I was very unapproachable and emitted a foul hostile energy that repelled any boys with good sense in high school who may have otherwise been attracted to me. But there was one boy, S., who really liked me (my mother told me recently: āI could tell that boy had no self-respect for dating youā LOL and sheās so right).
I loathed him and found him to be so profoundly irritating and utterly lacking in refinement or taste but he tried his best to win me over by constantly assaulting me with his boisterous and animated presence. Unfortunately, I was on the court for my cousinās quinceanera and needed a date, so I finally bit, having no other options and needing to RSVP several months in advance of the date of the event with the name of my āescort.ā
We started dating before then because why not. My friends threw a surprise birthday party for me at my neighborhood park and after singing happy birthday to me, they all started chanting at me in unison to kiss S., so we went behind a tree for privacy and complied. All I really remember is that his mouth tasted like a burger exactly like the Wet Hot American Summer quote.
This lanky string bean of a young man legitimately only ate pizza and hamburgers and only drank Dr. Pepper (I recently heard that he had come down with gout and I can see why). He had a giant collection of dirty Converse shoes, which he kept in a pile and wore to the exclusion of all other footwear, and he called them Chucks.
He would write me love letters and I would correct the grammar and syntax in red pen and return them to him. He would talk about the children we were going to have someday and tell me that the song āMaybe I'm Amazedā by Paul McCartney made him think of me; I would tell him that I donāt think teenagers can experience real love. I convinced him to grow a beard to hide his off-putting pointy chin that made him look exactly like the tragedy and comedy masks ābecause it just looks so much betterā which he has not shaved since. š
He ended up having an emotional affair with a pizza delivery girl from Oregon who was probably a catfish on the forums for the television show Psych (which he was obsessed with), which hurt my ego more than anything. After the breakup I burned all of the drawings and handmade gifts he had given me in a barbecue grill. I hope heās found a sweet simpleton who treats him well and gives him what he needs. Thatās the story of my evil past and the boy who gave me my first kiss.
Oct 16, 2024
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He was in eighth grade; I was in sixth grade. We were in our middle school performance of Into the Woods Jr. together (I played Jackāyes I brought the house down with my rendition of Giants in the Skyāand he played the Baker). He called me Smurf because I got blue paint on my face when we were painting sets.
He was like five feet tall with a mushroom haircut and loved Bob Dylan and would sit out in front of the car drop off area in the mornings with a little handmade poster protesting the Iraq war which I was also precociously passionate about. Once we were at a sight reading competition off campus (I played viola and he was a cellist) and he pulled a foil wrapped burrito out of his pants pocket and ate it and then folded it into a plane. He was my second biggest customer for choir fundraising candybars (my biggest customer was myself I actually ended up eating basically the whole case).
Also a boy named Nick who was assigned as my stand partner in orchestra his first day as a transfer student. I accidentally jabbed him in the eye with my bow shortly after meeting him and apologized profusely, to which he said, āitās okay. Thatās my blind eyeā (not a joke he had cataracts in childhood). we then grew to hate each other with every passing day and would bicker and argue constantly about our ideological opinions on random things. I got called into the principals office for bullying him after I threw paper balls at him but I assured them the conflict was mutual. He had long curly hair and carried a Che Guevara bag and was always scowling just like me š«¶ I eventually realized that I didnāt hate him; I had a crush on him and saw him as an intellectual equal. Middle school is so hardā¦
Pretty much every other crush I had after that was a sick depraved degenerate but I was infatuated nonetheless. in one particular case the obsession was mutual and went on for years and even across the sea and I ended up in a demented love triangle, breaking up two best friends, and ultimately being cyber stalked... Not really iconic mostly just toxic lol š
Oct 8, 2024
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i will tell the tragic story of both of my first kisses:
I was a bit of a late bloomer romantically, and didnāt engage in pining of any sort until about age 15. At some point during my 15th year on this earth, I asked out a girl I knew named Adina who had very beautiful eyes, and we ādatedā for a couple of months: we sat in coffee shops for an hour once a week or so holding slippery, sweaty hands and not making eye contact. This continued until my 16th birthday part sleepover. We two were the last still awake, and there, in the dark, on the hardwood floor of my living room, she kissed me. I remember she put her hand in my hair and i felt blessed.
She pulled away and as I was gearing up to say something, she said:
āI donāt think i like girls actuallyā
Woe!
