What a (Seventh Grade) Girl Really Wants

Chloe is now in the seventh grade. A generation ago, this would be the first year of Junior High School. Today it is the second of the three years of Middle School. Typically, the girls pull ahead of the boys in stature and reading skills while the boys pull ahead of the girls in math. Nearly all the girls are using bras and menstrual pads. Likewise, most of the boys are experiencing the effects of a significant increase in testosterone.

Important but Not Central

With Philip, a whole bunch of things are happening at once. In addition to his junior year of high school being filled with all sorts of important near-year-end tests and assignments, he needs to think about his lacrosse team, Prom, his driving test, the SATs, visiting colleges and completing the volunteer hours he will need to officially log with the school in order to graduate.

Cologne for the Prom or Formal

Few events from high school will be as memorable as the proms and formal dances. If you are a guy, this is your chance to make a great memory for yourself and for your date. You get to dress outside your normal attire in a tuxedo, suit or at least something extra special. Philip for example owns a Black Alfani “Red Label” Jacket that fits his tall, lean body perfectly. He has worn it to banquets and other special events with an un-tucked button-up shirt, tight jeans and leather dress shoes. For the upcoming Winter Formal, Philip will combine his Alfani jacket with some new attire to provide the perfect look.

Getting off to a Bad Start

Normally, boring adults like me only get to witness such things by watching teen dramas on television. But I guess it makes sense that volunteering to chaperon an end-of-summer teen dance sponsored by the Hermes High School Cheer Squad put me right where all that might be gossip-worthy would appear. Only three adults witnessed the “event of the evening” and I was one. And since one of the three was Liana’s mother, it was really only two adults who were privileged to witness Liana’s crowning act in making a foolish spectacle of herself.

Prom: A Guy Needs to Ask with Style

October 4, 2005 is a day that probably almost nobody remembers as special. But its impact on high school prom season is starting to hold out against the test of time. On that day MTV first aired the Our Last Prom episode of their popular series, Laguna Beach. During the first half of the episode, one after another the high school girls from Laguna Beach enjoyed the surprise of being asked to prom in unique and creative ways. In theory it should have been another fun episode for fans to watch. But instead it had a cascading effect. According to Unhooked author, Laura Sessions Stepp, high school girls suddenly had raised expectations about how they would be asked to prom. By the 2006 prom season some six months later, high school boys in upscale, middle class and even economically depressed communities were either going the extra mile or they were being rebuffed.

The Tame Teen Culture of Grinding and Social Networking

On March 4th the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) released a report that showed (with two interesting exceptions) a significant drop in teen sex between two studies for which the data was only five years apart. I’ve copied the CDC’s figures for teenagers ages 15 – 17 into the tables below. In a way, the numbers communicate more than anything I or anyone else could write in comment.

Heterosexual Sex: Ages 15 – 17	Boys 2002	Boys 2006-8	Boys’ Drop	Girls 2002	Girls 2006-8	Girls’ Drop
Vaginal Sex	36.3%	31.8%	4.5%	38.7%	33.0%	5.7%
Any Oral Sex	44.0%	35.0%	9.0%	42.0%	30.2%	11.8%
Gave Oral Sex	30.4%	22.5%	7.9%	28.2%	25.1%	3.1%
Received Oral Sex	38.0%	33.4%	4.6%	40.3%	26.8%	13.5%
Anal Sex	8.1%	6.2%	1.9%	5.6%	7.0%	------
No Heterosexual Contact	46.8%	53.2%	7.4%	50.2%	60.3%	10.1%

Additional Sexual Data: Ages 15 - 17	Boys 2002	Boys 2006-8	Boys’ Drop	Girls 2002	Girls 2006-8	Girls’ Drop
Homosexual Sex	3.9%	1.7%	2.2%	8.4%	10.3%	------
No Sexual Contact	46.1%	52.6%	6.5%	48.6%	58.2%	9.6%

Inspired to Connect the Past to the Present

Back in September, I started a new job with a new company. I went from primarily working out of my home office in Hermes to working at my new company’s regional office in Riverdale. It is a fifty minute commute. The office building is walking distance from the shops and restaurants in historic downtown Riverdale and even closer to an office building where I worked for six years when Philip was a small child.

The other day I walked past that old office building during my lunch break. There was my former office’s window looking down at me: Second floor, second window from the left. I could see the shade was lowered about one third of the way. My former company had been sold to a larger corporation and operations had been scattered to other locations. Someone I probably did not even know now occupied my former abode. The art work that once occupied the walls inside that office was now hanging from the wall of my home office in Hermes. Still, the second window from the left on the second floor looked virtually unchanged. It was enough to fill me with a flood of memories from that time.

The old company had relocated me and my family from another state to San Geraldo in order for me to work there. That six year job stint took me from the days when Philip couldn’t even pronounce his own name to the first half of his second grade year of elementary school. It included Chloe’s birth and the first three years of her life as well as our move from San Geraldo to Hermes. So much had been packed into a little more than half a decade.

It is funny what memories take hold for us to cherish. For me, one such memory dates back to Philip’s early days in preschool. I had taken the train to work that day. Young Philip loved trains. “Twain – twain,” he would say pointing whenever he spotted one. Amelia had plans to have dinner with a friend in Oxford Hills. We decided she would take Philip to my office for me to bring home. It would be his first chance to actually ride on a train.

Philip and Amelia arrived in the late afternoon. The train home would arrive forty minutes later. I wanted to make Philip’s rare visits to my office special. On that day I began two rituals which I would repeat each time he visited my office for the rest of the time he was in preschool. First, I took him to the office kitchen for a can of root beer from the refrigerator. Going forward, “Rooph Beer” was all he would get to drink in my office and we refrained from serving it to him in any other venue. The other ritual was drawing a picture. With my green highlighter pen and copy paper, I would draw “Dexter the Dragon” which was a children’s ride at the San Geraldo Zoo. Those rituals played out on perhaps twenty visits to my office over the next two years, always at Philip’s request. During some of those visits, Philip would get to ride the twain again.

Walking through downtown Riverdale the other day was an experience somewhere between stepping through a time portal and getting a visit from the Ghost of Christmas Past. Some things looked exactly the same. There was still the hair salon run by an extended Vietnamese family that provided a fantastic men’s haircut for a fantastic price. Two coffee shops, two Irish pubs, two Thai restaurants and an upscale deli were still thriving businesses. Other things had changed. The Microbrew had changed its name and ownership. My Hungarian tailor had retired and a tanning salon had replaced his little shop. My favorite Mexican restaurant had gone. And the Armenian shoe repair shop had expanded business to include luggage repair. A lot is the same and a lot has changed in some eight years. What can be said about downtown Riverdale can also be said about my family.

