A few hours after my vlog was released, it became evident that most of the twitterverse engaged in my project seemed to be against me. People had even started a new hashtag: #DallasDelaneySucks. And after reading what they had to say, I couldn't blame them.

Sophia C @DamselOutOfDistress

.@DallasDelaney funny that you're "promoting acceptance" while spewing intolerance #DallasDelaneySucks

EliteAF @EliteAF

Boo hoo @DallasDelaney some old woman made you sad? Get over it. #DallasDelaneySucks

Carter Coin @duel4victory

Men have to deal with masculinity police, too. Only getting beat up for acting "gay" is WAY worse than getting bad advice from an old lady.

Valerie Devant @VVDevant

Are manicures a waste of time when they're quality time spent with a loved ones? #DallasDelaneySucks

The worst tweet was the one I got from my friend Dylan:

Dylan Brynt @DillieB

@DallasDelaney wow, this is the stupidest shit. Did you even think of me when you made this?Or are we not friends anymore? #DallasDelaneySucks

After reading those, the Vlogger's Remorse set in, which I found was similar to Buyer's Remorse, except with Vlogger's Remorse you regretted what you vlogged and not what you purchased. And it was far worse than Buyer's Remorse, because at least when you purchased something you could return it and get your money back. You couldn't turn back the clock and make your viewers forget your words.

I perceived myself as being so open, and suddenly I was labeled as a "spewer of intolerance." Learning you aren't who you think you are hurts. It's like discovering deceit, except you're the deceiver.

I wasn't trying to be intolerant...I was just trying to call out girls like Valerie who set and maintained the standards for what femininity had to be. The standards that I could never achieve.

What upset me more than anyone else's response was Dylan's. Were he and I friends? I didn't know. We hadn't been hanging out that much, even though we'd been fierce friends throughout the beginning of high school. Dylan had moved here from Texas freshman year, and one of the reasons he'd moved here was because of the principal at his school, who had told his parents that if Dylan wanted to quit getting bullied for wearing nail polish then he should just stop wearing nail polish. His parents were furious. They'd known Texas was a bad place to raise their gay son, but the principal's inaction toward the bullies convinced them that they needed to move someplace more progressive.

I'd asked Dylan, when he'd told me that, why he hadn't just stopped wearing nail polish, since it seemed like that really would've been the easier option. It was a stupid question, and his answer made this obvious: "Nail polish is one of my favorite forms of self-expression. Would you stop wearing metal shirts because someone else didn't like them on you?"

I was getting some support for my vlog, especially in the Youtube comments:

Hallie Upright

This girl is hilarious

Chad Gray

+Hallie Upright nothing is funnier than bold girls willing to make controversial statements and pissing so many other girls off lol

PeaceMaker Faker

+Hallie Upright she's definitely not afraid to speak her mind. An admirable quality

I was also getting some support at school. Even some of the jock girls were giving me high fives in the hall, including one I'd dated for a week—Sascha King. I'd kissed her more than I'd kissed anyone else in my life, and still that week had been the most awkward week ever. Eventually both of us had decided to stop talking to each other, and we didn't talk to each other again until Monday in the hallway when she put her hand in the air and said, "Delaney, kickass vlog! Nail polish is for losers!"

Which might have been an exciting moment, except I was feeling really down about everything else, especially Dylan's comment. I was in a weird place in my head where I wanted to profusely apologize to him a thousand times or to make a thousand excuses for myself.

Finally working up the courage to text him, I decided to go with option A, including tons of emojis because he loved those.

Dylan

Tue, Jan 19, 8:40 AM

Dallas

IM SORRY😢

IM SORRY😩

IM SORRY😿

Forgive me🙏

Lunch and talk?

Dylan

Ok.

Dallas

Wow, a period?

Cold...

Dylan

Don't make me change my mind.

Dallas

Ok

Love you!

When I got to Dylan's car in the parking lot, the window was rolled down a couple of inches, but the door was locked. Giving him a look, I pulled noisily on the handle a few times.

"If you want in," he said, "then you need to scream out to the entire parking lot that nail polish doesn't suck."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"But Valerie is right over there!" I hissed, spying Valerie and Chad in her shimmering Audi two rows over.

"Do I look like I care?"

No. He didn't look like he cared at all. I'd never seen Dylan look so serious—his face was the epitome of dead serious. I knew the only way to bring it back to life was by doing exactly as he said.

So I turned around and faced the side of the parking lot that was closest to the school building, and said out loud, "Nail polish does not suck!"

