Well, nothing really until 1992, when my friend Erin O'S. told me I'd been marked and other teenagers were encouraged to not hang out with me. Mind you, at this point, I'd never had a boyfriend, never even been kissed by a boy. Also, at this point, I'd decided to leave as soon as I turned eighteen, and had started saving money from my paper route and fast food job, so's I'd have a cushion.
Anyway, at the summer 1992 district convention in Cicero, I renewed a friendship with Steve H., who'd recently been re-instated, and was the brother of Leah H., one of the holier-than-thou teenagers who had told Erin O'S. to stop being my friend. During an informative conversation in the stairwell behind Food Services, he pretty much admitted he'd gotten back in so he could stay at home or whatever, and believed in it about as much as I did.
We headed up to the rooftop, made out, fooled around a little, and ended up kinda doin' it behind one of the rooftop HVAC units. Later that night, we snuck out of the motel where our families were staying and fooled around under the motel's satellite dish, which was conveniently hidden from view by a bunch of shrubbery. We also snuck out and fooled around during the circuit assembly up in Janesville.
I wasn't even really attracted to him, but it was my way of showing solidarity with fellow heathens. Outwardly we pretended to hate each other, so no one would catch on. Later that summer, when I had my graduation party, he showed up and, in front of a group of people, made a point of telling me he'd gotten a place of his own with a friend of his and that I "should visit sometime." I shrugged it off, and said, "oh, that's cool," but I was so pissed off that he'd call attention to us somehow that I ignored him completely after that.