Tonight, our whole family along with Chloe’s friend Patty will spend the evening enjoying a New Year’s Eve Ball. Guys will be wearing blazers and ladies will be wearing dresses. Amelia and I plan to watch from a distance as Philip dances with one elegantly dressed, lovely teenage girl after another while Chloe and Patty share dances with younger boys. On Sunday, Philip will take part in a lacrosse scrimmage under the lights at Cabrillo High School involving the area’s high school and college players. I plan to plant myself in the bleachers and soak in the pleasure of watching Philip holding his own against MCLA lacrosse players.

So much time has gone by. The adolescent Philip who ballroom dances and plays varsity lacrosse seems so different from the little boy who drank rooph beer and wanted to see another highlighter drawing of Dexter the Dragon before riding home on the twain. But every so often, something as simple as the sight of a second story window brings all those great memories back and connects them to the great memories that are being formed in the present.

Scoring a Fantastic Date to the Winter Formal

Philip’s sophomore Homecoming Dance is a rapidly fading memory. The next dance at Hermes High School is the Winter Formal. Besides the attire, the big difference between the Homecoming Dance and the Winter Formal is the number of people who go with a date. It is not quite the Prom, for which nearly everyone goes as a couple. But Winter Formal is the only other venue in which students who are not officially attached will go together as a couple.

That part of life is decades behind me, but I remember it well. As with many parts of my life long ago that Philip is now experiencing, I think I have learned some things since that time. For Philip’s sake and for the sake of any reader willing to heed my words, here is what I have to say about scoring a fantastic date for the Winter Formal.

Glitter on the Floor and Grinding at the Hips

The club’s rules were enforced to the letter. Club Avalanche’s trained security staff ensured no drugs, alcohol, weapons, or anyone out of dress code or outside the age window of fourteen to eighteen made it through the door. Throughout the evening the security staff remained an ever-vigilant presence inside the club to swiftly expel anyone looking for a fight. These strict rules made me as a parent feel good about Philip attending one of their events.

Over the course of four high school dances during his freshman year, Philip had come to like dancing. While the kind of dancing Philip’s generation practiced at Hermes High School was racier than what I had experienced in my generation, Philip seemed to have found a set of boundaries that worked for him and as such I was comfortable as a parent. After reading all of the Club Avalanche marketing material, I encouraged Philip to check out one of their events. But Philip was only guardedly interested.* He decided to check one out. But he specifically wanted to check it out without bringing a friend along, and he specifically wanted to check it out at their event in Oxford Hills, a thirty-five minute drive from Hermes. In short, Philip didn’t want to see anyone he knew when he went to his first Club Avalanche event.

The evening began with a long wait in line outside the club. The doors did not even open until ten minutes after the event was supposed to begin. I promised not to leave Oxford Hills until Philip had sent me a text message from inside the club. I took the opportunity to enjoy a stroll in downtown Oxford Hills. Half an hour before the event was supposed to begin, Philip sent me a text commenting on his discomfort with the crowd waiting outside the club. Most of the teens in line were displaying a tough exterior, and nobody was using the opportunity to meet new people. Philip did not see anyone else who was alone. He saw groups of guys and he saw large groups of girls with just one or two token guys in tow. He was still only guardedly interested when he finally made it inside.

Colored lights waved. Strobe lights flashed. A DJ played all of the most popular dance songs. Philip was immediately disappointed with how loud the DJ was playing the music. It was impossible for two people to hear one another talking. Philip scanned the room before taking any kind of action. And then he saw it. Over half of the kids were grinding while they danced. There were no rules against grinding or any other sensual behavior at Club Avalanche, although the dress code meant everyone kept their clothes on. There were no drugs, alcohol, weapons or threatening behavior inside the club. But any other rules that one might infer were not enforced at all. There were no parents, no teachers, no school administrators, no coaches and no other rules. If it was consensual and could happen without putting someone out of dress code, it was happening in multiple places inside those four walls.

After assessing the overall mood and climate in the room, Philip started dancing to the loud, fast hip-hop beat. He worked his way behind a girl close to his age dancing without a partner. He had learned to approach cautiously, giving the girl ample opportunity to give him a subtle signal of rejection. At Club Avalanche, he found he was more likely to be rejected than was the case at a Hermes High School dance. But he had expected as much, given he was a stranger to everyone there. Some girls simply didn’t dance with strangers and it wasn’t always apparent who would dance with strangers and who would not. If the girl in question leaned back into his chest, Philip would share the rest of the song with her.

From the proximity of the dance floor, Philip saw the grinding live and up close. Some of it was overt and explicit. But much of it merely involved taking the contact he considered to be normal and extending that contact lower. And so Philip decided to try out the less explicit grind dancing. He began dancing up to a slightly older girl he had already seen grinding with more than one guy. As he got progressively closer, she continued to welcome his advances. With his hands firmly on both her hips, he cautiously moved his hip forward until it was firmly pressed against her buttock. The move was welcome, so he slowly turned to press both his hips against her from behind while she leaned her full body back into him and continued dancing. She seemed both satisfied and distant. His mouth was just a few inches from her ear, but he knew that the music was far too loud for her to hear anything he might say.

The song ended quickly and Philip saw his first grinding partner move on to someone else. He continued the pattern of dancing up to a girl, first securing her acceptance to dance in close proximity and then securing her acceptance to grind. Not all girls who leaned back into him agreed to the grinding, but many still did. With the end of each song, a new dance partner needed to be found. Dancing among the grinders, Philip experienced a surreal, high-energy, wordless cross between speed dating and hookup culture. Eventually, he took a break and visited the men’s room. When the door closed behind him, the music volume suddenly dropped. He felt a numb buzzing sensation in his ears. Then over the music and the buzzing, he began to hear a small group of guys talking about the girls they had been with so far that evening. Their misogynistic attitude annoyed Philip. And yet, without the ability to talk, girls and guys who had not met before were reduced to objects of consensual play out on the dance floor. This is just stupid, he thought.

Philip left the men’s room and returned to the edge of the dance floor. He scanned the room with a newly focused set of intentions. This time, he was looking to identify the girls who were not grinding. He picked up that the girls who were younger and avoiding the center of the dance floor were generally non-grinders. Although members is this segment of the population were the least likely to welcome him to dance in his regular fashion, these younger, more cautious girls were the ones on whom he focused his attentions for the rest of the evening.

At his request, I picked up Philip outside the club about half an hour before the evening’s event officially ended. He didn’t have much to say, except to tell me he was not planning on attending another one of their dance events any time soon. A couple weeks later, he told me he had no intention of ever returning. And as time passed, Philip slowly disclosed the full story of the grinding culture and his brief experiment with it. He had no interest in grinding, especially with complete strangers. And he really hated that fact that he could not even talk to his dance partners over the loud music.

