Cashing In The Memory Bank

(Blog fodder provided by The P.I.T.S. List)

How old were you when you had your first french kiss?

Eleven was a rough year for me. Boys were no longer gross, and had quickly become creatures of mystery. My body was changing in subtle ways. Although I wasn't old enough to have boobs yet, I was still young enough to believe I'd grow "big ones." (I'm still waiting on that.) We had just moved into a new house. The most popular girl in the neighborhood's old house to be exact. I was a target before I'd even enrolled at Warren Elementary. A fact that I unknowingly helped along.

On the first day of school I wore my most "fashionable" vest and turtleneck set. An ensemble that was nothing compared to the stringy blond hair and coke-bottle glasses that accessorized it. "Do you think he's cute?" The MPG (Most Popular Girl) asked while we stood in line for the drinking fountain. I nodded, anxious for her approval. "Well you can't have him. He's mine!" She yelled, yanking on one of the ringlets my Mom had spent hours creating that morning.

From that moment on I was laughed at. It didn't matter that I thought the MPB (Most Popular Boy) rude and stupid. His girlfriend spread the word that I liked him, and that was ammunition enough for the other kids. No other boy dared flirt with me. Girls hesitated to lend me their pens. Even the teacher found their jokes amusing, before she made them stop. It was as if the MPG had stamped a large scarlet "L" on my forehead.

After school I'd watch the kids next door play basketball as I practiced dribbling. I didn't even like basketball. But it was the first thing on my wish list that Christmas. On the other side of my house lived a boy named Ryan. He was a Junior High Schooler. Words best spoken in a hushed or awed tone. "Junior. High. Schooler." I idolized him. He tolerated me. Eventually, whether out of boredom or pity, he even began hanging out with me.

We'd go on hikes through the woods behind my house. He'd pick burrs off my shoes when I started crying (because he'd lied and said they were spider eggs. "They're going to hatch and devour your toes!") He lent me his jacket when it was cold. He told me I was pretty. It didn't matter that he liked to play strange games. Like "Wrestling In The Dark." A game that always left me pinned to the floor and him panting above me.

"How far have you gone?" Ryan asked me one day. "All the way to Ohio," I replied. I remember the look on his face. Vividly. "No stupid. How FAR have you gone?" Then he made a face like he was tongue fighting a vacuum hose. "OH! Um... I've been felt up before." I lied. I had no idea what that even meant. His eyes got wide. "By who?" "This guy I used to date." All of a sudden I was an expert on the matter. Brilliant. "Could I feel you up?" He asked. I was horrified. "NO!" I snapped, turning tail and running home.

He must have been pretty offended. He went to my house the next day and tattled to my Mom. She was outraged. I couldn't leave the house after that without being grilled about where I'd been and what I'd been doing. As if I had any actual friends to be getting in trouble with. As for Ryan? Of course I still hung out with the schmuck. I was eleven, and stupid. But the dynamics of our friendship had changed a bit. We became hell bent on making each other think we weren't interesting in each other.

A ploy which lead me to my first real kiss. A kiss that was NOT given by Ryan, incidently...

More on Monday.

Courtesy of Odd Mix:

The words for this weekend are...

Rush
Wait

February Search Terms:
(What people put into search engines that bring them here)
1. Fuck in Egypt Right now I'd settle for anywhere but the floor.
2. "watch my girlfriend" Do what? Tricks?
3. waiting for my period blogs You don't need a support group. You need a pee test.
4. lashes from whip would probably really hurt
5. What does it mean when the cursor arrow is giggling? You've had too much to drink.
6. answer for car accident-meaning of severed heads Um... They're dead. This isn't rocket surgery.
7. T The letter of the day. Brought to you by I, N, and K.
8. See my tampon Ewwww, no. I'm sure it's... lovely.

Have a wonderful weekend!