Friday, February 23, 2007

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...


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!

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At 23 February, 2007, Blogger Ellie's Mommie said...

Houston, we have a problem... My mother has locked me in the basement because some boy told her I'd made out with a guy... oh, and people enter REALLY strange things into search engines! This should be investigated. It may be a mass outbreak of some mental disease. I am greatly concerned... Thank you HOUSTON!

At 23 February, 2007, Blogger Jay said...

"More on Monday"? "MORE ON MONDAY?!?"

I can't believe your leaving a cliffhanger over the weekend!! It's cruel. It's mean ... it's ... ok I'll wait. ;-)

At 23 February, 2007, Anonymous susan said...

A CLIFFHANGER??!! This better be reeaaalllly good or I'm telling your mom!

I can't believe you did that...::shaking head::

At 23 February, 2007, Blogger jinx protocol said...

Sounds like Mean Girls. Young women can be so cruel.

At 23 February, 2007, Blogger fiwa said...

TBC? Bad Tink!
Man, if everyone has a mean girls story... what ever happened to all of them? Huh, on second thought, nevermind. One of them works in the office right next to me...

Happy weekend!

At 23 February, 2007, Blogger Mignon said...

Sometimes I read your words and I feel like I'm wearing a housecoat and curlers. THANK GOD THAT PUBESCENT BOY WAS AN IDIOT AND TOLD ON YOU BECAUSE THAT SITUATION WAS LEADING TO NO GOOD, YOUNG LADY!

At 23 February, 2007, Blogger Foo said...

My first French kiss was also my first kiss. I was sixteen years old, with a face like a pizza and no social connections. Except... one of the girls in swing choir was having a Sweet 16 party, and I somehow received an invitation. Since swing choir was populated with quite a few of the second-tier socialite girls (and therefore at least three castes above my own), I was pretty sure I was being set up.

I went anyway. There was no catch, no cruel jokes on the spotty-faced kid--and I had a good time. The party was held at a city park, in a picnic shelter, and once it started to get dark we had only the parking lot's street lamps for light. As teenagers, no one had thought to bring light bulbs for the picnic shelter.

That's when it happened. As the sun disappeared, one of the girls coyly suggested we play Post Office. Or Spin the Bottle. I can't remember which, but the upshot was that I was more than a little uneasy. Oh, sure, as a roiling mass of hormones, there was scarcely a waking moment when I didn't play this sort of scenario over and over in my mind.

But there I was, being led by the hand to my dad's car for our... well, maybe it was Seven Minutes In Heaven, now that I think of it. The girl doing the leading was one of the Pemberton twins, who had recently started wearing contact lenses and were smokin' hot. One of them was a flag girl in the band; the other was a majorette. The point?

[time passes]

Sorry. I lost my train of thought for a moment there.

Anyway, we ended up in the back seat, and being the guy I am, I was prepared to talk about the weather and maybe give her a pristine kiss on the lips. Or maybe two.

All of a sudden... Oh. My. God. Her tongue was in my mouth, and what is her tongue doing in... hmm. That's... yanno, I think I like that. And I (think that I) got the hang of it pretty quickly.

It was one of those isolated incidents, not to be repeated again or in quite the same way. The twins, being identical, both later claimed that it was her sister who had ambushed me.

Dang. Here I am, trying to think of something to post on my own blog, and I end up spewing a libretto's worth in your comments. =)

At 23 February, 2007, Blogger Chris said...

The suspense is killin' me here!!

At 23 February, 2007, Blogger mamatulip said...

"All the way to Ohio."

I love it. I can't wait until Monday. ;)

At 23 February, 2007, Blogger meno said...

Hmph! I wouldn't have taken you for a tease.

My first kiss was at age 19. Yes, it's true.

At 24 February, 2007, Blogger mjd said...

Ah the trials and tribulations of being eleven. Your story brings back memories. Those times of trying to figure out the world and my place in that world. Those moments helped form who we are, but I do not care to be eleven again. In any event, I will be back on Monday to read about the adventures of little Tink.

At 24 February, 2007, Blogger EE said...

The suspense!

I agree with MamaT, I love "all the way to OHIO!" *snort*

You really do get some wacko search

At 24 February, 2007, Blogger Ellie said...

"Oh to be young again..." Quite frankly I don't miss the mean girls. Not to say they don't exist in adult form, but I deal with them a lot better than I did as a kid.

At 24 February, 2007, Blogger Newt said...

"what does it mean when the cursor is giggling"

Too funny.

At 25 February, 2007, Blogger Lucia said...

This was great...but what a tease you are leaving us all hanging until Monday!

At 25 February, 2007, Blogger gawilli said...

Ohio is pretty far. Can't wait until Monday!

At 25 February, 2007, Anonymous Sarah, Goon Squad Sarah said...

I think I was 13.

Boys didn't really like me much until college.

At 26 February, 2007, Anonymous wordgirl said...

I just love the stories about a person's first kiss. I was such a late bloomer that I'm ashamed to talke about mine.

At 27 February, 2007, Blogger Tink said...

Jay: I'm sorr- wait a second. Didn't you do a TBC not that long ago Jay?

Foo: That was the greatest comment from you yet!


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