While Philip was embarrassed to disclose the specifics of his experience, it was hard not to be impressed with his depth. His morals and ethics did not grow out of a “do and don’t” list imposed from the outside. Instead, he merely values relationships. And there were no relationships—not even casual friendships—to be found on the Club Avalanche dance floor: just glitter.

* See my comment on this post for an important explanation for those of you who read this blog regularly.

The Double Scoop Boy

Summer is now upon us. School is over. Lacrosse season is over. Chloe celebrated her eleventh birthday. And last weekend we enjoyed this summer’s first ballroom dance event. The whole family went. Chloe brought her friend Wendy along. Philip and I wore dress pants, dress shirts, ties and blazers. Amelia, Chloe and Wendy wore formal dresses. The event was held at an ideal location. Just outside the ballroom was a large deck overlooking a three acre pond brilliantly reflecting a rising full moon.

Chloe and Wendy were nearly the only tweens who showed up for the dance event. There was just one tween boy besides them. Everyone else was either a teen or an adult. As the evening began to move forward, Chloe and Wendy discovered that nobody was asking them to dance. The one tween boy present was sticking close to a handful of teenage girls who were his sisters and cousins. And the thirteen and fourteen year old teen boys were giving their attention exclusively to the teenage girls. Eventually, the two came over to me to complain about their predicament. “Nobody is asking us to dance,” they said in near stereo.

“Why don’t you two go together, walk up to a group of boys and ask two of them to dance?” I asked. Their response was immediate, negative, certain and in perfect stereo. “Well,” I continued. “What if I offered you ice cream as a reward for asking?”

Wendy continued to shake her head, but Chloe got a gleam in her eye and said “Maybe.”

“Alright,” I responded. “You two decide what boys you would like to ask. Come back and talk to me at the end of the next song.”

Chloe knew how best to get what she wanted from me. So at the end of the next song Chloe walked up to me with Wendy at her side and said, “We want to know how much ice cream we get.”

I paused and looked around the room. “There is one boy your age in the room. Asking him to dance will get you a kiddie scoop. You can take turns asking him.” Having asked a boy to dance last summer, Chloe was much more comfortable with the idea than Wendy. Chloe simply waited for the next song to begin and then approached the tween boy who immediately accepted Chloe’s proposal. Chloe returned to us victorious at the beginning of the next song, but Chloe’s success did not inspire the necessary bravery in Wendy. But Chloe’s bravery had inspired the same in another. The tween boy approached us one song latter and asked Wendy to dance.

Getting the tween boy to dance was a good start, but I knew it was not enough. I carefully scanned the younger teen boys not knowing exactly what I was looking for until I spotted him. The Double Scoop Boy was standing confidently with three other boys close to his age. I had already seen him dancing with plenty of girls close to his age. He was not shy, and he seemed to be genuinely enjoying the evening. He had brown eyes, dark hair, light skin and just a few freckles. He was wearing a well pressed white oxford shirt, dark pants and a dark tie. His face still held some of the angelic features of a young boy. “OK, girls,” I said. “If you ask any teen boy to dance, I’ll buy you a single scoop. And if you ask the dark-haired boy in the white shirt to dance, I’ll buy you a double scoop.”

Chloe continued to take the lead. She asked a tall boy with a crew cut who was perhaps fourteen years old to dance. Then two songs later, Chloe approached The Double Scoop Boy and asked him. The Double Scoop Boy jokingly acted deeply flattered by opening his mouth and holding both palms forward before he relaxed into a smile and accepted Chloe’s proposal. He took advantage of the fact that he was taller than Chloe to twirl her as often as the music would allow.

The dance with The Double Scoop Boy had the effect I had intended. The boy with the crew cut stepped forward and asked Wendy to dance. Everyone saw the two girls having fun twirling beneath their young teen dance partners. And for the rest of the evening, Double Scoop Boy, the tween boy and a small band of young teenage boys (including one boy who had a mustache) kept Chloe and Wendy on the dance floor as often as any teenage girl was on the dance floor.

In the end, we all had a great evening. And now I am looking forward to another great evening. I will be spending it with Chloe and Wendy at the local ice cream shop where they will claim the double scoops I promised them.

The Age Gender Gap

May is Prom month for high school students. Juniors celebrate their final weeks as underclassmen and look forward to their senior year. Seniors celebrate their final weeks of high school and look forward to life beyond high school. And a large number of freshmen and sophomores join in the celebration as dates. And it is here that we find a huge gender disparity. Nearly all the younger dates are girls. According Philip, only one freshman guy at Hermes High School was even asked to the Prom, and the guy in question turned down the older girl’s invitation.

As the spring weeks moved forward, Philip’s female classmates began posting Facebook comments about going to Prom, buying their dresses and scheduling make-up and photo appointments. The comments were followed closely by actual photographs of these classmates posing at various stages of the process with each other and with their older dates, culminating in them all wearing formal attire. And within a few days after Prom, many of Philip’s female classmates disclosed they were in official relationships with their older Prom dates. Formspring then provided the venue where an endless stream of questions about these girls’ sexual activity were first rebuffed and then answered.

In stark contrast, Philip is still saving his first kiss for someone special. At this age, the girls on average have experienced significantly more “relationship firsts” than their guy counterparts: First dates, first boyfriends, first break-ups, first kisses, first Proms, as well as plenty of “first” sexual milestones.

As a parent, I am in no rush to see Philip chalk up a bunch of these “firsts” at such a young age. But it is becoming painfully clear to me that Chloe’s freshman year of high school will be fraught with much more danger as well pressure to enter into “firsts” than Philip has experienced during his freshman year. And it is simply because Chloe is a girl. For teenagers, there is an age gender gap, and there always has been.

For Philip, the age gender gap played out effectively in his favor for the first time one recent Saturday evening. He hosted a teen social at our home that was arguably the best one yet. Its success came as a pleasant surprise.

Philip and Chloe were both at an unrelated early evening event on a Saturday where a bunch of kids they knew were in attendance. Chloe was actually the one to have the idea. “Can Philip and I invite our friends back to our house for a teen social? I thought we could rent the movie, Push.”

“Check with your brother, but sure. It sounds like a good idea,” I answered. An hour later, there were eight kids ranging from Chloe’s age to Philip’s age at our house. We simply brought out soda and popcorn we already had. Amazon.com’s instant movie service allowed us to rent Push for just a few dollars.

Philip was joined, by two other fifteen-year-old freshman guys: His best friend Joshua and another guy named Kevin. Then there were three thirteen-year-old girls: Joshua’s sister Debbie, Debbie’s best friend Katie, and our family friend Ashley. Chloe was joined by Joshua’s youngest sister Abby who was only six months older than Chloe.

