| The most daring escapade of my adolescence took place at the mall. Okay, perhaps “escapade” is too strong of a word, but reflecting back on it, I can’t think of another single word that sums up “hormone-fueled exercise in frivolous philanthropy.”
It took place two days after Christmas. I was sixteen and I was still flush with the excitement of being able to buy gifts on my own merit, thanks to the part-time job I’d held the previous year. That feeling of independence had been wonderful--no longer dependent on someone else’s money, I experienced complete autonomy in my gift buying. Combined with the fact that my own haul that year had been ripe with tens and twenties, I was now at the mall, on my own, determined to blow though every cent I had in one colossal seizure of commercialism. Buying gifts for others had been so heartwarming, that buying them for myself should be doubly so, at the very least.
The problem that I’d been running into was that I couldn’t find anything. Looking to maximize my wealth, I was bound and determined to push the threshold of quantity--no one big-ticket item would do, because it’s so much easier to hide buyer’s remorse when you can clothe yourself in a wardrobe of multiple items. So that left me trolling the mall, going into my favorite stores, and then returning to the white-and-pink-tiled courts empty-handed, unable to commit. It was after about an hour of this that I drifted by the tie kiosk.
Every mall since the dawn of man has some sort of tie kiosk--one of those stand-alone carts/mini-stores that are used to maximize mall real estate. This one, situated deep in the wing of the mall that ended in a Sears store, was lined top to bottom with neckties of all varieties, although mostly with the novelty ties that are the driving force behind every good tie kiosk. I was generally good at blowing right by the whole thing, except that this time, the tie kiosk was featuring Haley.
Haley was a girl that I’d been in school with since the late days of elementary--we were acquaintances at best. We never went out of our way to talk to each other, and when we did, one of us (read: “me”) would generally try to pick a fight, because some people are just naturally talented at being antagonistic. But now here was Haley, standing by the register at the tie kiosk. Maybe it was seeing her out of our usual element. Maybe it’s just because she looked like she was bored. Whatever the driving force, I pulled off my pattern of search-and-shop and walked on over to Haley.
“This is what you do now? You work at the tie place?”
Haley looked up. “Oh, hey. Yeah, well… just for Christmas. How was yours?”
She gave me a little smile. Things fell apart. I suddenly noticed that her hair looked nice, that the purple sweater she was wearing looked really cute. While she’d never really been all that attractive, I suddenly noticed a nice, fuzzy girl-next-door quality about Haley that made me want to be her friend.
“Oh, it was pretty good… I pretty much got what I’d wanted, and I ended up with a bunch of cash to spend.”
I was avoiding making direct eye contact. I could feel my hands getting clammy, so I jammed them--well, casually jammed them--into my jacket pockets. Stupid girls. I wondered how I could make them like me.
“Oh, well that sounds like fun.”
“Uh, yeah. It’s okay. I can’t find anything good today, though.”
“You could always go and buy me something,” she joked.
Well, I’m sure the intent was in jest, but somewhere in my brain a filter suddenly stopped working--I could buy her something. That would make her like me. Yes. But what? The mental filters continued to fail in rapid succession until I was left with a suggestion that had been given to me months earlier by one of my older co-workers.
“Dude, the best way to pick up a woman is to be direct. One time I went and bought this girl underwear as a way of asking her out.”
At the time, it was the stupidest thing I’d ever heard, but it came from a guy who used to walk up to women and sing “Hello, I love you, won’t you tell me your name?” so what did I expect? But now, suddenly flailing in a sea of desperation, I reached out for the only life preserver in sight.
Yes! Underwear! That’s BRILLIANT!
I beamed at Haley. “Hey, you know… I will. It’s Christmas after all, and it’s the season of giving. How’s about I get you a new bra?”
She looked a little shocked at this point, but I didn’t really register it. I had a plan, and it was in action.
“Uhhh… sure? I guess so?”
“Great! What, you know, size are you?”
“I’m a B,” she kind of blurted out, then immediately looked a little horrified.
“Great!” I beamed some more. “So… I’ll be back!”
I had walked halfway into Victoria’s Secret before it occurred to me that I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. I stood there in the middle of the store, looking confused--I had never been in there before, I had no idea what I was doing, and oh my God, now a salesclerk was coming up to me.
“Hi, can I help you find something?”
“Yeeeeeeeah. Uh, I’m looking for bras. I want to buy my friend a bra.”
If the clerk smelled fear on me, she was kind enough not to play lioness to my gazelle.
“Oh, okay. They’re back this way--would you like help finding something?”
“Nope. I’m great. Thanks.”
I was left alone to my task. I randomly looked a few tags. Okay, these are like $15, that’s not a problem or anything. Let’s see… size “B”… size “B”… what the hell’s this number mean? I looked at the tags on a few other kinds. All of them had numbers in front of the letters.
By this point, it should have occurred to me that this was, in fact, a really stupid idea and I should just cut and run. But no, by mind had already started to play a slideshow of imaginary photos, ones where Haley was modeling her new bra for me. Back to the tie kiosk for me…
Haley seemed a little relieved when I approached empty-handed. I didn’t give her a chance to talk first.
“The number in front of the letter.”
“Huh?”
“There’s a number in front of the letter. I need to know that, too.”
“Oh. 34.”
She started to get the look of disbelief again. I thought about what her boobies looked like under her sweater. I started beaming again.
“Okay, be right back!”
“Wait--hang on a sec,” she stopped me. “If you’re going to get me a bra, you have to get Kim one too.”
Kim was her best friend, another girl that I knew but wasn’t really friendly with. She was cute, though. I’m sure that Haley had come up with that line as a way to discourage me because I’d be spending twice as much money, but she probably didn’t realize that now I had both her AND Kim modeling for me in my mind’s eye. I called her bluff.
 “Sure thing!” The awkwardness of the whole thing was totally gone. I was no longer clammy or evasive. I had my eyes on the prize, and it was currently sitting in a size 34B package underneath a purple sweater. “So what’s her size?”
Haley looked stunned to the point that I actually noticed. She just started talking, probably on some kind of autopilot.
“I think she’s a 34C.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah… I’m pretty sure… yeah.”
I pranced back to Victoria’s Secret. After some careful deliberation, I picked out a silky black 34B bra, and a red 36C from the same family. I took my quarry to the checkout, and put down my $30. I was spending $30--a significant portion of my bounty--on bras for two girls, and I was doing it with enthusiasm.
Haley bit her lip and started at the floor and I walked back to the world of ties, Victoria’s Secret bag in-hand. I held it out for her. She stared at it for a moment, then took it with some reluctance.
“I can’t believe you did this…”
She looked down into the bag and turned a little redder. I tried my best to be smooth about it.
“Hey, it was nothing. Now you and Kim just have to model them for me sometime.”
Haley’s eyes returned to the floor.
“Well, ummm… yeah. We’ll see. Sure.”
“Okay, great! Merry Christmas, I’ll see you back in school!”
And then I turned and walked away with visions of her sugarplums dancing in my teenage head. That wasn’t at all how I had planned on spending my money, but even beyond the potential for teenage erotica, it felt pretty good just randomly buying a gift for someone who never expected it. Of course, it wouldn’t be until years later, well after I’d gained some control over my internal chemistry, that the altruism of the act would outweigh the potential reward. But, motivation aside, it was one of my finest acts of Christmas spirit. Although really, breasts are nice too.
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