Waiting
Each season of the year brings about a bit of nostalgia. In fall, it's for apple picking and subsequent pie baking. In summer, it's for falling in love for the first time. Charlie and I were introduced through mutual friends and experienced an immediate intimacy. We poured our stories and secrets out with the sort of intense urgency that only teenagers can muster, and came to know each other completely within a matter of weeks. Yet although we were deeply connected emotionally and wildly hormonal, we never slept together (which I credit for the existence of our friendship all these years later). It was summer and there were plenty of opportunities, but we weren't ready. So we held hands and kissed endlessly, sweetly, in front of the mall, at the movies and everywhere else. And that was plenty. Recently, I was rewatching an episode of Sex In The City in which the sassier of the token gays tells Charlotte that she better get laid soon or it would "grow over." Once