A Secret Admirer

The following reflection was written in 2003, when I was between 25 and 26 years old.

Midway through the afternoon, as I was walking from class with a box of programs for the Theatre Festival I’d picked up, a member of the senior class ran me down to hand me a pink rose someone had bought me as part of an annual senior class fundraiser. I thought it was strange that someone would buy me a rose, but I didn’t think much about it after that initial thought.

I didn’t think much about it until I came home after DaPonte’s staged reading of Oleanna that evening. When I came home I went straight into Stacey and Angela’s room, where it seemed most of the house was gathered, listening to Stephanie rant about how she was going to become a lesbian because of her frustration with men.

I sat down and showed them my pink rose. Jimmy made a big deal about how this meant I had a secret admirer, that pink roses were designated for just such a thing. The girls listened in and probably laughed as I flushed and wondered aloud who it could be.

One of them, though I wouldn’t know it until days later, was thinking to herself, “Oh no. Someone’s going to get to him before I’ve had my chance.”