A few more days of summer holidays then the kids go back to school, I go back to school, and real life begins again.
This is exciting and scary all at once.
For one thing, I have 14 year-old-year boy who is going into grade 9.
For me grade nine held a host of “firsts”:
-first time taking the train from Toronto to Montreal by myself
-first time having a real, can’t-stop-thinking-about-him crush; the kind of crush where you make sure you wear a different outfit to school every day of the week so the boy will notice how…well, I’m not sure what he’s supposed to notice. I guess he’s supposed to notice that you can dress yourself.
-first time I french kissed a boy: just for the record, I didn’t like it, and did not do it again until…well, until grade 10
I was at the movies with a boy named Glen. I had liked Glen back in grade 8.
In grade 9, although I had the crazy-in-love crush on the boy who I was trying to impress with my ability to insert one leg at a time while putting on pants, I did still have a little torch burning for Glen.
Glen knew that I had had a crush on him in grade 8.
At this point I can only presume that he was getting very little action in grade 9 so he asked me out.
So we’re at the movies together, he’s inching his arm around my shoulder, then creeping his hand down the front of my cute flowery blouse that I had purchased with my hard-earned babysitting money to impress the other boy, the boy I had the mad-mad crush on (you still with me?)
The second his hand made its way into my bra and touched my boob, I bolted out of my seat, told him I had to go to the bathroom, and left the movie theatre.
The next day at our high school, he told everyone that I was frigid.
When you’re a 14 year old girl who is trying to capture the attention of the one you love – not the one who felt you up – the last thing you want is that boy to know you not only had another boy’s hand down the front of your blouse, but you didn’t even stick around for said gropper to get his rocks off.
I was frigid. Like a fridge. A refrigerator.
Anyway, a couple of years ago, Glen sent me a friend request on Facebook.
This is me in grade 9:
Then I defriended him.
Hey Glen. The jokes on you. I didn’t have any boobs to feel up back then and I still don’t!
This is the part where I would insert a picture of me in grade 9, but fortunately for my fragile ego, I don’t know how to work my scanner.