Walking through the streets of Toronto’s financial district, in the chill of December, in the dark.

We remembered we had free will, in the middle of finals week, and ran away to Canada for the evening. It was just stupid and impulsive enough to be properly exciting. Saw the opportunity to make a memory to cherish, and went for it.

We’d gotten turned around – unreliable GPS signal on the wrong side of an imaginary line. This side of the imaginary line has public transportation, cold pavement, tall buildings with glass windows, and kilometers. It’s cold.

A group of big burly men with scraggly beards walk past us on the sidewalk, as we’re standing still, looking at the phone. I suspect that if we’d needed help we totally could have asked them. Also, the next time it happened I put myself between her and them without thinking about it. I knew it would help her feel safe.

“Rule number one of traveling alone?” I asked.

She blinked.

“Always look like you know what you’re doing.”

“Exactly.”

We got moving, even though we didn’t know which way was the right way to go.

I was wearing a black leather jacket and pants, plus a knit beanie and worn out flat-soled sneakers. This kept me warm and made me feel unusually confident. I borrowed the leather on a temporary basis, then gave it back at the end of the evening. In that moment, I felt like I could shapeshift.

She spent hours in front of a mirror, before it was time to go, experimenting with outfits – couldn’t decide, brought a large tote bag full of options. Eventually settled on a blue silk skirt, sheer sparkly top, blazer, necklace made from a pocketwatch.

We changed in a parking garage, running a little late. Hastily applied makeup. She knew what she was doing – I did not, but I made do, faking my way through it. Dark grey eyeshadow, dark purple lipstick, needed help with the countouring, careful self control around the sparkly highlighter. Accidentally smudged the eyeliner, decided that was fine.

The stadium smelled like cigarette smoke. The acoustics were good and the lighting was pretty. The music was loud and the band had solid rhythm and shamelessly problematic energy in the best way possible – the kind you can get away with when your actions speak louder than your words. Or so I’ve heard.

Beside me, the woman who grew up too fast got to relax into being a fangirl for the leader of the band, tall dark handsome british stringbean, greasy punk smoking a blunt and drinking directly from the bottle of wine on stage, making off color jokes like he’s trying to get himself canceled and knows that everyone in that room is already too charmed to care, making out with various members of the band – plus the occasional willing participant from the audience. Performance art as social commentary, an angst-fueled warning, like – holy shit, devil may actually care.

Personally, I could not stop staring at the bass player.

But mostly I was dancing, dancing alone in the middle of a crowd, sneakers sliding over the smooth cement floor at the edge of that stadium tier.

I needed that.

We talked about bribing the security guards with cookies, smuggling her into the front row – all for a chance to be kissed. It could have worked. She’s drop dead gorgeous, on the outside. Conventionally flawless. Always in vogue. Objectively a knockout.

It’s come at a steep price – I believe that the pressure to live up to a potential she did not ask for has nearly destroyed her, more than once. She’s not alone. Superficial beauty too often seems like an open invitation to take whatever we want, without asking. I think a further disadvantage of looking like this is that she’s never quite sure if anyone likes her for who she is, or if they’re using her for selfish reasons.

I did my best to create a safe space for her to shine, for her own sake. This is something I am capable of giving, freely, or at least for the low low price of truly excellent company and conversation on occasional adventures.

I watch her back, take some selfies, make sure she has enough water to drink, eat homemade chocolate chip cookies in the car on the way back, ask her to text me when she gets home safe.

Don’t ever settle, I tell her.

Thank you for going on an adventure with me.