#followingboys

[dutchbydefault]

Mr. Lane

Mr. Lane is the edgy older brother of my childhood friend.  He is also the closest I would get to a human version of Trent Lane, from my favorite MTV cartoon, Daria. 

Super cool and mischievous, he would sit in the garage during his sister's parties and smoke cigarettes the entire time, while listening to the dope bass pounding out of his SUV trunk stereo speakers, and tonguing his sexy labret piercing.  My senior year of high school, I found myself chain-smoking to Nas beats just to get in some alone time with him. 

After a lengthy discourse on my false consciousness and the esoteric morality of Nietzsche, Mr. Lane asked me where I would apply for college.  I listed off fourteen schools, all plane rides away, to which I had completed applications.  Since age five, all I wanted to do was get far from Fairfield and close to Hollywood. 

He squinted at me, with my manic-panic hair and black leather choker, sighed, and said, “Why are you so dramatic?  You should just come to [redacted] in New York City, where I go.  You can train home anytime you want.  It’s awesome.” 

I applied early decision, the next day.  I never even sent my apps to the other schools.  And then went there.  He was that hot.

My father always jokes that he is relieved that Mr. Lane went to such a great school.  So am I, because at seventeen, I would have followed him into a crack den. 

Years later, I told him he reminded me of Trent.  He yelled and chastised me for comparing him to a cartoon character.  Then one day he watched an episode of Daria and said (smiling), "Wait, I DO look like that guy!  Thanks!"