Dropping the Ball

Fear, for most, is a heavy emotion. In a state of fear, one can experience heightened

senses, deep breathing, profuse sweating and an accelerated heart rate. The fear I'd like to refer

to isn't the kind of fear you experience when a snarling pit bull crosses your path during a brisk

walk or the feeling you get when you look down from a high point, such as a cliff or bridge. I'm

referring to the fear that, I'm sure, most adolescent boys experience when they attempt to interact

with the opposite sex. More specifically, when attempting to ask a girl to a dance or to other

social events. Nonetheless, all those symptoms factor into this kind of fear; something I'm all too

familiar with.

The fear started to build up the month of my high school's winter formal. This event

came around every year in January. The event is similar to prom, only the importance is not all

that significant, yet it still represented a big part of school spirit. It gave us boys and girls the

opportunity to mingle without much parent observation. Around this time I had my sights set on

a particular girl I had been eyeing the whole semester. Her name was Sophia. This petite, brown-

eyed betty had it all. She was intelligent, witty and, of course, very pretty. I first met Sophia in

my biology class. We had assigned seating and she happened to be seated right next to me.

For the most part, we got along. Aside from the normal class activities and lab

assignments, we didn't have much conversation. Although, I think most of that was my fault. For

all the clever remarks she would make in reference to our dull lab work, or the attire of our

teacher, I had simple and boring nods or gestures. I was a relatively quiet individual at that time

of my life. Overall, I was a shy and nerdy kid, especially with the girls. So it seemed for the

moment that our personalities clashed. Even though Sophia and I interacted often, I still couldn't

bring myself, to be myself. I felt she was too pretty to be associated with me.

So as the year progressed, I felt my affinity for Sophia grow and grow. With that also

a swell of fear of doing or saying anything that would make me look as if I was trying too much

to impress her. My past attempts to get close to girl always seemed to backfire. For example, I

once tried to dance with a girl on a Teen Night dance floor and I got one of those 'talk to the

hand' gestures. Quite embarrassing, I must say. That moment not only strengthened my fear of

girls, but my confidence also took altogether. That explains the root of my caution and reserve in

my daily dealings with Sophia, or with most other females for that matter.

So the countdown began. The winter formal was exactly two weeks away. I was

becoming more and more nervous with each passing opportunity in which I could have