Teenagers Are the Worst

Writing this post about surprise birthday parties reminded me of a few things about being a teenager/almost-teenager.

At that age, I suffered from--well, a lot of things, but three particular delusions come to mind.

1. Life was controlled.
I didn't understand just how much of success was out of my hands, how much of the stuff that happens to people just, well, happens. Boys liking you just happens. Surprise birthday parties just happen. And so do negative things, like death and disease and accidents.

2. The things that I could control should not be controlled.
I can't even begin to tell you how many times I thought things like, "I want to talk to that person but they're not coming over to talk to me, so I can't."

Why didn't I just go talk to them myself? Because if teenagers talk to people they want to talk to, they die.

3. I couldn't be honest.
If teenagers are honest, they also die.

Basically, teenagerhood is one big giant death trap.

Really, though. Teenagers are masters of double-talk, of saying one thing but meaning another and of "hinting" instead of frankly speaking their minds.

Case in point:

When we were in high school, the Chess Master and I would email fairly frequently as we went to different schools and saw each other but rarely. One fine February day, the Chess Master began an utterly bewildering email conversation that lasted the better part of a month. Here is the gist of what was said.

THE CHESS MASTER: I was just at a military ball. Military balls are fun. Maybe I will take you to one sometime.

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Okay!

THE CHESS MASTER: I want to go to my school's prom.

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Okay...

THE CHESS MASTER: You're a girl.

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: That's a clever thing for you to say.

THE CHESS MASTER: You know what girls like. Help me ask a girl to my prom.

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: I don't know how to do that.

THE CHESS MASTER: The girls I might take are named Madison or Kristina. If you help me ask one of them, I will help you get a guy to ask you to your prom.

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: I'm so confused and annoyed.

THE CHESS MASTER: Why are you annoyed? My sister will send you an email telling you some things about prom now.

THE CHESS MASTER'S SISTER: Let me tell you some things about prom now.

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Why is this happening.

THE CHESS MASTER: Tell me about some guy you want to ask you to prom. I will tell you how to get him to ask you.

In a moment of unteenagerish honesty, I replied to the Chess Master and said that I had no interest in coercing some poor boy into taking me to prom thank you very much.

The Chess Master responded by saying, "I wish more girls were more like you."

Then he asked me if I wanted to go to prom with him.

I stared at the email, feeling emotionally exhausted and drained. I wondered if this is what he had in mind the whole time and if so, why he hadn't just said so in the first place.

Then I quickly banished the thought. I knew at some instinctual level that if I thought that way, I would not survive being a teenager.