We had been observing a relationship developing between Debbie and Kevin for several weeks. Things solidified as Kevin and Debbie sat close with Kevin’s arm wrapped fondly around Debbie’s shoulder. According to Chloe, the two kissed some time at the end of the evening when no adult was there to witness the event. Kevin later told me it was their first shared kiss.

What I think made the evening so enjoyable for everyone was that the guys were not feeling inferior to the girls, and the girls were clearly enjoying the mostly respectful attention from the older guys. The one possible exception might have been Joshua who was more interested in gaining Philip’s attention than the attention of either Katie, Ashley or his sister.

When the movie was over and we were waiting for rides to arrive, the guys got on their hands and knees to begin forming a pyramid for my camera. Philip was in the middle. Katie climbed on top of Philip and Kevin. Debbie climbed on top of Philip and her brother. Ashlee and Chloe helped Abby up to top off the pyramid.

While his girl peers were posting very grown-up looking Prom photos to Facebook, Philip’s image appeared on Facebook at the base of a very not-grown-up looking pyramid. For Philip, the age gender gap is keeping him young for just a little bit longer.

Commercial Teen Dance Events

Bubonic is the name that was given to the dreaded plague that ravaged western civilization during the Dark Ages. It is also the name that was given to a teen dance club that operated in the 1980s not far from where I grew up. I knew The Bubonic mostly by reputation. I had a reasonably close friend who went regularly. It was housed in an otherwise unused warehouse at a light industrial park. The music was punk and the more raucous new wave styles of the time. My reasonably close friend said he went there to slam dance.

Once I had access to my own car, my curiosity about The Bubonic needed to be satisfied. My best friend and I dressed in faded blue jeans, un-tucked button-up shirts and sneakers. We parked easily enough and could hear the music emanating from the warehouse building with the clarity and volume going up each time the door opened. But then we saw some of the other guests for the evening and we began to seriously question our attire. A guy and a girl strolled past. Each had long, spiked jet black hair and pale skin. They were each wearing a metal-studded black leather jacket, a tight white t-shirt, black pants and black boots. The girl’s boots had high heels. The girl had put on black lipstick and black nail polish. She had large metal earrings that matched the metal studs on her jacket. The guy had a chain metal choker necklace. Behind them were two slightly smaller guys wearing similar attire, except they wore black vests instead of leather jackets.

Between our realization that our attire was completely wrong, rumors of fights and a general sense of uncertainty, my best friend and I decided not to even attempt to enter The Bubonic that evening. And we never went back for another try. Although it was a commercial venture, we did not get the impression The Bubonic was safe. And we were probably right. We had heard there were bouncers. But bouncers didn’t sound like security to us. Bouncers seemed like people tasked to protect the club and not the guests at the club. Besides the fights, there were almost certainly drug deals happening. Part of the so-called fun associated with The Bubonic was the sense of danger. But my best friend and I had a low tolerance for danger.

When looking at teen partying, the world has evolved significantly since the 1980s. In some ways things have gotten worse and in some ways things have gotten better. With a whole new generation of controlled substances flooding the black market, the underground teen parties have gotten much more sinister and much more dangerous. But I am finding myself very optimistic about the commercial events available to this generation of teens.

Club Avalanche is a commercial enterprise that sponsors regional teen dance parties throughout the year. The parties are held at various commercial night clubs converted for teen use during the evening in question. The bar is re-stocked with strictly non-alcoholic beverages. A professional security service trained in teen management patrols the club throughout the party and enforces the club’s zero-tolerance policies. Event dates, hours, locations, themes, dress codes and even the rules of etiquette are clearly communicated online for both parents and teens to see. Valid identification proving one is fourteen to eighteen years of age is required for entrance that also involves a search. A male security guard searches the guys and a female security guard searches the girls. No contraband gets past the doors.

As I read the parent material for Club Avalanche, I am beginning to think their events are even safer than the handful of school dances that are run by teachers and volunteer parents at Hermes High School and the other schools in the community. Although Club Avalanche ‘s admissions price is more than double what a school dance costs, I would expect a higher quality experience for the teens who attend: Better sound, better lights, an actual dance floor, adequate seating and a strict “no-in-and-out” policy enforced by trained security personnel. Additionally, their events last a full four hours compared to the two and a half hour high school dances.

Lastly, Club Avalanche has an effective marketing machine. Nothing ruins a teen event more than low attendance. Club Avalanche leverages a website, Facebook, and MySpace pages, text messaging, email and old-fashioned word-of-mouth with cool graphics and regularly updated, concise communication. Their events wind up well attended by the kind of kids who really want to dance and are happy to go somewhere new and even meet and dance with people they haven’t met before in an environment that doesn’t allure them with drugs and alcohol.

A Fashion Makeover for a Teenage Guy

Philip has grown at least four inches in a very short period of time. He’s started shaving. And the muscles in his arms are rapidly catching up to his six-pack abdomen. Earlier in the year, Philip looked decidedly grunge with jeans, sneakers, sunglasses, a t-shirt and an unzipped hooded, zip-up sweatshirt falling off one or both of his shoulders. But what was decidedly grunge in September was looking boyish by January and beginning to even look effeminate by late February. At least that was the way I was seeing Philip’s standard attire appear as the body underneath went through such a rapid change in such a short period of time. The jeans, sneakers and even the sunglasses were fine. It was how he was layering his upper body that no longer looked right to me.

But Philip is no longer the child whose parents can dress him as they choose. A father or a mother can only influence such choices at this point. Control over my son’s attire would be absurd. I know it. And Philip knows it. Philip likes his growing independence as he should. And Philip, like most teenagers, is willing to defend his growing independence. In fact, those parents who insist on controlling such trivial aspects of a young adolescent’s life meet stern resistance and sometimes even rebellion. It is the stage in life in which carving out one’s independence is essential to emotional health and personal development. But I was still convinced Philip’s attire was looking more effeminate as the body beneath shed the last of what resembled a middle-school boy. And maybe he was at least wondering if I wasn’t the only person who was rapidly losing admiration for his attire of choice.

I knew I couldn’t make Philip change. But I did succeed in getting him to explore. And as long as I did not require him to change and as long as I gave him a broad range of options, he was willing to entertain my idea of updating his wardrobe. I showed him images online during the week and then took him to the mall on Saturday. The first store we visited was his first choice as opposed to my first choice. But I was just fine with that. The store catered to a variety of youthful grunge-like styles. At first, we simply needed to find his size which turned out to be medium. He brought one style of shirt to the dressing room in medium and small sizes. Once he had decided upon medium, I brought him one shirt after another to try on. All were button-up. He put them on over his dark t-shirt the same way he had put the hooded sweatshirt over his t-shirts. But somehow this looked better. The button-up shirts did not effeminately slide off his shoulder and they hugged his torso more evenly.

