This is one of John Green’s, author of The Anthropocene Reviewed, favourite jokes by Norman Macdonald. A moth walks into a podiatrist’s office.

“What seems to be the problem, moth?” asks the podiatrist.

“Oh God, doc!” said the moth, “If only there was just one problem. My father died, and I miss him terribly. Worst of all, I think my uncle killed him, and my mother has taken up with this very same uncle. I don’t know what to do, doc! I don’t know how to respond to this. I just feel so lost. At this point, I genuinely don’t know if it’s better to be or not to be.”

And the podiatrist is like, “Oh gosh, moth! I’m so sorry you're going through this. But it sounds like you need to see a psychiatrist. I'm a podiatrist. What brings you to my office?” 

And then the moth says, “Oh, the light was on.”
***

 

It was the second week of 10th grade. I was contemplating what I needed to do once I got home when I was interrupted by distant shouts.
“Oh my god, it’s Julie!”

Crap! I’ve been spotted.

There was no point in trying to run away. That would’ve just made me look rude at best and moroninc at worst, so I walked over to the gaggle of 9th graders. While walking, squinting in the bright sunlight, I wondered, Who the heck is that?
I recognized a few of them, but I couldn't make out the individual in a black and red baggy outfit with chunky silver jewelry. At first glance, he looked like a complete stranger, but something about the glint in his eyes seemed familiar.
“Dead Name?!” I said, which I now know was a boneheaded move. I always meant to apologize, but I never got the chance.
“Yeah, I go by Nathan now,” he told me. “I just wanted to say that I like your style.”
“I’d say the same for you,” I told him.

​

Nothing gave me a dopamine rush like someone complimenting my outfit. I’ll admit, I was dressed quite nicely in one of my go-to old-school lolita coordinates, consisting of the closest garments that Goodwill had to offer. It had a retro vibe to it: a white blouse, a pink polka-dotted square-dancing skirt, white knee-high socks, and my saddle shoes. The boredom of being barricaded in my room 70% of the week due to a plague would have surely killed me had I not discovered lolita fashion.
***

​

The first week of December, I managed to catch Nathan after weeks without seeing him. I finally asked him which class he had – we had the same one all day due to the aforementioned plague. He said he had English in room 220, but when I asked the teacher if he had a student named Nathan, he bluntly told me no. I was back at square one. Knowing what class he was in was vital information because I had bought him a pair of black and white skeleton gloves for Christmas. I wanted to get him something that said, Hey, I like you, but with no specifics as to whether it was romantic or platonic.
​
Monday came, and I was able to deduce that his class was on the second floor, so I waited at the top of the staircase, all wherefore art thou, Romeo? To my humiliation, while I was anxiously waiting, Mariah Carey’s All I Want for Christmas Is You, started playing over the PA system. I was begging; Dear God, please not this song, not here, not now!
Just before I went to science class, I managed to give Nathan his gift.
“Oh, wow! Thanks, bro,” he said.
We bid each other a Merry Christmas, and he walked off.
“Yes!” I said as I leaped into the air. But I forgot to ask him his last name, again. Never did find out what it was.
***

​

Time passed. I didn’t see a molecule of him for the rest of the school year and summer, which left me with nothing but time to think and overthink. I fantasized about all the fun things we would do together once lockdown was over. I also wondered if I shouldn’t be thinking about him so much. I mean, who says bro to someone they're interested in? Maybe he said that because he felt awkward. Is he avoiding me? He’s probably just in the other cohort; no wonder I haven’t seen him. Just because he was nice to me doesn’t mean he likes me, right?
***

​

One fateful Thursday in the second week of 11th grade, someone stopped me in the hallway to compliment my outfit. Again, I was wearing thrifted lolita: another square dancing skirt with sax blue and floral panels, a long-sleeved blouse with a wide lacy collar, and a big white bow clipped into my ponytail. They looked like a palette swapped Nathan: quark screw dirty blond hair, slightly shorter than me, and a beautiful tone to their voice. I figured I was never going to see them again, but I actually ran into them at work.

​

“Hey, you go to North Hill, right?” I asked while putting clothes on the rack.
“Yeah, why?”
“Remember me, the girl in the frilly dress?”
“Oh, that was you? What’s the style called?” They asked because, of course, they did.
I gulped, “It’s called lolita. But don’t worry, it’s got nothing to do with the book.”
“I didn’t know there was a book,” they responded, thankfully.
“Don’t Google it.”
“I’m gonna Google it!”
After an awkward beat, they said, “I think it’s great that you dress different. Especially at NH, everyone there is boring.”
“I don’t think you’re boring.” 
“Thanks,” they said. “I’m Adrian, by the way.”
“I’m Julie.” 
“That’s a pretty name.”
“Why, thank you. So, what are you doing for lunch tomorrow?” 
“Why do you ask?”

“Well, I don’t typically do anything,” I said with some degree of hesitancy. “So, I was just wondering…”
“Well, we all meet up over at Bronwen,” they told me.
“Then I guess I’ll see you there.”
Congratulations, Bell, you managed to execute normal human behaviour, and around a cute individual, no less.

