Letters With Boys

Bridget and Kai, Week 1 - September

Kai,

I see now that I was pretty bitchy to you in my first letter. I’m sorry about that. I’ve sometimes been known to lack a filter.

The truth is, I just get overwhelmed sometimes. There’s a lot of pressure on me to be perfect—perfect grades; perfect resume; perfect looks. The little spare time I do have, I try to reserve for my best friends, Tally and Memphis, who pretty much keep me sane. So when I heard that I’d have to be exchanging letters with a pen pal, too, I got a little… frustrated.

I think it’s really cool that you volunteer with those nonprofits. I did one summer of Habitat for Humanity, though if I’m being honest, it was mostly because colleges like that kind of thing. I don’t think I ever really even stopped to take in the importance of what I was doing.

As for Planned Parenthood, well, technically my political leanings go against saying this, but I think that’s cool, too. No matter what side of the abortion debate you’re on, I think we can all agree that safe s*x is the easiest way to avoid the issue altogether. So if you’re helping promote that, then you’re doing good in the world.

Plus, it’s just kind of refreshing to hear that a guy is involved with a female-oriented organization. You must have some self-confidence, dude.

I find it hard to believe that you could be a bad person, based on the little you wrote, but I would be happy to update you with a fresh assessment after your next letter, if you’d like. What makes you so afraid of disappointing your mother, for example? And what would disappoint her?

Pretty much anything and everything disappoints my mother, so I’m not even sure I can call it a fear of mine anymore. It’s just my reality.

Hope this letter wasn’t too depressing for you. Figured you deserved some honesty after my first one.

See ya,

Bridget

P.S.: Don’t be so sure I’d rather be exchanging letters with your class president. I tend to be a highly competitive person; it’s probably safer I write with someone who’s not on the same path I am.

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Bridget,

Sorry to hear you’re a Republican, though not exactly a surprise, given what school you go to.

Other than that, I was pleased to see you’ve opened up a bit.

I get the pressure thing—really, I do. The reason I’m so intent on not letting my mom down is that she fled here from Somalia thirty years ago with nothing more than the shirt on her back. She worked her ass off to earn her doctorate and didn’t start a family until she was certain she could provide a better life for them than she herself had growing up.

She doesn’t mean to put pressure on me—at least, not the bad kind. But I can’t exactly help feeling it. Can you blame me? When your own mother grew up in a third-world country riddled with violence and risked her life fleeing to the country you call home, there isn’t much room for slacking off.

“What would disappoint her?” you asked me. Well, I guess the answer is… my not taking advantage of the opportunities she gave me.

Sorry if that was TMI. I’m kind of an open book. Writing that first, short letter wasn’t easy for me.

I would be curious to hear more about your mother, and your family. Are they the ones putting all this pressure on you to be “perfect,” as you said? If you’re as successful as you sound—class president, et cetera—then what do they have to be disappointed about?

Kai

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Kai,

I never said I was a Republican. Though, if you ever meet my mother, yes, I am.

That’s kind of the explanation for the whole “disappointment” thing, when it comes down to it. She wants me to be one, very specific thing, and I’m, well… not.

On paper, I guess I am. I certainly try very hard to be. I’ll probably wind up valedictorian, or at least salutatorian. I got near-perfect scores on my SAT’s. You already heard the rest of the resume.

I do my best to look the part, too. I buy the ridiculous clothes—the pleated skirts, the pearl necklaces, the high-necked blouses—all from Louis Vuitton, or Burberry, or wherever the hell Charlotte from s*x and the City shopped, because I basically have her wardrobe.

What was it Carrie called her? A “Park Avenue Princess.” Yeah, that’s basically me, only it’s Granger instead of NYC.

(By the way, don't waste your time with And Just Like That. There might be something there for our parents' generation, but I get nothing out of it except wondering whether they would have aged better with less plastic surgery.)

The truth is, Kai, none of that is me. But if you asked me who I really am, I’m not sure I could tell you. I’m not sure I’ve ever really gotten the chance to find out.

All I know is, if not for Memphis and Tally, I’d be lost.

I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t share my letters, or even talk about them, with anyone. I have sort of a reputation to uphold, and it’ll be bad for me if people start questioning that.

I just felt the need to be honest with you, since you were so honest with me.

Your mom sounds like an incredible woman.

Bridget

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That last letter kind of broke my heart, Bridget. I’m worried about you, and I don’t even know you. Of course I won’t share your letters with anyone. I’m not that kind of guy.

I’m glad you have those friends—Memphis and Tally. I can’t say I have anyone like that. There’s one guy in my class, Gray—he’s alright. Gets into fights a lot, which seems like sort of a privileged thing, from my perspective—like he knows his parents will just buy his way into the next school if he gets kicked out of this one. But I don’t know him well enough to say that for sure, and I don’t really like to judge people.

He asked me about you—Gray, I mean. Wanted your last name so he could go looking up what his writing partner—your friend Memphis—looks like.

For the record, I didn’t do that—look you up. Nor do I think he should have. Truth be told, I like this assignment—“pen pals.” I think it’s classy and old school, in a way that few things are anymore. And I think checking to see what someone looks like to determine how you interact with them kind of spoils the whole point.

I also think that you’re not a girl who’s looking for a next boyfriend. So, respectfully, I’m here to tell you that I’d like to be your friend.

I know you have Memphis and Tally, but I also get the feeling you could use someone else to talk to—maybe someone who doesn’t know you quite so well.

And God only knows I could, too.

Kai