Dylan's still-dead expression seemed to say it wasn't loud enough, so I screamed it out even louder, turning ninety degrees and repeating myself until I'd done a 360. "Nail polish doesn't suck, I was wrong, I suck, I'm sorry!"

Hearing the car doors unlock, I quickly opened the door and ducked inside, my gaze falling on Valerie as soon as I opened the door. She was applauding my performance with delicate, cupped claps, complete with her signature smare. Several other people in the parking lot were looking in our direction, so I told Dylan, "Drive." The situation embarrassed me more than all of the poop commentary I'd been receiving for the past weeks dumped together. I had taken those comments with my spine erect and my chin held high, but in Dylan's car, my spine was curved, my chin was resting between my kneecaps, and my hair was covering my cheeks, which were probably a nice shade of cherry. Admitting you are wrong is hard. 

I watched Dylan's expression liven up with amusement as we drove through and out of the parking lot, knowing that I deserved this. His smile stretched wide in response to my embarrassment, his perfectly straight teeth taunting me. His hair, as usual, was parted to the side, and he wore a black shirt with a collar and gray jeans, managing to look somehow preppy and metal at the same time. I looked away from him, before finally forcing myself to say, "I really am sorry. I was just trying to take a jab at Valerie and her monthly manicures, and I blinded myself to the fact that one of my best friends wears nail polish. It was stupid and impulsive."

"This isn't just about nail polish. You're like...having an identity crisis. One where you have to distance yourself from all things feminine. Including, apparently, me."

"Including you?"

"Yeah. You've barely talked to me at all this year. It's always Alex this and Benny that."

I couldn't believe he was accusing me of distancing myself from him. "You've been doing the same thing with Eric and Sydney! Do you even still like me?"

"I like the Dallas I used to know. The one I used to go to lunch with on Tuesdays and Thursdays, who would talk with me about celebrity crushes and unrealistic fantasies. Not the one who hated everything girly."

"I don't hate it. I just don't like it."

"You despise it. You're just as bad as those bullies at my middle school. Maybe worse, because you condemn everyone for being girly. But then you like Valerie over there, and she's like...the most feminine girl ever. You don't make any sense."

He was right, and I sighed. "I don't, do I? I hate myself for liking her."

"You shouldn't. She's not weak."

"No. She's not. And she's probably gonna get the Emily Hearst Scholarship because she's feeding the hungry while I'm spewing intolerance."

"Hey," Dylan said, taking my hand in his own, finally sounding sympathetic. "We all mess up."

"I actually really love your nail polish," I said, placing our palms together, bringing his hand close, and admiring his nails—lime green with black skulls. "You're really talented. These are metal."

Knowing that was the highest form of a compliment I could give, he smiled with a subtle pride, then said, "You won't have a shot at that scholarship if you give up."

"I don't even know what I want to do with my life. I put 'undecided' on three of my applications. My counselor told me that was a risk I shouldn't take—that I should've just picked a major and changed it later."

He sighed. "I dunno what I'm gonna do either. Life is scary."

"I thought you wanted to be an elementary school teacher."

"Yeah...I did. I even applied for some university programs, even though I'll probably end up going to CSCC. But isn't that weird? I mean..." He didn't finish his thought, but I knew what he was thinking, because he'd voiced these same thoughts aloud before: that people already get suspicious when guys want to teach little kids. And once you threw him being gay into the mix, people would get really suspicious, especially since some people in some parts of the world still seemed to think being gay and being a pedophile were the same thing.

"People aren't going to think you're a pedophile because you want to be a teacher," I told him, even though I was lying, because how could I know what other people would think? So I continued with some truth: "Wanting to be a teacher is...like...super noble. Especially since teachers here don't make very much money, even though they have such an important job. Just ... don't try to find a job in Texas."

Even though he knew I was just giving him a bandage for a bruise, he still smiled, and said, "I miss talking to you, Dallas. Really. We need to hang out more."

Nodding fiercely, I said, "Tuesdays and Thursdays. Lunch. Just like old times. Pinky promise." We entangled our pinkies.

"You know," he said, bringing our pinkies close to him as they were still entwined, "I could paint your nails. Then you could post a picture of them to show the rest of the Internet that nail polish doesn't suck."

What could I say? "Yeah...sure..."

After we ate lunch and drove back to school and got out of his car to go to fifth period, I realized how much I was dreading Adree's comeback video, because right then I hated #NailPolishSucks more than ever. It really sucked. Yeah, I'd spoken my mind, but I hadn't critically examined my thoughts beforehand. I sucked. #DallasDelenaysucked.

So when Wednesday evening finally rolled around, I was waiting for Adree's tweet, hoping I had braced myself well enough for my defeat.