It's So High School

Katie shouldn't leave her school notes lying around when it's cleaning-up time, because then we review loose papers to see if they can be pitched, and then we discover that one of Katie's best friends, recently ditched by her boyfriend, feels like dieing [sic], but is willing to put this ultimate fate off a little longer once Katie assures her heartily that everybody else loves her, enjoys her company, needs her friendship, and would miss her terribly. "Like me," says Katie, who is a kind-hearted little soul.

"Okay, I guess," writes her friend.

Hands up, everybody who's glad not to be a teenager anymore!

But teenaged angst never quite goes away, does it? There's always that insecurity, that terror of rejection. You can put a braver face on it; you can let go of things faster; but in that initial heartbreaking moment of truth, the pain is every bit as awful now as it was when you were a 15-year-old poster child for over-the-counter acne medicine.

So in mature adulthood as well as in adolescence, it's nice to have friends who will run interference for you. What would it mean, exactly, I wondered, if a friend of mine were to offer to perform this service by me? Would it be that my friend is a guy, and the interesting object in question would also be a guy; so therefore, my friend's addressing the Interesting Object on my behalf in Officially Accepted Guy Terms™ would cause I.O. to don a nice big Christmas bow and drop into my lap?

Well, maybe not. But the intermediary acts as a buffer, which is logical enough. I.O. could convey his grateful regrets to my friend with a great deal less empathetic awkwardness than he might feel if forced to deal with me directly; and, if rejected, I could receive a rejection of unarguable intent, yet couched in the gentlest terms, from someone who cared for me.

If this weren't all entirely hypothetical, I'd pass you a note in 4th period to tell you how it all turned out.