Hayride Hookups

I have been battling with this blog post for over three hours now. Okay….so I took a little break to catch up with John Stewart and Stephen Colbert, but that’s beside the point.

I have been trying to pull out my usual wit and humor (what little of it I have) in order to discuss with you the romantic rendezvous a hayride can create. But alas, after my less than enchanting evening aboard a hayride that was void of any hay, I have nothing funny to say! And now I’m talking like Dr. Seuss.

Anyway, I spent the weekend at Turkey Hill Ranch on our annual Fall Retreat. I was on kitchen duty for most of the weekend, but managed to sneak out Saturday night to enjoy a bonfire, a smore, and a hayride.

As I sat on the hard, wooden bench, listening to my friend Amelia talk about the boyfriend that she is going to visit next weekend, I couldn’t help but recall the giddy feelings I had once felt aboard a similar vessel.

It was November in the year 2000. I had yet to turn 14, and I was sitting next to TJ*, my second “real” boyfriend (you know what I mean). We were huddled together beneath the stars, watching our breath form clouds around the hazy moonlight. He was a freshman in high school, and I was in the eighth grade. The night was perfect. He rubbed my hands between his to keep them warm.

My friend Jodie sat on my right, and the rest of the youth group was a shadowy outline in the pitch black dark. TJ and I were alone. I rested my head on the puffy shoulder of his camouflage coat (yes…people in Tennessee wear camo) and listened to thump of my own heart.

Bump bum…What if he kisses me?

Bump bum…I don’t think I want him to!

I felt his breath on my ear as he moved his face towards mine, the heat warming up my neck. I scooted closer, his skin touching mine, and I turned to face him. Slowly, our lips came together in a cold, wet peck, and his tiny whiskers stuck me like the prickly hay I was sitting on.

My first kiss is over. I believe we broke up before Christmas.

If you think I’m trying to say that all hayrides produce this type of result, you are wrong. Two years later I rejected the hand holding invitation of fine friend, only to regret it later when I discovered he made out with another girl on the next hayride. They started dating and she became jealous of my friendship with him.

We’re just friends! That’s what I said to her and to myself, though on the inside, I knew he and I both wanted more.

The year after that I dated a guy named Tyler. Why I made that choice in the first place, I’ll never know. But I accompanied him to an Octoberfest party that his friend’s parents hosted. I sat stiffly against the side of the hay wagon while he ignored me and cut up with his friends. I now realize this was foreshadowing of his Halloween heartbreak.

What I am trying to say is that hayrides have the ability to fester up that emotion that comes along when you think you might be falling for someone. It’s that mix of right and wrong; good and bad; it’s that yes and no pull of wanting something to happen, but being too afraid to let it. Eventually,l all the fighting finally explodes into a confetti that sends you over the edge, and you are forced to admit that you like this person.

It’s a crazy feeling, one that a lot of people fear. They fear it because it means letting someone else inside. And letting someone inside means you might get hurt. That person may stab you in a vulnerable spot, causing you to crumble and feel smaller than you've ever felt. On the other hand, that person might just be the one God sent to pick you back up and set you on your feet. Either way, you can’t be afraid to let yourself feel. It’s a valuable part of any relationship. In fact, it’s the part that makes you human.

*the name has been changed