Freshman Year

Los Angeles, 2016. It was just so hot. Early August. 85 to 90. Dry heat. Every single day. 

One of my first distinct memories is skipping out on the “Welcome Back Parade” to lay in sweaty heat with a girl named Gina, non-sexually, on my twin-sized dorm bed. We listened to “Closer” by the Chainsmokers, hating that terrible song together. It might have been the first time I ever physically cuddled with a female girl. It felt really good. Really really really good. That was all I wanted to do from then on. 

I lost her trust in less than two months. One day she asked me where I was going and instead of telling her that I was going to a Smash Bros Tournament I said that I was doing something else. Partially because I was insecure about the fact that I went to Smash Bros Tournaments and also because I didn’t want her to think I was blowing her off for a childrens’ party game. But both of those things were true.