Our flushed faces would have been right next to each other, our warm arms pressed together, our eyes close enough to take in each other’s every blink, our breath on each other’s faces.
I was blown away by it, Adam. A beautiful start to my day to read something so brilliantly written. Right into the heart of that youthful heart. And that ending!
She was too fearful. It would have been doable if you’d been outside in the sun. In the cellar, out of the protective aura of her parents, such an invitation was too transgressive. Sex, about which we knew nothing definitive at all, was terrifying. Boys, however appealing, were a threat; they wanted something from you
Ah man! What a moronic move! She had the odds and anonymity in her favour… she probably kicked herself for this for a weekend and then went about her business. Youth is wasted on the young 🤣
Beautiful-- you were magnificent dude I hope you never lost that elegant ballsiness! Congrats on the move and congrats on making the experience;assuming you did) and congrats on writing it do well and true!
Wow. 6th grade. My 11 year old self all the way through to my current 62 year old self, all my selves, are impressed with your bravery and smoothness. It was a James Bond move.
I don’t know how smooth. I imagine myself with my glasses fogged up and tilted sideways on my nose. But courageous, yes.
I once dared myself to ask out the “next ten women I found attractive.” The results were both ecstatic and shameful. Ted Williams would have tipped his cap to me, but no one would want to live through what the woman in the 7-11 said to me.
“Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the face.”
Wow. A home run. And as much as “when the tide is… really, really out” begins the plunge into the reader’s heart, “this will only hurt for a moment” is the sword arm drawing back. Magnificent.
I have been fascinated by the range of responses to the story, but certainly not by their intensity. This is a Rorschach story. We are all both shores of this tidal ocean and we all recognize the dance. I think we all have both a male and a female heart. But people clearly locate themselves differently. Though we never really talked about it on our book trip, the courageous way of the male heart includes - no, absolutely requires - the possibility of loss, of annihilation, of 'that's-so-sweet' and 'I-had-no-idea,' of the deep and permanent wound. The imperative from my book recommendation from that trip could be neatly summarized as "Push the chalk heart. Again."
I think that the daring is drowning out the pain residue because we know that we are not going to live forever, and it is not pain, loss, rejection or even betrayal that terrifies us the most; what terrifies us the most is missing our lives. It's never having pushed the fragile chalk in the first place. We don't want to be safe. We want to be alive. This is a story about being alive.
It’s not a story about Adam. It’s not “Adam’s Heart.” It’s about being carved by the feminine- and this is a universal thing. There isn’t a male reader that hasn’t been carved. And vice versa for the women, if in different ways. But the early cuts in the chalky hearts are defining scars and afterwards- when the tide is really out - there’s a permanent wariness if not distrust.At that point you’re either a fool or you haven’t graduated from boyhood. I can’t canvas the universe but the smart money’s on it.
“I moved it with the confidence required to slide an entire pile of roulette chips towards the dealer or glide an obscured bishop into position to take the opponent’s queen.”
In the grand scheme of things , it didn’t matter if you made the move and lost. You still won the game. First archive in the ‘card catalog’ of life. Invention by inspiration. Pretty respectable for a hormone infused mind of a sixth grade male .
I’d bet she’s never forgotten you.
And that she regrets the answer she gave you.
Well, I'm sure she's been on the other side of that equation. We all know it.
If the happier outcome had come to be, I'm confident she would have.
I was there - more than once when I was little older - and said ‘no’ driven by fear that outweighed curiosity's and inclination.
Looking back I regret it -
Brilliant. Wow.
Thank you, Ros – and your kind words in the restack as well.
I was blown away by it, Adam. A beautiful start to my day to read something so brilliantly written. Right into the heart of that youthful heart. And that ending!
Thank you, Ros. 🙏
Aaah.
She was too fearful. It would have been doable if you’d been outside in the sun. In the cellar, out of the protective aura of her parents, such an invitation was too transgressive. Sex, about which we knew nothing definitive at all, was terrifying. Boys, however appealing, were a threat; they wanted something from you
I meant to add, something mysterious she wasn’t ready for.
