Auntie SparkNotes: I Wish I’d Said No When He Asked Me Out

Dear Auntie SparkNotes,

A few weeks ago, a friend gave me a note during Spanish. It was the typical stupid teenager note:

Will you go out with me?
_ Yes
_ No

I’m a freshman, and I’d never been asked out. I thought about it for the rest of Spanish class, and my stomach felt weird, like maybe I wanted to throw up. I told myself it was in a good way. I didn’t know. When class ended, I walked over to him and nodded. Said “OK” even though I had to force it out. He smiled at me. Then he put his arm around my shoulder.

What the Filius Flitwick was my immediate thought.

Spanish was the last class of the day, so we went our separate ways.

Over the next few days, he started hugging me. Two days after he asked me out he said “love you” when we left to go to different classes.

He gave me a Ringpop on the last school day before valentines. I didn’t know we were supposed to do that, it had only been a few days. I happened to have a little sandwich bag with a muffin inside. I gave him that.

He Facebooked our relationship. I accepted. My two girlfriends saw the message and wondered why the Helga Hufflepuff I didn’t tell them.

He brought pocky sticks to school. He asked if I wanted to play the pocky game with him. I said no thank you. It continued on like that for the next week or so. Him hugging me, me freezing up. My friends not noticing how uncomfortable I was when they were sitting right next to me.

Then my period started last weekend. He didn’t bring pocky on Monday, which was weird. I mentioned how much I wanted chocolate during lunch. I kind of implied why I wanted chocolate. He nodded, and we didn’t say anything. Then, the next day, he brought me a box of thin mints. I was so happy, and I gave him a hug and said thank you and all that stuff.

Yesterday he held my hand during lunch, and kissed my cheek. I felt like I wanted to throw up. I avoided him for the rest of the day. I went to the bathroom and scrubbed my cheek with soap and water. I did the same with my hand. Two of my sophomore friends asked me what was wrong. I was on the verge of crying. I told them I was ok. I wasn’t. I hid in the handicapped stall for another 10 minutes. I felt miserable.

Finally I told one Amy, of my freshmen friends, about the whole thing. I felt bad about the idea of breaking up with him, because he was in my circle of friends and he was giving me stuff when I knew he was on assisted lunch.

She told me I should tell him to back off. When he took my hand on the way back to the Spanish classroom, I asked him to please not hold my hand. It was awkward. I wasn’t sure what to say.

I talked to Amy again today, and she told me she was proud of me for standing up for myself. I told her that I wish I hadn’t said yes when he asked me out. She told me I needed to break up with him. I agreed with her.

We go to a special public school with harder curriculum. There are two types of students: lottery and essay. No one wants to admit that they’re lottery.

He’s lottery. His dad’s in jail. His twin sister is in the 8th grade. He has no motivation. He wears a beanie and fingerless gloves. And he asked me to come over to his apartment (I managed to say no to that one, thank Godric Gryffindor). He’s asked me to see the Deadpool movie with him and his older friend from church twice now. I didn’t say anything. I don’t want to see a movie with him. I know he’ll try to kiss me.

I’m 14, Auntie. I don’t know how to break up with someone, and he’s scaring me. Amy says it’s not fair to me to be miserable for the rest of the school year until he gets kicked out for his grades. She’s right. But every time I think about it, I know I couldn’t if I was face to face with him. I wish I had a time traveling device so I could go back and say no.

And you wouldn’t be the first, sweet pea.

Which is what I want to tell you, first and foremost: that what you’re feeling is normal and natural. Everyone, even grown-ass adults, dreads having to make the “It’s not you, it’s me” speech to a person they’ve just realized they never should have agreed to date in the first place. Disappointing people is not fun, and asserting yourself is not easy. And for you, who are very young and very inexperienced, your first time having to do these things was always going to be a challenge. Breakups are hard. It’s okay to be nervous.

HOWEVER.

It’s also not okay to demonize the person you’re dating, and paint him as bad and scary and unworthy of respect, just because you’re intimidated by the prospect of ending a relationship for the first time.

Your boyfriend’s low GPA, less-than-fortunate family, and poor taste in beanies do not make him less of a person, or less deserving of basic decency from you, especially when (by your own description) he’s been nothing but sweet, generous, affectionate, and respectful to you throughout your brief relationship. A guy who asks you out with a polite note, buys you chocolate with money he doesn’t have, readily and openly tells you how much he likes you, and backs off without argument when you assert your boundaries is not scary, Sparkler—and when you claim otherwise in order to justify your decision not to tell him the truth and keep leading him on, you’re being both disingenuous and unfair.

So rather than looking for excuses to treat this guy less-than-awesomely, this is the part where you get brave and admit that hey, you made a mistake. You agreed to date someone you didn’t like that way. It happens. It’s okay. But since you’re not happy with your decision, and since the guy in question unfortunately seems to like you very much, it’s pretty urgent at this point that you gut up and say (or send a note/text/Facebook message that says) “I don’t want to go out with you anymore. I’m sorry.”

Side note: You don’t have to offer any explanation beyond that—an apology and straightforward “no more” are enough, albeit a bit abrupt—but if you want to, you could add that you’ve realized you’re not ready to date. (Which seems to be the case, by the way.)

Other side note: Whatever you say, please keep your opinion of this guy’s jailed relatives, lottery student status, and/or taste in hats to yourself. Making him feel bad for who he is isn’t necessary, or nice.

And I know, I know, that this is hard. The kindest thing to do is also, occasionally, the difficult thing — and that’s also usually when doing the kind thing is most important. Not just for the sake of your happiness, but for the sake of other people’s, and perhaps most importantly for the sake of planting your karmic flag firmly on the side of decency. Remember this, Sparkler: “It’s hard” will never, ever be a valid reason not to do the right thing.

It is, however, a valid reason to have an ice cream cone immediately afterward.

Got something to say? Tell us in the comments! And to get advice from Auntie, email her at advice@sparknotes.com.
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