Summer in Harlem

Summer came and went, and I think the only rule left standing was rule number four, because of the obvious loopholes, I was practically an outlaw.

Being a teenager comes with so many rules and stipulations and I’m sure the mother of a teenage girl was the originator of said rules. Depending on who you ask, I may or may not have broken all or many of these rules in one singular Summer. Primarily because they are all wildly contradictory, unless you were the female version of David Blaine and you could bend the rules, displace the rules, or levitate past them, you were out of luck.

Rule # 1: Grow Up! You are not a little girl, but also not a woman!

Rule # 2: Get it Together! Your body and personality are developing rapidly, and you hormones are on another level!

Rule # 3: Boys will be around, don’t fall in love with the first wink sent your way!

Rule #4: Be responsible! But still be fun, but don’t have too much fun, you are only young once, and don’t grow up to fast!

Rule # 5: We trust you, but…No sneaking out, or around, or anything!

Naturally with a list of rules this long, divorced parents, and a basic knowledge of social engagement, I was running through this list like it was my job. As a teenager, my dad used to drop my friends and I off at the mall, where we would seemingly spend hours “shopping” with little to no money, hanging out and eating Auntie Anne’s pretzels in the food court. The truth is, we spent about 15 minutes total at the mall and the other 3 hours, elsewhere. Elsewhere, was navigating the city bus system to get to the boy of the Summer’s house while his mom was working, rule number five was just there for decoration I think.

This particular summer and this particular boy, was the love of my life so I thought. He was so mature, he had much more freedom than me, much more experience than me, and I was just trying to keep up. He wasn’t from the Midwest like my friends and I, he was from Harlem, the slow pace of the Midwest was probably stifling for him. But I was determined to keep his interest with the little appeal that I had. I was 98 pounds soaking wet, still in training bra territory, so sex appeal was out of the question. So any allure that I had would have to come from the shimmer of my braces. Before my best friend introduced me to Harlem, I may have had a boyfriend or two. Someone just as awkward as me that I sat with at lunch and snuck missed places kisses with, in empty hallways. The most dating experience that I had was meeting boys at the movie theater and sitting with the arm rest raised in between our seats, real spicy stuff.

My best friend lived next door to he and his family and had shown him a picture of me, let’s keep in mind that this was a hard copy photo of me, we had cell phones, but the ones that weighed about 8lbs and had no camera, no internet and had to be loaded with minutes to talk on them before 9pm. According to her, he couldn’t wait to meet me, so the expectations were high for our first meeting. Harlem and I talked on the phone daily, I mean real puppy love behavior. When we had finally arranged to meet, I wanted to look my best, but I couldn’t go to the “mall” in full formal wear, so I had to improvise. I snuck in short shorts and a thong that I swiped from Victoria Secret (sorry mom), along with a tiny top under my usual mall get up, I think this decision may have broken rules one and two simultaneously. I’m surprised that between the nerves and the layers I was not a puddle of sweat. Once we made it to the mall, we retreated to the mall bathroom to strip our layers for the big reveal.

I had done a massive amount of preparation to meet Harlem, and he walked outside shirtless wearing basketball shorts. I was too distracted to be mad at the lack of effort, a shirtless boy walking my way was next level, let alone a boy that was my over the phone boyfriend. He confidently walked over to me and without hesitation grabbed me and kissed me. I was shook, needless to say I barely paid attention to the third rule. As one might imagine, I spent most of my Summer in Harlem. Negotiating trips to the mall every weekend, sometimes a quick trip during the week when one of us finally got a car and we could provide enough gas money and boys to make sure everyone was occupied. It was the most carefree and random rule breaking that I had ever done and I don’t know how my smile on the car rides home didn’t give me away every time. No one smiles that widely over a Sbarro's pizza and a Cinnabon, well 30-something me does but that is a different issue.

Summer came and went, and I think the only rule left standing was rule number four, because of the obvious loopholes, I was practically an outlaw. My summer in Harlem was one for the books. I haven’t visited Harlem in many many years, and I can’t say that I will ever go back. I will say that most of my best memories and biggest secrets live there, maybe I will tell you more about them one day mom, I'm sure you have had your fill for today.

~END