I love reading into your heart, hearing from the male side of experiences I only know from across the divide. Wonderful writing!
Thank you, Elizabeth. There’s a divide, but writing may be a sort of demilitarized zone. At times.
You kept me in suspense the whole time!
Such a sweet story!
Loved it!
Thank you, Mary Lou!
Ah man! What a moronic move! She had the odds and anonymity in her favour… she probably kicked herself for this for a weekend and then went about her business. Youth is wasted on the young 🤣
And wisdom on the old 😆. Sigh.
Beautiful-- you were magnificent dude I hope you never lost that elegant ballsiness! Congrats on the move and congrats on making the experience;assuming you did) and congrats on writing it do well and true!
He can’t say it, but I, his brother, can: he never lost it.
it's good to know and good to know that his brother is in his corner!
Yes, it is.
May I never need it again! No more chess for me.
It’s funny. I’ve remembered her move more than my own, but sometimes even getting to a NO is an accomplishment. Thanks for reminding me. 😂
How wonderful! And the fall back into that young adulthood…so bittersweet and real.
Definitely real! Could have used more sweet and tumbling into the couch. I file this under “If it’s not a good time, it’s a good story”
You went for it. AND put the ball in her court. Big props to 6th grade Adam.
I did go for it. Might have gotten a little over my skis there. Or she couldn’t get up onto hers.
Wow. 6th grade. My 11 year old self all the way through to my current 62 year old self, all my selves, are impressed with your bravery and smoothness. It was a James Bond move.
I don’t know how smooth. I imagine myself with my glasses fogged up and tilted sideways on my nose. But courageous, yes.
I once dared myself to ask out the “next ten women I found attractive.” The results were both ecstatic and shameful. Ted Williams would have tipped his cap to me, but no one would want to live through what the woman in the 7-11 said to me.
“Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the face.”
Wow. A home run. And as much as “when the tide is… really, really out” begins the plunge into the reader’s heart, “this will only hurt for a moment” is the sword arm drawing back. Magnificent.
The response to this is different than I expected. I think the daring is drowning out the residue of rejection (betrayal?)
I have been fascinated by the range of responses to the story, but certainly not by their intensity. This is a Rorschach story. We are all both shores of this tidal ocean and we all recognize the dance. I think we all have both a male and a female heart. But people clearly locate themselves differently. Though we never really talked about it on our book trip, the courageous way of the male heart includes - no, absolutely requires - the possibility of loss, of annihilation, of 'that's-so-sweet' and 'I-had-no-idea,' of the deep and permanent wound. The imperative from my book recommendation from that trip could be neatly summarized as "Push the chalk heart. Again."
I think that the daring is drowning out the pain residue because we know that we are not going to live forever, and it is not pain, loss, rejection or even betrayal that terrifies us the most; what terrifies us the most is missing our lives. It's never having pushed the fragile chalk in the first place. We don't want to be safe. We want to be alive. This is a story about being alive.
It’s not a story about Adam. It’s not “Adam’s Heart.” It’s about being carved by the feminine- and this is a universal thing. There isn’t a male reader that hasn’t been carved. And vice versa for the women, if in different ways. But the early cuts in the chalky hearts are defining scars and afterwards- when the tide is really out - there’s a permanent wariness if not distrust.At that point you’re either a fool or you haven’t graduated from boyhood. I can’t canvas the universe but the smart money’s on it.
Missed it by THAT much!
I think we both did.
Thought you were going to get some. the 11 year old lover is the most noble and delicate
Be nice, Thomas.
“I moved it with the confidence required to slide an entire pile of roulette chips towards the dealer or glide an obscured bishop into position to take the opponent’s queen.”
In the grand scheme of things , it didn’t matter if you made the move and lost. You still won the game. First archive in the ‘card catalog’ of life. Invention by inspiration. Pretty respectable for a hormone infused mind of a sixth grade male .
In the grand scheme of things I would have preferred to write about rolling in the couch together. 😂
I miss those days...the childhood innocence and discovery.
They certainly shape us. I’m amazed when people can’t remember much about their childhoods.