Every month or so, my cousin and I would call and update each other on everything going on in our lives, specifically about boys. This 
tradition has existed for as long as I can remember. 
 

My vote for cutest boy of April: That one guy who’s kind of nice to me 
in science 
 

The guy was pretty nice. We worked on a group project together, 
and while his friends were giving me all the work to do, he let me 
borrow his scented markers for the project. I also needed to choose 
a different boy of the month because one of my friends has a crush 
on the last one I chose. 
My cousin, of course, had her own vote as well. 
 

Her vote for cutest boy of April: Daniel Whatshisname 
 

He’s not horrible to look at, and he even bought her a bracelet 
from the Dollar Tree. That’s really corny, but I guess it’s romantic? 
I don’t think that beats the smelly markers, though. She says that it 
totally beats the markers. She said that they were even double-dating 
on the swings last Monday. 
 

Looking at the boy I chose, I was wondering why my reasoning for 
choosing guys was so different. I thought sharing smelly markers 
was a pretty cool thing to do, which is why I like him now, but she’s 
talking about going out on dates during recess, and I just don’t see 
the point in that. I didn’t think that you were supposed to like them 
as soon as you met them, but what do I know? Time passes on. 
 

My vote for cutest boy of August: This guy, who can make a flute out 
of a mechanical pencil 
 

This guy is annoying, the ‘pull your pigtails’ type, but he has deep 
insecurities and secrets, so he’s interesting. The other day, he asked 
if I liked boys or girls more. He sighed with relief when I said I 
didn’t care, but I’d choose boys if I had to; apparently, someone told him I was gay because I’m so indifferent. The next day, he offered to 
share his AirPods. My cousin says he’s trying to be romantic, and I 
should see where it goes. I’ll try her advice; he responds well when I 
pay attention to him.
 

Her vote for cutest boy of August: Some guy named John, I think? 
 

He was a year older than her, my age. Apparently, he was the new 
kid in the neighborhood, and she took a liking to him while babysitting his younger brother. They were seeing each other. She told me 
I needed to get out more and find my own guy. If she’s happy, I’m 
happy too. Still, I can’t pretend the guy doesn’t look like a scumbag. 
Apparently, they were an on-and-off thing; she got back together 
with him because he snuck her out to go stargazing, she thought it 
was romantic, I thought it was dangerous. 
Later on, she would call me in tears. She had been sneaking him in 
without her parents’ knowledge, and they found out. Turns out he 
had also been taking advantage of her, forcing her to do things she 
didn’t want to do. The phone in my hand made me feel helpless; all 
I wanted to do that night was hold her and tell her it was going to 
be ok. But what could a middle school girl living 45 minutes away 
do? That New Year’s Eve, I convinced her to break up with him. I 
told her that he scared me. 
 

My vote for cutest boy of October: This guy, I share a couple of classes 
with 
 

I had talked to him one day during a class discussion. The next 
day, I was miraculously sitting with him in all of our shared classes. 
Everyone said he had the hots for me and that I needed to date him 
because he’s ‘the shit’. He smiles every time I talk, eyes drawn to 
me in an instant. They tell me that I’d be set for life with him; he’s a 
great choice to them, he’s a safe choice. I want to push him away. 
Her vote for cutest boy of October: N/A 
After John, she vowed never to date until after high school. I hope 
she sticks to that promise because high school boys are seriously 
not worth it. The only thing she says she misses is sex. I say that’s 
stupid, and sex is stupid; she says that I’ll understand at some point. but that thought makes me want to puke. 
 

I go on one date with the guy everyone is so convinced I should 
end up with for the rest of my life. I pay for everything and leave 
early. That night, I realized how boring the safe option was. I can 
only talk about diets and weight training for so long before I can no 
longer hide my distaste. On Christmas morning, he asked me about 
what I got for Christmas. He told me that he had gotten a new set 
of weights and some workout therapy cream. I had gotten Animal 
Crossing. He kept trying to ask me out, and while he did that and 
I rejected each time, I debated on whether I should just start going 
after girls instead. The first and only person to kiss me was a girl, 
and it was on the cheek. One of my friends ended up dating him instead. She told me that she never said anything because she thought 
I would be mad. I was madder about the fact that I had acted like 
a fool pretending to like him. I blocked him as soon as I heard the 
news, with a smile on my face.
 

My vote for cutest boy of December: No one. 
 

I recently saw the boy who shared his smelly markers with me 
outside of school. He was vaping and didn’t even spare me a glance. 
Some girl clung to his side, afraid that she would fall off and be forgotten. That’s what all of these girls are so afraid of: being forgotten. 
I want to hold them all and just cry. I’ve realized why all of my votes 
have felt empty; they lacked authenticity. I was just like them, afraid 
of being forgotten and left behind. I didn’t want to be left to rot just 
because I couldn’t find a boy to like. However, now I realize that I 
can just embrace this ‘rot’ and let this train pass me by. I don’t need 
to force myself to enjoy someone’s company as often; I relish in that 
thought. 
 

I hope other girls who feel the same way will be able to have the 
same realization. It’s odd recognizing now just how little I liked 
most of these people; I’ve never truly loved a person romantically. 
I have plenty of love to go around, and perhaps I throw that word 
around too casually. What’s the point in not sharing your love with 
someone else? The stranger on the side of the road who pointed out 
a lucky penny to me, I love them. The gaggle of random girls huddled in a bathroom, helping each other with makeup and hair, I Iove them. My family and friends, I love them. 
Her vote for cutest boy of December: Him. 
 

I hate him the most. Initially, the most detail she told me was that 
he was a cute guy from work. What she failed to mention was that 
he was a 25-year-old who still lived with his parents. She told me 
he was a silly little work crush she had. It was not as silly when she 
told me he took her to a parking lot an hour away from where she 
lived, after her curfew. 
 

She told me that he told her she was ‘mature for her age’. I told her 
that he probably says that to all the teenage girls he talks to. After I 
told her that, she switched the topic. 
 

I wish I could say that I miraculously changed her view of everything at this point, but I didn’t. She just wasn’t ready to accept the reality of it, and no matter how much you can push someone to do something, they have to be the one to do it. That night, I just held her and listened. I held her a little tighter because God knows what would happen to her the next time we talked. Maybe that’s what matters, even though we both have different ideas of what it means to be loved, we’re both just scared little girls trying to fend for ourselves