“We can’t do this to ourselves.”
So here we are at the first, and only, breakup I ever had to endure in my high school days. Luckily, it was mutual. There was that one small mercy—I may have been an awkward virgin through many of my formative years, but at least I was the one that never got dumped.
Clara was a friend of the girl next door, and I’d often see her running the carpool route through the neighborhood as I was driving off to private school. Glances at the stop sign turned to casual smiles, then waves, and then the occasional conversation when she arrived too early to pick up my neighbor. She started showing up early on purpose, and soon we were making out in my bedroom while my mom sat downstairs, no doubt relieved that my failures hitherto were simply due to a complete lack of social skills and not asexuality.