Never Been Kissed in Michigan: Part 5!

thenameselodie has got a man in her sights. Now what?—Sparkitors

First things first: I need to acknowledge the veritable tidal wave of comments my last post received about the totally nerdy (yet absolutely sexy) Spencer Reid from Criminal Minds. I’m overjoyed to find that I’m not the only person who has already written a proposal of marriage with his name on it. (What? None of you have done that? Well, neither have I.) In the spirit of Spencer Reid and first kisses, here’s a quick video about Matthew Gray Gubler (the actor who plays Reid) and his very first on-screen kiss. (Trust me—it surpasses “cute” and dives straight into “utterly adorable.”)

Last week, Sparklers, I asked for your opinions on the merits of dating a sophomore and boy, did I get them. Most comments fell under one of three categories:

A. “No. No. No. Do not go for it.”
B. “DATE HIM SO HARD HE WON’T KNOW WHAT HIT HIM.”
C. “Here’s an idea—why don’t you date Liam?”

In response to that last one: nothing even remotely romantic will ever happen between Liam and myself. I can’t even unspool a fantasy reel in my head without giggling like a twelve-year-old boy in the presence of a farting joke. We’ve been close friends for far too long and know far too much about each other. (Example: he knows I have this recurring nightmare about demonic polar bears. I know he wears boxers with polka dots on them.) Our friendship is purely platonic. I am the Hermione to his Harry; now I just need to find my Ron.

Anyway, here are my thoughts on the Age Dilemma. I’ve known senior girls—random acquaintances and close friends alike—who have dated sophomores. Sometimes it worked out. Sometimes it didn’t, and for those relationships that failed, it wasn’t because of the age gap. I don’t think there’s a clear-cut way to define what’s crossing the line and what’s not—you have to rely on your own discretion, because the line gets fuzzy. If I hadn’t already known, I would’ve guessed Spencer was a junior, maybe a senior. I liked him before the age factor reared its ugly head, and I don’t want to cross him off the list of potentials just because of a number. I like him. I also like Johnny Depp, and he’s old enough to be my father. (I wish he were my father. It might raise some serious ethical questions and Oedipal-like problems, but the gene pool is undoubtedly generous in that family. And I want those bedroom eyes—I’d never have to work for anything again. I’d just flash a sultry look and have things handed to me. But I’m getting off-topic.) The point is, age doesn’t guarantee maturity. I, for example, crack “that’s what she said” jokes like they’re supplying oxygen. I know senior guys who still haven’t arrived at the maturity party and, at the rate they’re going, probably never will. All in all, I have no problem with the fact that Spencer is a sophomore. Sure, it may not float everyone’s boat—but it floats mine. (That last part sounded more salacious than I meant it to.)

For those who were concerned about my welfare, being a senior girl dating a sophomore in the hellish rat race that is high school, I do thank you. But take it from a girl who accidentally punched her crush in the face—rumors get around, life is embarrassing, people suck, and none of it really matters in the grand scheme of things.

That being said, Spencer is on my radar, but I’m not zeroing in on him. (You should see me when I do; it starts off innocently enough, but before you know it, I’ve memorized the poor guy’s entire schedule and I keep "accidentally" bumping into him. It gets ugly.) I don’t need to raise my hopes for nothing. He’s the quintessential package of cute, smart, etc., but if it turns out he doesn’t like me, there’s really nothing I can do about that. There are, however, hopeful signs.

You need to know that Spencer, while being prone to bouts of occasional social awkwardness, is also pretty popular with the “smart” crowd. There’s this vast group of seniors who take the hardest courses, throw in a few extracurricular activities like debate or theater, and still manage to have a thrilling social life. I imagine it involves exclusive dance parties at lunch while the rest of us slouch in booths at Burger King or choke down cafeteria food. Anyway, while I take the same classes as them, I’ve never felt quite accepted. I abhor the whole Mean Girls-esque notion of cliques, but at the end of the day, we’ve got to face facts: this is high school. Cliques exist.

Spencer is, for example, pretty tight with The Uber Hottie. It has been my dream that The Uber Hottie will join us one day in the library, just so I can sit there and bask in his gloriousness and chronic good hair days, but it hasn’t happened yet. Spencer did, however, arrive one day with a senior girl named Natalie. She’s that one overachiever (there’s always one—you know who you are) who tackles every AP class available, plays a million sports, and still manages to get a 4.0 GPA. I was already there, working on homework at our usual table. Liam was absent that day, so Spencer and I didn’t even have our mutual friend to tie us together. I watched the two of them approach in the reflection on my laptop (I know—I’m like a super creepy ninja). And I heard Natalie say, “Where should we sit? Over there?” She was pointing to this table halfway across the continent (or at least on the other side of the room). But Spencer shook his head, dropped his books at my table, and said, “I’m gonna sit here. Hey, Elodie.”

He said my name. HE SAID MY NAME. My name sounds so awesome when he says it. It’s like an entire musical in three syllables. Our names sound so good together—except I’m withholding his real name for anonymity’s sake, so you can’t confirm this. Trust me, they sound good together. You’ll just have to take my word for it. I wonder if he likes Twix bars. I wonder how he feels about Criminal Minds. You know, I think I might just have a crush. The question is… where do I go from here?

We have no idea, but we do know that we LOVE THIS SERIES. Sparklers, perhaps you have some more helpful advice?

Related post: Never Been Kissed in Michigan