Everything about my teenage life was almost ideal . . . not

I didn’t begin to attract the attention of boys until I was 13 or 14 . . . about the same time as I discovered the necessity and benefits of personal hygiene and grooming.

I always had more male friends than girl friends . . . even to this day.  But because of my extreme lack of experience in quixotic interaction with the opposite sex I didn’t know how to react when one actually approached me.

I remember the first time a boy every asked me out on a date.  He was a very cute young man with wavy blond hair and blue eyes . . . and I actually did like him that way.  He asked me to go to a movie or something of the like and I replied without any hesitation of any kind, “I’ve got better things to do with my time.”  Awkward. Yes, I was classy and sensitive.   

Another such  . . . uhm . . . incident revolved around my first boyfriend.  We had been “going out” . . .  which basically meant walking to and from class together, holding hands and smooching in the school hallways.  In fact, I don’t recall ever actually going out anywhere.  Anyhoo, we had been “going out” for a couple of months and I didn’t really like him that way so I decided it would be best to end the relationship.  On Valentine’s Day, he sent me a carnation and a little box of candy.  In return, I sent him a note that said, “I am breaking up with you.  I was only using you for your class ring.”  Again . . . the epitome of civility.

Another time, a very handsome young man invited me to go to a dance.  I agreed to go with him; he was a little older than me and quite a hotty.  In the meantime, we passed little notes back and forth.  Me, in my innocence and naïveté, didn’t quite comprehend the innuendo and depth of his flirtations.   Somewhere along the line . . . probably when he said he would bring a blanket and we’d sneak out of the dance in order to employ said blanket . . . did I realize he anticipated, nay expected, to get lucky.  Holy cow, I almost died.  Fear not, my virtue remained intact for years after  . . . well, a couple years anyway.

The first guy I ever really liked that way was one of my best friend’s boyfriend  . . . he was my bestest friend but we never went beyond that for obvious reasons.  See?  I did have some modicum of class; although we did have a pretty intense smooch session right before I moved away.  I guess he liked me too that way. 

This might explain why I was never in any sort of real relationship until I was a bit older.  I ended up marrying him when I was way too young (20) and that didn’t last . . . it lasted too long, unfortunately. 

Anyhoo . . . the point is . . . well, there really is no point . . . just a little anecdote about myself.  I hope you enjoy my awkwardness.