I was at a three-week summer class when I experienced my first real dilemma in the area of romance and sex. No, I wasn’t vacillating between possible partners or trying to figure out whether I’m gay, straight, or bisexual; the issue was my friends’ attempts at matchmaking. While I was fine with a few jokes about my freezing cold libido, my friends wouldn’t leave it at that. They seemed determined to warm up my love life – whether I wanted their help or not.

A couple of weeks into the summer class, a new friend of mine invited his friends from home to join a few of us at a movie theater. Not being outgoing or good with new people, I had planned on avoiding eye contact with the strangers and staying within my little sphere of comfort. This, however, was not going to fly; my friends decided to boost my social interaction skills by having me sit next to someone I didn’t know. His name was Brian Porter, but his friends called him Porter, while the rest called him Brian. There was my first issue: what to call him. Was “Porter” too intimate and reserved for his close friends, or would “Brian” be weird since he wasn’t called that very often? I decided to play it safe and refer to him as “you.”

The AMC couch theater we were visiting was decked out with huge red leather recliners that went back so far you were in a literal bed. Being forced to sit next to Porter (Brian?) on one of these was a terribly awkward situation, made all the more obvious by my squishing all the way to one side. When Porter decided to pull up the armrest that separated us, I could hear giggles from my friends. Then he turned to me in the darkness of the theater and asked, “Do you want to sit closer to me?” I nearly choked on my soda as I mumbled something incoherent.

I had my reasons for responding with word vomit. One: I had met the guy five minutes before, so his sudden hitting on me was a bit unexpected. Two: I had absolutely no idea how to say no in a nice way. I think he got the hint. He didn’t say anything more and turned back to the movie. The awkwardness, at this point, could have been cut with a knife.

When the movie ended, I met back up with my friends in the girls’ bathroom and frantically explained what had happened. Instead of reacting the way I thought they would (“Oh my God, he’d just met you!” “That’s sooo weird, but hey, take it as a compliment.” “Woo-hoo, getting it on, I see?”), my friends responded by asking me why I hadn’t said yes and just “got with” him. Apparently snuggling with and potentially kissing a stranger in a couch theater was perfectly normal to them.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that my friends’ questions were not completely unexpected. I’d once read something on a website about a recent trend of my generation: teenagers drinking at parties and “hooking up” with each other. I felt totally out of place because I had no desire to do that.

When I expressed this to my friends, they took it as a sign that I liked Porter but just wanted to get to know him first. Later that night they had Porter text me, and then they proceeded to text him, on my behalf, flirty messages with suggestive emoticons. Believe me, I fought this – but eventually I resigned myself to the fact that they were going to set me up with Porter whether I liked it or not. (Call me crazy, but something about that sentence sounds very wrong to me.)

After my initial annoyance at my friends for texting Porter, I began to feel bad. Now he believed I was really into him, and it was going to be difficult to let him down again. When I told this to my friends, they were shocked that I was planning on saying no a second time.

“Bianca, you have to take this opportunity. If you don’t, you’ll regret it for a reeeeally long time.”

“I don’t understand why you won’t just hook up with him. He’s nice.”

“Not every guy you get with is going to be someone you find attractive. You can’t have such high expectations in life.”

Needless to say, the texting continued. I cringed in the corner while my friends giggled over my phone. They were much more into my budding “relationship” than I was.

I did not find Porter attractive at all, but with everyone around me insisting that he was, I began to wonder if something was wrong with me. I’d kissed a boy once when I was thirteen – and yet I had absolutely no desire to kiss Porter. My friends couldn’t believe that any teenage girl who hadn’t been kissed in three years would reject an invitation from a boy who they thought was good-looking.

I, Porter, and the others I’d met that night were invited to another movie the last night of the program. I was really nervous. Naturally, I would be sitting next to Porter, and naturally, he would make another move on me. I couldn’t decide whether to just kiss him to shut everyone up, or to say no because I wasn’t comfortable. I knew what kind of reaction I would get from my friends if I said no: eye rolls, sighs, and teasing about how I was too prudish.

At the movies, Porter put his arm around me just like I had predicted. I knew I was probably coming off as cold, but I crossed my arms tightly and turned my head so that I wasn’t looking at him at all. I had no idea if he was going to pop a question like last time or just swoop in unexpectedly for a kiss. I couldn’t decide which option I’d dislike least.

Eventually Porter took the question route. Halfway into the movie, which was surprisingly enjoyable, he turned to me and asked possibly the most cringe-worthy question ever to be uttered by a human being: “Wanna hook up?” At this point in the movie, Hercules had just bludgeoned a guy’s head off and flipped the horse he was riding on.

“Uh … u-um … well, I … I just, uh, hmm …” was the intelligent response I started to give. I hadn’t decided whether I was going to kiss him, so I was essentially thinking on my feet as the words poured out of my mouth. But in that moment I found the decision easy to make. They say to flip a coin when you are stuck between two choices. When the coin is in the air, you will suddenly know which option you truly want.

“Listen, I would,” I started (despite the fact that the “I would” part was a total lie), “but I’m a very shy person, and I don’t feel comfortable doing that in front of my friends. But you can … um … kiss me, if you want.”

I don’t know why I said the last part – perhaps because I saw the look of disappointment on his face. It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to plant a small peck on him. But apparently a kiss was too measly a consolation prize for him; over the course of the next ten minutes, he awkwardly retracted his arm from around my shoulders.

I know that I wasn’t in the wrong for saying no, despite the disapproving looks from my friends. I had no obligation to kiss Porter, no matter how upset he looked or how bad I felt for turning him down a second time.

I was content with my decision, which is a rarity for little indecisive me. I like the old-school way of developing a relationship: friends first, kiss second. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that I’m interested in full-on courting, but I definitely long for something sweeter and simpler; hooking up is not my idea of fun. For now, I’m fine with taking it slow until I meet someone meaningful, even if it means annoying a few friends and would-be suitors along the way.