My First Girl Friend Might Have Actually Been My First Girlfriend

I grew up in the early 2000s as a major tomboy. On TV, my representation included Max from The Suite Life of Zack & Cody, who now, watching as an adult, I can confidently guess was probably just queer (much like the actress who played her, Alyson Stoner). Much like Max, I was young and queer (though I didn’t realize it at the time) and mostly hung around boys. Although I had a few female friends in elementary school, I didn’t start to gravitate more towards girls until I was in middle school. And in seventh and eighth grade, I had a best friend who had everyone around us questioning our sexuality.

Looking back on our friendship, it seems that this may have been one of those naive blindspots in my childhood where I couldn’t see the rainbow-colored writing on the wall. I chalked our closeness up to being good friends but even in middle school it seemed that everyone else knew something I didn’t. Although I’ve never questioned the nature of our friendship, a recent Instagram reel and Twitter post made me take a look at things from a different lens. And made me re-evaluate — like many things in my life — the queer signs surrounding our relationship that I overlooked at the time.

Our Origin

Tifa and I met in seventh grade during gym class. We gravitated towards one another due to our similar sense of humor and the fact that we both genuinely enjoyed playing sports during our fifty minute class. Our natural ease with one another caused us to expand our friendship from gym class to outside our school walls. I attended sleepovers at her house where we called boys and she introduced me to the movie Bebe’s Kids. We went to the movies together to watch Hunger Games and the 3D version of Beauty & the Beast (which we were then kicked out of for movie hopping after it was over). I even went with her to church on a week night and watched her rehearse a praise dance for Easter.

In eighth grade, our closeness grew more obvious to our classmates as we both made our school’s basketball team in the winter. During our pre-season pep rally, we made a show of getting our basketball T-shirts printed with coordinated nicknames on the back and when my name and number was called for me to present myself in front of the whole eighth grade class, Tifa shouted the loudest out of everyone. She kept the same energy during basketball games if she happened to be on the bench while I was playing. And when we rode back to our school on the bus, exhausted after away games, she would fall asleep with her head on my shoulder and I would do my best to stay as still as possible so I didn’t wake her.

In the spring, we transitioned from the basketball team to track & field, where I did shot put and discus and she competed in the hurdles event. By spring semester, she had made the decision to move into my locker, despite the fact that her locker was closer to her classes. One fine Monday morning she shoved her books into my locker as I was putting my backpack away and then proceeded to ask me for the combination. I gave it to her and from then on, we were locker buddies.

She took a liking to a navy blue jacket I loved to wear and asked if she could wear it in exchange for her track hoodie that had her nickname printed on the back. I agreed and from then on, everyone would see her name on me as I walked down the halls and see my signature oversized jacket on her as she walked down the halls.

The Breakup

One day our harmonious pattern hit a roadblock. I got to school and immediately went to put my backpack in my locker and that was when I noticed how empty the locker was. Tifa’s books were all missing and my jacket was back on the hook, as if it had never left. On the shelf was a note written on a page torn from a spiral notebook.

I can’t remember the exact words but it went something like this:

Dear Tae-Tae,

Things aren’t working out so I decided to move my stuff back into my locker. I washed your jacket and put it back for you. I just think it’s best that we don’t talk anymore.

Love,

Tifa

After reading the letter again, I couldn’t help but smile. I had known Tifa long enough to know that she had an affinity for attention and I knew that this was one of those attention-seeking moments because nothing had been wrong between us. After reading the note, I closed my locker and looked in the direction of Tifa’s classes where she was standing across the hall, smirking at me, as if confirming my thoughts. I called her name but she turned and walked into her classroom as if she didn’t hear me. I wasn’t worried though; I knew we would be talking again by the end of the day.

What I didn’t anticipate, however, was what would come during sixth period.

The Allegations

I went about my day normally, with little worries about Tifa’s note. When I got to my sixth period algebra class, a classmate of mine tapped me on my shoulder.

“I didn’t know you and Tifa were dating,” she said.

“We’re not,” I responded, feeling a little confused.

“Well yeah, not anymore, she told me you two broke up,” she explained.

I laughed. “Yeah, like a friend break up, but it’s not for real.”

