Confession.

I am afraid of boys. In the most fundamental way, in all situations, even the ones I count as my friends, even Andrew.
I fear what they are and what they can do and their thoughts, so alien and so similar to mine. As if--what are they thinking? What do they want from me? I am so afraid of the answer to that question that, if ever they ask, I say no. It does not matter if I am friendly to them, or if I adore them. Anything. I cannot give them anything.
I found in my freshman year that I hated this--this high-school romance. Couldn't stand it--these presumptuous students altering their lives for a week or two. We accommodate these pairs for their duration, make another seat at our tables or close up, because they do leave us sometimes. They come back and the partner leaves, it is a square-dance. I chafed at the transparent boredom. So when my opportunity came around, I shoved it away, and again. And again. Absolutely terrified and sickened.
I feel complete on my own. Totally fine. I have my tics and obsessions and am set, at age 16. This reminds me of a boy on This American Life, the TV series, who decided never to fall in love. The theme of the episode was "stubbornness," but I don't feel stubborn about this, just resigned. And not sad.
I mean--if I fall in love, cool. If not, then...it will have gone just as I expect.