I in my soul felt damned but tried to handle it with grace. We are still vague friends to this day.
second kiss:
A few months later, I met a boy who ate paper plates, had a reputation for being mean, and regularly skipped class to play guitar in the closet of his school. I deemed it prudent to lose my virginity to him (a confusing but not surprising decision in hindsight.) we started courting, and one day in the autumn, under a tree in washington square park, we kissed. Again, it was beautiful. Until halfway through he pulled away, excused himself, and threw up behind the tree.
WOE AGAIN!!!
Turns out he had strep and did not tell me. we dated for 10 months, broke up, and then dated/broke up again later in life, with much tumult and excitement along the way.
And that is the story of both my first kisses and how I believed I was cursed forever!!!
Oct 17, 2024
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So one of my flexes is that actually I had a great first kiss experience. I was 15, it was with my girlfriend at the time. We had been dating on and off for a few months (this was both our first like serious relationship that counted so it was pretty messy in soooo many ways). We had been best friends for a long time before dating and we always had feelings for each other.
We were in my house playing Dictator on my iPad, sitting on a bean bag in my room. We were cuddling and the tension was over the roof, and after holding the most intense stare ever I ask "what?" (and I knew what was happening but I wanted to play dumb so that she would say it and then I would not have to start it because I was nervous and we had never kissed and thought she might reject me?) anyway and she went "god, I hope I don't regret this" (which like looking back no wonder I was afraid of getting rejected and like damn bitch but also we were teens and she was very nervous too). So she KISSED ME and everything inside me exploded. We proceeded to make out for like a full 40 minutes with some breaks and like got hands under shirts and also this was the first time I ever touched a boob and it was MINDBLOWING and AWESOME (i love boobs).
The breaks we took in between were also pretty sweet. Our relationship up to this point and also after was full of hiding because neither of us wanted our families to know we were together so we were always looking to get intimate in positions were breaking apart at a moment's notice would give us plausible deniability (I still was a cishet man so it wasn't a closet thing back then, but neither of us was ever very close to our families that way). We would play a couple of rounds of Dictator and then make out in the ad breaks. Also my dog was around and wanted to play and was SUCH a bother. In the end the secrecy wasn't effective because the bean bag was right in front of my door (which I was not allowed to close) and we noticed at some point my mom was passing my room on the way out of a room we never saw her walk into in the first place...? So she definitely saw us, we just don't know at what part (hopefully not when we were getting handsy LOL).
We dated for a couple of months more, broke up because I left on a semester abroad, got back together after two years and had a much better, healthier, steady relationship for that time. We don't speak anymore (but that's a story for ANOTHER day) but last we spoke about this we both remember this kiss very fondly.
Oct 17, 2024
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My dad teases me about how when I was a little kid, my favorite thing to do when I was on the landline phone with somebodyābe it a relative or one of my best friendsāwas to breathlessly describe the things that were in my bedroom so that they could have a mental picture of everything I loved and chose to surround myself with, and where I sat at that moment in time. Perfectly Imperfect reminds me of that so thanks for always listening and for sharing with me too š
Feb 23, 2025
Schedule sent my resignation email for the morning, effective immediately ā
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Feb 27, 2025
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Iāve been thinking about how much of social media is centered around curating our self-image. When selfies first became popular, they were dismissed as vain and vapidāa critique often rooted in misogynyābut now, the way we craft our online selves feels more like creating monuments.
We try to signal our individuality, hoping to be seen and understood, but ironically, I think this widens the gap between how others perceive us and who we really are. Instead of fostering connection, it can invite projection and misinterpretationāpreconceived notions, prefab labels, and stereotypes. Worse, individuality has become branded and commodified, reducing our identities to products for others to consume.
On most platforms, validation often comes from how well you can curate and present your imageāselfies, aesthetic branding, and lifestyle content tend to dominate. High engagement is tied to visibility, not necessarily depth or substance. But I think spaces like PI.FYI show that thereās another way: where connection is built on shared ideas, tastes, and interests rather than surface-level content. Itās refreshing to be part of a community that values thoughts over optics.
By sharing so few images of myself, Iāve found that it gives others room to focus on my ideas and voice. When I do share an image, it feels intentionalāsomething that contributes to the story I want to tell rather than defining it. Sharing less allows me to express who I am beyond appearance.
For women, especially, sharing less can be a radical act in a world where the default is to objectify ourselves. It resists the pressure to center appearance, focusing instead on what truly matters: our thoughts, voices, and authenticity. Iāve posted a handful of pictures of myself in 2,500 posts because I care more about showing who I am than how I look.
In trying to be seen, are we making it harder for others to truly know us? Itās a question worth considering.
Dec 27, 2024