Number Two

Number Two was the first girl I dated in high school.  This was in grade 10, to the best of my memory.  It was a fix-up arranged by friends, which was a kind and benevolent gesture, despite how things turned out.  We were already friends, and being told we would make a good couple convinced us to give it a go.
Things went fairly well for a while, in an uneventful sort of way.  We often engaged in public displays of affection (we called them PDAs back in the day), the type of which I had loudly railed against only a short time before.  Physically, the relationship was there, no question.  The trouble was, I had no idea how to talk to a girl on the phone.  She would call me up and eventually, I would run out of things to say, leading to lame conversation enders like "Uhh...I gotta go."  After a while, this came to a head, and Number Two told me she'd had enough of my awkward lack of communication.  It wasn't said in an angry way; (well, maybe a little bit angry) it was more of a conclusion that we'd both thought about, but never spoke of up to that point.  And so, that was the end for Number Two and I.  We stayed friends, although we may have talked a little less.  As breakups go, I'm thankful it went the way it did.  It was a very painless thing, which was good seeing as it was my first relationship.
For a while after that, I didn't worry so much about getting a date.  It's a little hard to believe now, but for a while, I was happy being single.  Little did I know, I was about to be blindsided by a strange girl at a party...