Ah, memories

A lot of web logs I keep up with have recently been reminiscing about first kisses, first boyfriends, etc. It's easier for me to remember this stuff than it is for most people, because in high school, I was the Dateless Wonder. I NEVER got asked to dances, I NEVER had a boyfriend, and no boys EVER liked me. Back in those days, I used to be so upset, wondering what I was doing wrong. Moron. It's because I didn't put out. Cripes. I can't believe I actually wondered if I wasn't pretty enough, or smart enough, or not popular enough. Not until I was well into college did I realize that THAT'S all boys wanted. And Scott had to tell me. I was so naive.

I'm not sure what the "bases" stand for anymore, but I think when I was in school it was first: kiss, second: boobs, third: touchy-touchy, homerun: skin slapping. I never let anyone get past second base with me, except for Scott. If they did, it was unmemorable. I can't believe that girls these days actually think oral sex is no big deal. Holy shit. I weep for my girls' future. I didn't do that until we were dating for a LONG time, then we got married, and everybody knows that married women don't have to do that anymore...

Anyways, back onto the boyfriend thing. Out of the few guys I dated, I suppose I was lucky, because only one made me cry, only one broke my little heart. I thought he was so nice, and so "not like those other boys," but alas, in the end, he was. He had his friend break up with me for him. Nice, eh? I believe the conversation, if not exact, was pretty close to: "Hey, ----- said that he'll give you one more week to sleep with him, and if you don't, he's going to break up with you." Um...come again? No pun intended. I can't remember if I said anything or not. I was completely stunned. A day or two before that, ----- had driven me out to his grandfather's land, and we made out under the stars. Wait...that sounds SO romantic. I was 17, people, there was no romance. The truth of the matter is, he drove me out to his grandfather's cow pasture, where we hopped in the bed of his truck, and kissed like only two teenagers can, while surrounded by mosquitoes and the warm scent of cow crap. I told him that I didn't want my first time to be in the back of a truck in the middle of a cow pasture. Guess he didn't take to that too well, since he sent the Breakup Patrol after me the next day. But I digress.

Anyways, that fucker made me cry. It still makes me mad, because I know my girls will have to go through the same thing, and I know that their hearts will get broken, and they'll cry, and they'll feel like they're not pretty enough, or skinny enough, or smart enough.

Then, they'll marry the man of their dreams, and recall all those stupid boys and laugh wickedly and think, "You are all a bunch of dumb fuckers."

The End

*Oh, and my first kiss? That great honor went to a strapping young lad named Mark Jernigan. I was 13, he put his tongue in my mouth, and I believe my thoughts were, "What the HELL is he doing?" I never talked to him again.