Philip rejected most shirts quickly. About half of them he did not even want to try on. But that was consistent with my unwillingness to propose perhaps half the styles in the store. The colors just did not look right, at least on Philip. Eventually Philip settled on a plain white button up and two with reddish cross patterns. After that success at his first choice store, I took Philip to a more upscale store that offered similar styles to the shirts he selected. He tried on about six more shirts at that store and picked two for purchase. One had a grey and black cross pattern. The other was mostly white with an elegant dark blue cross pattern. This last shirt proved his favorite. He picked out one more with a reddish-brown cross pattern, but its price tag was more than the other two shirts combined, so he got his father’s one veto of the day. While waiting to pay, Philip tried out the store’s colognes and particularly liked one of them. We added a bottle of the cologne to our purchases and nearly called it a day.

The last stop was at the health store. There we bought a protein drink to help him build muscle mass. And that was the end of our makeover shopping trip. I would call it a partial success. Philip is drinking his protein drink each day after lacrosse practice. He put on four sprays of the cologne for the final dance of the school year at Hermes High School. He wears the shirt with the dark blue cross pattern two days per week, one of the reddish cross patterns one day a week and the least effeminate of his hooded zip-up sweatshirts the other two days. I’m reasonably satisfied with the improvement. We’ll see how long it takes for him to wear the plain white or the grey and black shirt to school, if ever. And if he doesn’t, how different is Philip from his father, anyway?

Talk it up or Watch it Fail

Bradley was on the far end of the periphery of Philip’s social network. He was a reasonably popular junior and had been the second string quarterback at Conquistador High School, one of Hermes’ main rivals. For his seventeenth birthday, Bradley’s family gave him what was intended to be a very generous gift. They rented a nice facility, hired a DJ and sponsored a teen dance on Valentine’s Day evening. It was on a Sunday night, but all the schools in the area were closed Monday for President’s Day.

Bradley put up a nice invitation on Facebook. He invited all his friends and encouraged them to invite others. The event clearly stated that one did not need a formal invitation to attend. The attendee list included students from Hermes, Conquistador and Santa Carla. Since Bradley was a junior from another school and Philip was only a freshman, they were not friends on Facebook. Nonetheless, Philip recognized several friends on the attendee list, including a few of the girls who had gone snowboarding with him two weeks earlier. Philip was nervous about going. But between the event’s natural appeal and Amelia and I encouraging him, Philip decided he would go.

On the Facebook event page, over fifty people had accepted Bradley’s invitation and over seventy had said maybe. More than half were girls. I dropped Philip off a fashionable half an hour after the start time to what seemed like an overflow crowd. But my initial perception proved wrong. The teens were hanging around outside because the party inside was nearly dead. Philip estimated there were fifteen girls and thirty-five guys at the peak of the party with perhaps a total of seventy-five if one were to count those who made a brief appearance and then left. Philip managed to enjoy just two dances with the two girls he knew from snowboarding. Then after less than an hour the dancing had stopped because the girls were too embarrassed to dance on a near-empty dance floor. In short, the dance was a miserable failure and Bradley must have been crushed.

Per his request via a text message, I picked up Philip an hour before the dance officially ended. We talked about the dance and why it might have been such a failure. It wasn’t Bradley’s popularity. And it was not the appeal of the event itself. One could not fault Bradley and his family for not offering alcohol to minors, but that would have clearly solved the attendance problem. And so in the end it came down to promotion. Bradley simply did not invite enough guests and most importantly he did not talk up the party enough—if at all. Philip’s own reluctance to attend the party was anecdotal evidence enough of this problem.

Understanding Bradley’s mistake in getting people to attend was important. At least it was important in my mind. Philip’s own birthday event, a party that had no DJ and no special facility was scheduled for the following week. The appeal was only a backyard campfire and the chance to hang out with one another. Philip added a mere five people to his Facebook guest list and telephoned just two girls he knew who did not have Facebook accounts. Beyond that, Philip was not comfortable promoting his party.

Philip’s best friend from Oak Hills Charter School, Joshua, arrived right at the beginning of the party. But Joshua’s sister Debbie was grounded and did not join them. Philip and Joshua hung out by the campfire with a CD playing a mix of alternative and hip-hop. Forty-five minutes into the party, the moment of fashionable lateness, Vienna arrived with her best friend and two guys Philip considered friends. Nonetheless, that party was still three to five people short of critical mass. The group of six hung out by the campfire enjoying one another’s company, but the group conversation started to die after about half an hour. Philip suggested they go inside and watch an instant movie. That bought them the length of the movie. But after that Philip was out of ideas and suggested they call it a night just an hour before the scheduled end to the party.

Half the people who had said they were coming to Philip’s party did not come because they decided to go to a basketball game. And none of the people who had said maybe came. Had it not been for Vienna, the party would almost certainly have been only Philip and Joshua. As the evening progressed, I understood why so many parents turn a blind eye toward alcohol at teen parties. But that is not an option we are going to seriously consider. What it means is that until Philip is comfortable actively promoting his parties, there is no point in having another. The days of Amelia or I contacting the parents of Philip’s peers to ensure they attend his parties are behind us. It is up to Philip to make his own social life happen. We’ll have to see how that plays out. At least Philip did not suffer Bradley’s humiliation.

Bold Moves - Little Result

It would be nice if Philip could speak openly enough with Erica to suggest taking some time to get to know one another better and be prepared for whatever her response. But such things are rare among young adolescents. Instead, they face a tough, highly-charged social environment. If an interested guy succeeds in getting a girl he knows to speak privately, he may only have a short window in which he must boldly ask her out. While girls sometimes ask out guys, they usually do something subtle with the hope of getting a particular guy’s attention. Girls drop cautious hints. The hints always carry a comfortable degree of plausible deniability. If the girl were to be called out on her words or actions, she would have a valid excuse that had nothing to do with her having interest in the guy in question. The guys in turn seek opportunities to test the waters before they plunge forward asking a girl out. There is no more humiliating prospect to a young adolescent guy than asking out a girl and being rejected hands down. Young adolescents add complexity to this awkward dance by taking steps to evoke jealousy. Jealousy is the weapon of choice girls but also guys rely upon if the true interest is not behaving in a way that demonstrates a satisfactory level of interest. The goal is to force the other’s hand into some kind of action that demonstrates interest.

Shortly after Philip had resolved to ask Erica out, he was shocked to learn she had agreed to go to the Winter Formal with another guy, Aidan. Philip knew Aidan reasonably well. Aidan was tall, handsome and athletic. He was also one of the guys who constantly hovered close to Erica. Aidan and Erica were certainly friends. They had known one another for years. And as such, there had been plenty of time and interaction for Aidan to secure Erica as his girlfriend if she were willing. Despite his disappointment, Philip was reasonably certain Aidan was not a true competitor for Erica’s heart. But it didn’t keep Philip from feeling at least a little bit jealous. And perhaps that was Erica’s intention all along. If so, it was a bold move.