​

The next morning after math class, I grabbed my lunch pail and made my way to Bronwen Park – the main hangout area for North Hill students. It’s only about a five-minute walk downhill from the high school and in close proximity to a Tim Horton’s cafe. I walked down the worn dirt path with rocks and roots poking out of it. I stopped at the small tree at the end and looked around. After inspecting the groups of people that were already there, I realized that there were a few problems with my plan. I didn’t go there very often, so I did not account for the size of the park, nor a specific meeting place. Granted, the park isn’t huge, but a fair size with a baseball diamond, tennis court, and playground, with lots of very tall trees in between. To make matters worse, everyone had gotten their NH t-shirts that day, so from afar, everyone looked exactly the same.

​

I wandered around the park, the dew from the long grass seeping into my shoes, trying to finish my lunch, questioning every decision that led me to that point in my life. What am I doing out here? Why did I do this? I hate it out here! This was a mistake!
About a half-hour later, people started coming back through the park in waves. I figured it was time to head back. I had just about given up until, halfway up the hill, I heard someone shout, “Hey, Nate! My back is killing me! Can you carry my backpack?”
“Kill yourself!” he yelled facetiously.

​

Yep, Nathan and company were right behind me, including Adrian. I was talking to both of them. They gave me compliments about how cute I looked. Nathan’s hair had grown out since the last time I saw him. He was cute before; he didn’t need the glow-up, but I sure wasn’t complaining. Adrian told me that they had just missed me. They went to the cafe, and would’ve invited me, but didn’t have any of my socials or number. We hung out on the grassy grounds outside the school. We were chatting, everyone else sitting, and I standing so as not to get grass stains on my skirt. A few times, I caught their unintelligible gazes, staring back at me with the kind of ice-blue eyes that pierced the soul, leaving it vulnerable and naked. So pretty, I wanted to throw up. Then Nathan put his head on Adrian’s leg.
“Wait, are you guys seeing each other?” I asked.
“Yeah, kinda.”
Ugh, dang it!
***

​

The following week, I was determined to join their friend group. My first attempt did not go great. I had no idea where anyone was, and I just stood around the front steps of the school like an idiot. The next day, I managed to catch Adrian and their friend Amy while they waited for Nathan. The four of us cut through the park and walked to the cafe.
“The pandemic has turned me into an aggressively affectionate person,” I told them. “Like, once you guys are comfortable, I will want to squeeze all of you!”
“I’m like the exact opposite of that,” said Nathan. “I’m just like, fuck you, leave me alone!”

​

While Nathan was inside, Adrian, Amy and I sat down on a green patch outside by the road. I was trying to enjoy my sandwich, but I kept getting harassed by wasps.
“I bet that if I were to calculate your size in comparison to that wasp, you’d be real embarrassed right now,” said Adrian while smushing a few with my sandwich container lid, as if I wasn’t embarrassed enough already. I’ve been stung in the face before, which was undoubtedly a one-star experience.
“This is why I don’t eat outside!” I yelled.
“Why don’t you make friends with the people who eat at the school?” Amy asked.
“First of all,” I responded. “Nobody eats at the school. Secondly, I don’t want to associate with The Straights™. You know, those girls who wear crop tops and high-waisted blue jeans, and their due bro boyfriends. Last week, one of them had the audacity to tell me, Hey, Julie! I need to take a leak so bad right now, with his hands over his crotch. It’s like a game to them: who can make Julie Bell the most uncomfortable the fastest?”

Later on, we met up with the rest of their friend group and walked back to the park.
“So wait, do all of you guys smoke weed?” I asked.
“Yeah, but don’t worry, we only smoke the safe stuff,” Adrian failed to assure me.
“I smoke cigarettes, but we don’t talk about it,” said Nathan. 
I promised that I wouldn’t bring it up again, but to say that I was concerned would be an understatement.
***

​

Thursday, I got so lucky. The weather was warm, and the park was bathed in dappled sunlight peaking through the tree leaves. As we walked the worn path, Nathan and Adrian were arguing about something innocuous. We sat on the wood chips by the playground. It felt so surreal. For once in my life, I felt like I was a part of something; I had finally found my people. But I couldn’t shake this sense of unease. But I chalked it up to my social anxiety and tried not to think about it. Nathan and Adrian went back to arguing about whatever it was, but this time Amy was in on it too.
“Stop harassing me!” she whined.
“Totally not jealous of that harassment,” I meant to only say in my head.
Everyone stopped dead in their tracks.
“Oh!” said Nathan.
“I mean, how could you not be?” I said, trying to play it cool.

Rude in text, but polite in context, conversation resumed. Every time Nathan ruffled Adrian’s hair, a pang of jealousy rushed through my gut to the point of being discussed with myself. Once, Nathan stood two inches away from my face. It took everything in me not to kiss him on the forehead. Then, with no warning, something happened, causing me to conjure up a blanket-sized red flag.
“And suddenly, I’m no longer a lesbian,” said Amy, while looking at Nathan’s phone.
“Do you wanna see it?” he asked.
“Uh, no, thanks. I’m good,” I managed to stutter.
 
Based on Amy’s comment, I jumped to the conclusion that Nathan had taken explicit photos of himself. I panicked. If I remember anything from our limited internet safety education in elementary school, whatever you do, don’t take nudes, don’t post nudes, don’t share nudes. If any pictures of your minor ass get out, your sorry mug is getting posted on the child sex offender list. I was too scared to search up whether or not my worst fears held any legal legitimacy. But I also saw a huge shit storm on the horizon and did not want to be around to witness the fall of it. Needless to say, I formally excused myself from Nathan and Adrian’s friend group.

​

I was a moth drawn to a light in a podiatrist’s office.
I give Bronwen Park three and a half out of five stars.