Lucky Girl

The boy held my hand. The boy kissed me. And he was OLDER. I wasn’t even sure how to think about this, the feelings I was feeling. I should have been scared. This was the kind of thing that could end very, very badly. I was out late, with my mother having no idea where I was, with a boy I’d just met a few hours ago, and he was touching me and kissing me. It was very compromising, and I was just shy of my fourteenth birthday.

I was extremely lucky. This was actually a nice boy. This story could have ended very differently, but strangely, here’s how it ended.

The boys dropped Dawn and I off around three in the morning in our neighborhood, at Dawn’s friend Shawn’s house. Of course neither of us could go home, so we found a hidden spot to talk for a few hours about what had happened. The Boy had asked for my phone number and wanted to call me. Which, all things considered, was kind of amazing. I had never “made out” with a boy before, but I was pretty sure that when you got to first base with a girl that you’d just met and didn’t go to school with, it would be pretty easy not to follow up on that. So for him to want to call me at some point was really something. I wasn’t sure at all how I’d explain the “how we met” part to my mother, or the “yes, he’s three crucial years older than me” part. By the time we both wandered home at seven in the morning (me timing my arrival to take place just after my mother left for work, because my sister would still be asleep, so there would be no questions as to why I was coming home so early), I was smiling with anticipation of what it would be like to date. I’d never had a boyfriend before, ever.

And sure enough, the boy did call me, a few days later. On the phone, he admitted that he wasn’t three years older than me; he was six years older than me. Anticipation turned to fear. I made out with a nineteen year old? What would he expect from me? I knew what boys that age expected from their girlfriends. What would we have in common? He told me he worked at a gas station and where he lived, which was not far at all from where I lived. My fear turned to panic; I didn’t want to date a nineteen year old who worked at a gas station! I wanted to date a nice, high school boy who studied but knew how to have fun too. This was not at all what I bargained for.

I told The Boy politely that I didn’t think it would work out for us to date, that the age difference was too great, and that we couldn’t possibly have very much in common. I felt kind of creeped out that this guy would have made out with me all night; what kind of guy that age likes a fourteen year old girl? I was relieved when he agreed.

I had to be nuts. A good looking older boy wanted to date me, the first guy who ever had, and I turned him down.


One Response

  1. Wow!

    You sure do know how to write cliff-hangers. I’m glad that this one had a happy ending.

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