At the dance itself, Philip quickly confirmed Erica and Aidan had no developing romance. Erica was dancing with plenty of guys besides Aidan. Philip followed her example and likewise enjoyed dancing with multiple girls. Eventually, he danced with Erica. It was one of those semi-intimate hip-hop dances. Erica accepted. Philip came back and danced with Erica multiple times that evening but tried to be cautious about asking her to dance too often.

The final song of the evening was a dreamy slow dance. Philip had planned to skip this dance but then he saw Erica alone halfway through the final song. Where was Aidan? If you were my date for this dance Erica, Philip thought, I would not be missing in action during the final song of the evening. And then Philip made a bold move of his own and asked Erica to dance. It echoed back to the very first school dance of the year, during which the two had shared a dreamy extended embrace on the dance floor during the final song of the evening. But this was different. Even if Aidan was nowhere in sight, Erica had still agreed to be Aidan’s date. Everyone would see Erica dancing with someone other than Aidan during the final song. Erica stared back at Philip and answered slowly, “Uhhhhmm … I have … a date.” She smiled awkwardly and then walked away, presumably in search of Aidan. Philip turned around as well and found himself facing a cute, outgoing sophomore girl he had met in line heading into the dance. He asked the girl to dance and the two shared what was left of the final song of the evening. Perhaps Erica was bothered. Philip first underscored the fact that her date was absent at the end of the evening and then bounced back quickly and easily by slow dancing with another girl.

The day after the formal dance, Philip discovered Erica had unfriended him on Facebook. It was another bold move. Was it a prank Erica’s sister had played? If not, what was Erica doing? She could have been angry with Philip. Or she could have done it in a moment of jealousy. Or she could have done it to see how and how quickly Philip would respond. Either way, the gauntlet had been cast. Philip let Monday pass. But on Tuesday Philip made the bold move. He spoke to Erica about the matter, and she feigned ignorance. Erica wasn’t angry. And Philip had let her know he’d seen it only shortly after it had happened. The secret message she delivered was returned. Despite all the boldness, little was accomplished. And maybe that is the problem with making bold moves in high school.

A Vacation from School Work, Peek-a-Boo and Other Teen Drama

Winter break from public school descended onto Hermes one week before Christmas. Philip and Chloe have been enjoying two whole weeks plus one additional Friday off. For Philip, it has not just been about vacationing from school work. He has also been vacationing from all the teen drama he has been experiencing at Hermes High School.

And the drama was certainly high leading up to the winter break. For Philip, the drama mostly came from Erica, the extremely popular girl. She had begun behaving differently toward him. He was catching more looks. Chloe and I even witnessed some of those looks. On Wednesday, eight days before winter break, I picked up Chloe when her school let out and then headed over to Hermes High School to pick up Philip. With Philip in the front seat and Chloe in the back seat, we were inching our way out of the Hermes High School parking lot behind a long caravan of parents and teen drivers when Philip leaned toward me and said, “That’s her.”

“What do you mean ‘her’,” I asked.

“That’s ‘her’ right in front of us,” Philip answered. At first all I saw was a guy driving a truck in front of us. But then I could see movement in the passenger seat. A girl was slouching down as if hiding from us. And then she turned around, raised her head and took a quick look at us before dropping down quickly like a puppet in a child’s television show—exit stage down. This repeated several times and started to become comical. Philip waved and then she ducked. The next time both Philip and I waved before she retreated below the head rest. Chloe started giggling. And it was hard not to be cracking a smile. It was like Erica was playing a game of Peek-a-Boo with Philip. The driver (perhaps her older brother) turned to the right and spoke to her and then turned all the way to the left to look back at us. Her face appeared again between the two seats and then quickly retreated. At the end of the driveway we were both signaling to turn right. I decided to give Erica some relief by allowing an oncoming car to take a left turn to put an extra car between us and the truck.

The following day, Erica approached Philip’s table of guys toward the end of their lunch break. “Hey. Did you hear that Daniel broke up with Layla?” she asked the group, while standing closer to Philip than anyone else.

“No. That’s really sad though,” Philip answered.

Unexpectedly, one of Philip’s friends piped up, “Hey Erica. I’ve got a question for you. Are you friends with Philip?”

There was a long awkward silence before Erica answered slowly and cautiously, “… eeehhh … yyyeeeaaahhh …” And Philip quickly said yes in agreement to ease the tension.

“That makes sense,” the guy recovered. “You’re both friends with like everybody.” After that, Erica made a quick exit. But it was this final act of flirtation that catalyzed Philip’s resolve to ask out Erica.

But it may also have been what catalyzed Erica to either lose interest in Philip or at least become more cautious with him. During the time that was left of school before the winter break, Philip either couldn’t find Erica or couldn’t get her to slow down long enough for him to get to his asking-out words. Finally, on the following Wednesday, Philip learned that Erica had agreed to go to the winter formal on an as-friends basis with another guy. With that revelation, Philip decided to wait until after the winter formal to resume his pursuit of Erica.

That Friday morning, the first day of winter break, Philip slept until noon. He spent most of the afternoon in his pajamas. When I asked if he had any plans to get together with his friends, he said he wanted to just rest for a few days. And the pattern continued. His video game playing temporarily returned to eighth grade levels. Christmas Eve arrived and when Amelia asked Philip if he wanted a shower before we went out as a family, he informed us he had not showered in a week.

I must confess I am a small bit concerned by how recluse Philip has been for almost two weeks. Other than errands and family outings, Philip has stayed at home during the entire winter break. Most days, he does not even change out of his pajamas. No friends have visited or received a visit from Philip. He may have chatted with a few via instant messaging. But there have been no phone calls. He doesn’t seem depressed. He laughs and seems to be genuinely enjoying his time with the family. Still … this isn’t how Philip usually acts.

Tonight, New Years Eve, we are going to a dance sponsored by the same group that sponsored the dances Philip enjoyed while he was attending Oak Hills Charter School. There will be plenty of pretty girls, but none from Hermes High School. My hope is Philip will ease back into his usual outgoing self while still enjoying what remains of his break from the drama of Hermes High School, especially the games of Peek-a-Boo.

Confiding too Much

Most of Philip’s friends have an irresistible urge to confide their most private thoughts. And with the advent of Facebook, his peers confide their private thoughts for all to see. A fellow lacrosse player recently had this in his status. “This really sucks. I just realized today that the girl I like is way out of my league and probably likes another guy anyway.”

