in defense of being delusional
I met my first boyfriend when I was 14. We were on a Model United Nations trip to New York. I had just gotten my first DSLR and I was constantly trailing behind everyone, taking pictures. Here is a picture from that trip:
It was really special. It was my first time in New York, and I decided that I would definitely move here one day. I distinctly remember the brown coat with the fur trim—my mom had gotten it for me, and it was the first winter coat I’d ever had that wasn’t embarrassing or ill-fitted.
My ex-boyfriend and I didn’t start dating until around eight months after, but I decided that I liked him on that trip. He was the one who waited when I lagged behind, always making sure I caught up with the rest of the group. He was really thoughtful, and made jokes, and had an experimental streak (I remembered today that he first tried MDMA when he was like 15? I didn’t even know what MDMA was until I was in college). He was three and a half years older than me and thought of me as a kid. Age gaps are a bigger deal in high school, I guess.