl, so it was
all good. To each his own.
But Christa didn't really care what he thought, as far as I could
tell. And neither did I.
And nor should you care what women who aren't attracted to
you think.
The point remains: If one woman likes you, others will too.
In fact, they probably already do.
If you've had at least one woman show interest in you recently,
you're cheating yourself by considering that as having been a
freakish accident.
And hey, looking back, was the last time a woman liked you a long
time ago?
All that means is that you have it in you.
You just have to put aside what's happened recently and go back
and claim the popularity with the ladies that's rightfully yours.
Maybe you are even brash enough to think that no woman has
ever liked you.
If that's the case, you've been blind to how women indicate their
subtle interest in you.
Either that or you've completely neglected your social skills and/or
personal hygiene.
And the latter, my friend, isn't any woman's fault.
My point is that no matter what, you should have at one point or
another experienced at least one woman having shown interest in
you.
And that means that you should understand yourself as being
interesting to other women out there also.
Keep your eyes open for the women out there who are digging
you.
Be Good,
Scot McKay
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