Her head was on my shoulder, and we held hands as we sat on the back patio of her house. Christmas lights illuminated red and pink roses, and crickets chirped in the summer night. We were strangers just a few hours earlier, but by midnight we were imagining ourselves as a couple, brainstorming portmanteaus that rival the likes of “Brangelina.” I was so smitten that I texted my sister and brother in-law immediately after, “I think I’ve found the one 😍.”
Our banter continued over text in the ensuing days, but my initial optimism and excitement was tempered with caution.
The first time a girl put her head on my shoulder was in high school. She played the clarinet in our concert band. I played the trumpet. Our band chartered two buses to transport the nearly 100 of us down to Washington, DC to participate in a competition. Clarinet Girl and I sat next to each other on the bus. As we progressed into the late of night, the current of excitement in the bus diminished to a hushed quiet, and then a silence in which you could only hear the low hum of the rotating wheels beneath us.
That’s when she put her head on my shoulder.
I couldn’t tell if she was consciously resting her head there, or if it accidentally slumped into that position as she fell asleep. But then she asked, “this isn’t uncomfortable for you, is it?” My face flushed with excitement.
What does this mean? Does it mean she likes me? Does she know that I like her? Are we a couple now?
I’d never kissed a girl before that, or held hands. In the dark of the night, with Clarinet Girl’s head on my shoulder, I forced my eyes to stay open because I didn’t want to fall asleep. I wanted that moment to last forever. I imagined what it would be like to be her boyfriend, to hold hands together for the rest of the trip, and beyond. We’d go out on dinner dates and watch movies at the theater. We’d talk on the phone every day. We’d make out in her bedroom.
None of this happened though. She ignored me for the rest of the weekend. It was as if the whole thing never happened. So I pretended like it never happened either. And like that, the whole relationship I’d built in my head was gone.
Twenty years later I’m still asking the same type of questions. What does it mean that she asked me to join her on her back patio when I drove her home? What does it mean that we held hands? What does it mean that she put her head on my shoulder? Does it mean she likes me? Does she know that I like her?
Part of me can’t shake the feeling that it doesn’t mean anything. How many times since Clarinet Girl has a held hand or resting head not meant anything? And things have gotten worse with online dating apps. Acts of affection are cheap; they’re devalued in a culture of easy hookups and one-night stands. For all I know she could be on a date right now with another guy, with her head on his shoulder. She’s free to. We’re not committed to each other at this stage.
But, I don’t think she is. I think we’re going to fall madly in love with each other. Because what I’ve learned since Clarinet Girl first put her head on my shoulder is that I’d rather live in a world where holding hands and resting your head on someone’s shoulder means something. So I asked her out on a second date and she said yes. We’re going to this fancy pizza restaurant. She likes pizza. I like her. She likes me. Simple.
NOTE: This blog is published with permission from Felix Poon