Philip’s ex-girlfriend Layla is no less private. For three consecutive evenings starting the day she read Philip’s privately delivered break-up note, Layla composed and published four hundred to six hundred word Facebook notes about how she was coping with Philip ending their relationship. And then about a month later she published another five hundred word note about how she met and connected with her new boyfriend, Daniel. Like her break-up chronicles, the “new boyfriend” note contained more information than any smart parent would recommend confiding. Layla’s note included the fact that she and Philip shared the first slow dance at the first school dance which took place about two weeks after they broke up. It also included a description of how much she liked kissing her new boyfriend. And finally, she confided that she had never kissed a guy before she kissed Daniel.

The significance of the “first kiss” disclosure was not lost on Philip. Layla had effectively disclosed to the world (albeit indirectly) that she and Philip had never kissed. There were positive and negative aspects to this disclosure. On the negative side, Philip anticipated no shortage of annoying questions about his long done relationship with Layla. Why did you dance with her if you had broken up? Were you hoping to get back together? Did you really never kiss? Are you jealous of Daniel? On the positive side, Layla had disclosed to the world that her relationship with Philip had been tame. While he couldn’t verify his suspicion, it seemed to Philip that quite of number of the girls were shunning him because of his previous relationship with Layla. Layla and Daniel had been not-so-privately kissing during the morning and lunch breaks. Effectively, these girls seemed to think Philip had “used” Layla and then dumped her. Nothing could have been further from the truth, but Philip had no platform to defend himself against these unspoken accusations. But with her latest note, Layla had effectively given Philip the platform he needed to shine light on the truth of his honorable conduct with Layla. And so Philip composed the following comment to post below Layla’s note.

OK. Since I know a bunch of you are going to want to ask me a bunch of questions about Layla’s note, I’m going to answer them here so I won’t need to repeat myself.

1. Everything Layla has written about me in this and her other three notes is true.

2. That’s right. Layla and I never kissed. She and I spent the twenty-three days were dating exclusively getting to know one another.

3. Layla and I are still friends. The fact that we slow danced did not mean we wanted to get back together.

4. I’m really happy Layla and Daniel have found one another. They seem like a great match.

Despite posting his comment, Philip still got questions the next day, but he figured he got fewer than he would have otherwise. The questions came from the usual suspects: A handful of guys who thrive upon gossip. He did not get any questions from girls, but he sensed a small, guarded change in the way he was being treated by ones he suspected had been shunning him. Philip’s post was a tactical move that had the intended consequences. In contrast, most of his peers, including Layla and his friend from the lacrosse team continue to confide too much.

Keeping the Hopes Alive

Erica, the extremely popular girl, won’t be dissolving into the sea of Philip’s gal-peers any time soon. Light itself behaves differently when it touches her. Her eyes are engaging. Her smile is alluring. Her laugher is intoxicating. She is thin, toned and shapely. Inside, Erica is still a fourteen-year-old girl. She is a tangled and imbalanced mixture of maturity and immaturity, wisdom and foolishness, bravery and insecurity, kindness and cruel insensitivity. Rightly, wrongly or both, Erica is the sole owner of Philip’s young adolescent heart.

Philip knows he holds some place in Erica’s heart, but his prominence therein is a mystery to him. He catches looks, overhears perhaps intended whispers, and sometimes even witnesses her usual confidence melt in front of him. Is she single-minded or fickle? Is she working to cultivate the interest of multiple guys? Or is Philip the only one? He doesn’t know. He analyzes her words and actions endlessly.

The first school dance was on a Friday. She had held him close and tight. They had seemingly connected, singing the final song of the evening into one another’s faces. He fired off a carefully crafted note to her the day after the dance, but there was no answer. Then on Monday evening, she announced to the world via her Facebook page that she was dating Bruce, one of the football players. On Wednesday, Erica finally broke the silence between her and Philip. Philip was heading out from his final class of the day and walking with a friend. A girl's voice called out from behind him, “Phil.” Nobody calls him Phil except some of his teachers, so at first he kept walking. But there it was again, “Phil” only louder, closer, and this time the voice was more recognizable and clearly directed at him. Philip turned around and there was Erica. She was alone. Philip had never seen Erica alone before.

“Hi Erica,” he said. Philip could see his friend was in total shock at the sight of Erica behind them. Philip looked back at Erica. And for the first time he saw her looking lost and uncertain. There was a long silence as Philip waited to hear what Erica wanted to say. Her mouth opened but no words came out. He saw her inhale and then pause again. Philip had just chosen his words to break the awkward silence when one of Erica’s friends called out to her from nearby. She smiled and hurried over to her friend.

The brief exchange was all it took to keep Philip’s hopes alive. A week later, Philip saw Erica was online so he initiated a chat. They briefly chatted about wearing braces. Then Philip asked how things were going between her and the football player.

Philip: Hey whats up.

Erica: hey philip! nothing much what about yourself?

Philip: Nothing really...

Erica: Sweeeeet haha

Philip: So where were you during history?

Erica:i had an ortho appoiontment!

Philip Ohh.. so your braces are off now

Erica: no not yet, they come off in the beginning of decemberr

Philip: I still got 6 months or something

Erica: aww that sucks, i had mine on for 2 yeears

Philip: wow... So how are you and Bruce getting along ... If I can ask...

Erica: we're alright..i dont think its gonna last though

Philip: Hmmm... did something happen?

Erica: no i just really dont do well in relationships

Philip stared at the screen of his gaming laptop not knowing what to type next. Before he could decide, Erica went offline. But she had confided a secret. It was another one of those acts that kept Philip’s hopes alive. It would prove to be just one of many. The next day, Erica publicly dumped Bruce during the morning break. The relationship had lasted just ten days. The whole school knew about it by the end of lunch. But Philip had known the night before it happened. But he wasn’t going to let anyone know about his advance knowledge. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be a secret. And it is things like secrets that keep the hopes alive.

Extremely Popular Girl and the First High School Dance

If Philip’s life in Hermes were a Hollywood movie, Erica would be cast as the villain. Her popularity is off the charts. And isn’t the most popular girl always the villain in a Hollywood movie? But this is not a movie, of course. It is real life. Only the names of people and places are fictitious substitutes. Erica is a real person with real, genuine feelings. As Philip entered Hermes High School, he became aware of Erica almost immediately. Erica was the other face in just about every girl’s profile picture on Facebook. Erica—who somewhat resembles starlet Victoria Justice—devotes large amounts of energy to her hair, makeup and clothing. She seems to enjoy pressing close to someone—girl or guy—and smiling for the camera. Somehow Erica’s presence in each girl’s profile pictures makes the girl in question look better. Erica is kind, charismatic and friendly. Nearly everyone likes her. And nearly all the guys have some kind of in love interest toward her. But most are too intimidated to even talk to her. At the first school dance, Erica split her three hours on the dance floor time between just eight guys. Philip was one of them.