“It’s okay if you swing that way; I won’t judge.”

“I’m not gay!”

At this point, I was starting to understand that other people saw me and Tifa’s relationship differently than I did. And if I’m being honest, I was a little angry. Why would Tifa tell people that we broke up? And why would she not correct them about their assumptions?

Despite the fact that Tifa’s gesture had all of the drama of a woman realizing her worth and moving out of the home she shared with her abusive partner in a romance movie, I hadn’t pieced together that others would see our “break up” as anything other than platonic.

At the end of the school day, I went to find Tifa and confronted her.

“You know what Jane asked me? She asked if we were dating!”

Tifa laughed at this and I could tell she already knew.

“You told her we were dating?”

“I told her we broke up,” she corrected.

“But that implies that we were dating,” I said.

Tifa found the whole thing amusing and told me not to worry about it. And just as I expected, she moved her things back into my locker. And having her speaking to me again was enough for me to forget my annoyance.

Heartbreak at a School Dance

Toward the end of eighth grade, the biggest event of the school year was set to take place: the eighth grade dance. At the time, Tifa had been talking to a guy who she had met at a track meet. He ran track for another school and I assumed the two of them would be attending the dance together. Most of my other friends also had dates so I asked my best guy friend, Ali, to go with me. He said yes but then a few days before the dance, stated that he couldn’t attend because of some family issues.

I was disappointed, but I still chose to attend the dance, date or not. To my surprise, when I arrived, Tifa was also there with no date in sight.

Despite my date cancelling on me last minute, I had a great time. I drank punch and ate snacks, danced with my friends, and at some point snuck away with a few friends to roam the halls that felt forbidden to us after normal school hours. At some point, I returned to the gym and a slow song was playing. That was when everyone started pairing up with their dates and I caught sight of Tifa from across the room. She had her arms on the shoulder of a male classmate of ours, who we both knew had a crush on her, but up until that point, she had never given him the time of day.

I remember the burning feeling in the pit of my stomach as I watched the two slow dance and I was able to acknowledge what the feeling was: jealousy. But at the time, I assumed the jealousy stemmed from watching my friend be able to slow dance with a guy when I had no one to dance with. But Tifa wasn’t the only one of my friends caught in an embrace with a boy under the dim gym lighting. But for whatever reason, she was the only one I remember seeing. And the jealousy I felt when I saw her dancing with a boy is the only feeling I remember in that moment.

After the song was over, Tifa made eye contact with me and came and grabbed both of my hands as the song “What Makes You Beautiful” by One Direction started playing. The two of us jumped excitedly to the whole song, hand in hand, and much like with my annoyance at the whole dating scandal, I felt my jealousy melting away in that moment.

Looking Back as an Adult

As an adult, there are many memories I have that clearly pointed to the fact that I was bisexual, that at the time I had overlooked. I didn’t fully come to terms with my sexuality until I was twenty-three despite the fact that so many things in my life had been a glaring sign of my truth. And it seemed that many people around me saw the signs clearly for what they were.

In retrospect, the disapproving look my middle school math teacher had given me when she remarked that the name on the back of my hoodie wasn’t mine and I proudly told her that it was Tifa’s, has a new meaning. I used to think she just had some problem with the fact that I wasn’t wearing my own clothes, but now I see that this may have been one of my earliest experiences with homophobia.

And now, it makes sense to me why my teammate had asked if it was fun getting to be in the locker room with Tifa. Because she believed that Tifa and I were dating so it must be fun to get to see her change in front of me.

And now as a twenty-five year old, I can better understand what me and Tifa’s relationship was. Of course we were best friends, but we were also two girls who had been raised in Christian households and had a healthy attraction to boys. We were two girls who maybe didn’t understand the full range of our feelings because we had never witnessed them played out in anyone else in our lives. And so, we became two girls who developed a close relationship with one another and attached the labels to it that made sense to us. And maybe, Tifa just liked to make jokes about us being lovers or maybe she had a little more insight than I did. Regardless, I’m proud to say that Tifa was my first real girl friend. And Tifa, if you’re reading this and you feel the way that I do — that our relationship may have been a little more than platonic — well then, I’d also be proud to call you my first girlfriend.

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Thanks for reading!

-Chanté