Philip’s first high school dance was a new experience. Gone were the beach ball rules of middle school. In my day there were fast dances and slow dances. But at Hermes High School there was one other form of dancing the kids called Durty Dancin’. For those unfamiliar, Durty Dancin' takes place during rap songs. It has the guy standing behind the girl following her dance moves. However, the guy's hands are in front of her. Cautious guys (like Philip) put their hands on the girl's midriff and leave them there. The bolder guys will imitate the girls arm and hand movements which usually means several one inch drive-bys up and down (sometimes back and forth) in front of the girl's breasts never quite touching but following their shape. There is clearly a rush for the guy regarding the possibility of the girl stumbling forward. Likewise there is clearly a rush for the girl in trusting the guy during each drive-by. There were (of course) girls on the dance floor who would guide their dance partner’s hands to make direct contact with their clothed breasts. And there was at least one guy who was trying to grope his dance partners in an unwelcome manner. After just three Durty Dances, Philip decided to take a break whenever a rap song started.

Like the school dances in my day, there were only a few slow dances. For the first slow dance, Layla cautiously approached and asked Philip to dance. He accepted. They danced without saying much, but he fulfilled his break-up promise to dance with her at upcoming dances. Later that evening Philip learned that Layla had paired off with one of the football players. The one turn-down Philip received was for the second slow dance. He asked a girl who had been on his first grade baseball team. She smiled and shook her head. By the third slow dance an intense headache came upon him. He went outside to get some air and discovered Jocelyn, Charlotte and most of the girls soccer team had completely sequestered themselves to socialize with one another rather than dance.

Finally, the last dance of the evening came. It was Journey’s Don’t Stop Believing, and it proved to be an upbeat slow dance of sorts. Having been one of the guys Erica had been willing to dance with at other times, Philip approached, tapped Erica on the shoulder and said “Would you like to dance?” Her response surprised him. Erica gave some words of acceptance and quickly grabbed hold of him. She held him tight and close. Her face was perhaps just two or three inches from his. Their arms entangled around one another, with Philip’s arms wrapped around her small waist and Erica’s arms tightly wrapped around his torso. At the chorus, they spontaneously began to sing the song to one another face to face. Philip had put on sunglasses and he kept his gaze forward the whole time.

Over those last minutes of the first high school dance, Erica completely captured Philip’s heart. As the song and the dance ended, they released one another slowly and gently. She thanked him and then scurried off to go talk with her girlfriends. He let his shaded gaze linger on her retreating figure before exiting the dance.

The following morning was Saturday. Philip sent a short email to Erica’s Facebook account thanking her for making the last dance of the evening fun. There was no response Saturday. There was no response on Sunday. Monday was a school day he did not share any classes with her and he did not see her during any of the breaks. There was likewise no response on Monday. But late Monday evening, he took a look at her Facebook account. Bruce, one of the football players, had just asked her out and Erica had accepted.

The First Teen Dance of the Summer

The hour-long dance lesson was over, and the first song of the evening was about to play. Along the edge of the dance floor, teenage girls in their favorite dresses stood tall and still. Most of the teenage girls stood in clusters speaking with one another in hushed voices. With only one exception, the teenage boys milled about with their hands in their pockets scanning the girls at the edge of the dance floor. Finally the first song began. The majority of the teenage boys immediately engaged and walked briskly toward one of the teenage girls along the edge of the dance floor. Seeing the success of their peers, the rest of the teenage boys milling about each in turn cautiously approached one of the remaining teenage girls still standing at the edge of the dance floor and found himself a dance partner.

The exception among the boys was my son Philip. He was seated in a corner chair at the very edge of the dance floor. He slowly drank down a bottled water and allowed each of the teenage boys who had been milling about to secure a dance partner. As a chaperone for the dance I watched from a distance wondering what Philip was doing. Or more specifically I wondered why he was sitting in a corner drinking from a water bottle while the rest of the boys were securing partners for the first dance. But I also realized that the gender ratio of roughly five girls for every four boys would operate in Philip’s favor no matter how long he delayed. He finished his water in one fast gulp and then stood up.

There were perhaps twelve teenage girls standing without a dance partner. These twelve remaining teenage girls deserve to be described. They were not the twelve least attractive teenage girls in the room. Instead they were the twelve most intimidating teenage girls in the room. On average they were taller. They had noticeably more refined muscle tone. None had over-applied her makeup. Their dresses were feminine and well fitting but neither girlish nor overly revealing. There was no evidence of hair product. About half had their hair pulled back with a simple barrette or ponytail tie. If there was any bashful eagerness, each kept it well hid. They stood with a quiet confidence appearing unconcerned about being passed over for the first dance of the evening. One of the twelve looked particularly intimidating. I imagined her being captain of the varsity volleyball team.

Philip seemed to have done a complete reversal. But I soon expected it was all by design. With all the other teenage boys enjoying their first dance of the evening, Philip approached the volleyball captain who was perhaps two years his senior. “Hi. I’m Philip. Would you like to dance?”

I couldn’t lip-read her response. But the volleyball captain followed Philip a few yards onto the dance floor and the two began dancing The Swing. She was perhaps three inches taller than Philip. The look on her face revealed little while the two were dancing. I imagined she was feeling a mixture of disappointment at the age and height of her dance partner and relief that she was not passed over for the first dance. Philip attempted to engage her and she politely answered his standard questions about where she lived, where she went to school and her favorite activities. But she generally stared past him rather than maintaining eye contact.

Soon the first dance was over. Philip and the volleyball captain walked to the edge of the dance floor, thanked one another for the dance, and went their separate ways. Philip grabbed a fresh water bottle and returned to his seat as the second dance began. He repeated the same pattern for several dances. At the beginning of each dance, he would wait patiently for the edge of the dance floor to be substantially cleared. Then he would approach the most intimidating looking girl he had not yet danced with and invited her to dance. Philip always found agreement. Each successive dance partner proved less impassive and more engaging than the previous.

From the middle to the end of the evening, Philip was mainly dancing with the girls whose age and height more closely matched his own. By then even the most awkward teenage girls were comfortable carrying a conversation with Philip and their other dance partners. For most of the teenagers present and especially for Philip, the dance was not about finding romance. It was about developing social confidence and expanding one’s comfort zone. Philip had taken a unique and effective approach that showed both caution and boldness. It seemed to work for him. And as far as I could tell he had fun doing it.

As I’ve reflected on what I observed during the first teen dance of the summer, I’ve come to respect how differently Philip conducted himself in comparison to me at that same age. When it was me as a teenager on the dance floor many years ago, I was merely milling about with my hands in my pockets.