John, age 14+

“Cause baby I'm just a scared and lonely rider 
But I gotta know how it feels 
I want to know if love is wild 
Babe I want to know if love is real “
-Bruce Springsteen ( Clarifying point: I never liked Bruce. Actually, I hate cheesy Americana. But he is John's idol, and thus appropriate.)

My friend from Elementary School, Anna, had gotten boobs and become a lot of boy's favorite in those early days of high school. She threw an end of the year party after our freshman year, and it was a pretty mixed group. It was one of those parties that can only happen before people start drinking, with parents present and monitoring the cd player for objectionable lyrics. I was wearing a white tank top and my favorite low rise jeans with my hair blowdried with some eyeliner poorly applied. There were some boys there, mainly football players, sitting on couches and goofing around, shoving chips in their mouths and drinking Coke after Coke. I knew them from cheerleading and math classes, but I was still a little uncomfortable. And then the unthinkable happened. John started flirting with me. Hardcore. John was a gangly, awkward boy who, without his confidence and sense of humor, would have fit in better at a LAN party than football game. But despite the physical shortcomings, he was a sought after boy because of his charm. We started talking, and soon I was sitting on his lap. I just about died. Our parents collected us around ten, and we hugged good-bye. But sure enough, soon after that, John was IM-ing me daily. We met up at the 4th of July fireworks abut a month later, and I was pretty psyched about it. Heavy handed flirtation abounded, but nothing happened because I was leaving for a church community service trip the next day. I left dreaming about John, and I couldn't wait to get back and see where it went.
Of course, I hadn't bargained on T. T was a girl from my elementary school who never had an awkward phase. She was born adorable, and stayed that way forever. Imagine my surprise when she started telling us all about her relationship with John. I was shocked, disappointed and filled with hatred towards that girl. I obviously know she was unaware of my crush and John and my flirtation, but you always hate the girl who steals your man (boy in this case). Instead of being beaten, I decided I was going to steal him back. Also noteworthy of this trip is that I met a boy there from Baltimore and we snuck out on the roof to make out. While making out, he took my bra completely off and threw it on the floor, but left my shirt on. I thought that was normal at the time, but now it seems a funny reminder of exactly how neither of us knew what we were doing at all.
Anyways, I came back from the trip a very determined girl. I saw him again at the football-cheerleading carwash, and we spent the day throwing water and soap at each other in what could have been a hormone driven montage in a teen movie. That night was a girl in my grade's sweet sixteen, and everyone who remotely knew her was going. I had bought a new dress for the occasion which was, shockingly, black, strapless, and with an asymmetrical hem. Apparently that was my favorite silhouette at the time (I think the slutty black dress is going to me a motif in this whole saga). I left the carwash with anticipation that tonight was going to be the night that I...well, I wasn't exactly sure what would happen, given my relative inexperience, but I knew something vaguely sexual MIGHT go on. Keep in mind that I felt like I needed to play catch-up compared to the other girls. Just emerging out of a terrible middle-part and t-shirt phase, I realized that other girls had accrued double or triple the number of my number make-outs in the past three years. If I was serious about this “normal girl” thing, I was going to have to work at it.
I got to the party and, not surprisingly, John was there. With T. With her as his girlfriend. I was crushed, but I knew I should have suspected it. Deep down I know John was just a flirt, that I wasn't actually, seriously considered as a date-able option. But I at least wanted him to feel me up.
We ended up hooking up a few months later, where I did my first REAL sex act, in the spare bedroom of a kid's basement. Yes, his basement had a bedroom. It was actually large enough to house a small family of illegal immigrants. I was sober, I was nervous, and the act wasn't even remotely reciprocated (not that most fifteen-year-old boys would know what to do with a vagina) (at least, I hope not). The whole thing left me very confused. I had thought I wanted to do it, to have a “hook up”, and I didn't exactly feel dirty, but the question that stuck in my mind was something like this: “I'm not good enough to date, but I'm good enough to touch your penis?” I think that was the first time I really considered what kind of girl I was. I was apparently sexually viable, but everything else wasn't enough to sway someone's emotions. I never really thought about it until now, but after writing this, I think that night was probably the night that I started to get comfortable with the idea that sometimes, flirting just means boys want you to touch their penis.
I hooked up with John a few more times in high school,but not because I liked him anymore. After the initial thrill of having a popular boy like me wore off, he wasn't even my type. At all. I guess I don't really know why I did. It wasn't like his Polo shirts, madras shorts and skinny calves turned me on. I guess maybe it was because he I liked the idea that he still wanted me. He probably just thought I was easy, but maybe he did have some feelings for me left over. Of maybe he just liked my ass. Whatever, I just liked his status. I suppose, maybe, I'm being a little hard on him because I know he is, inherently, a really good guy. But we were never a match, and I knew that going in, and I guess I just kind of resent being disillusioned about boys so quickly. It does make me feel better to know that he and T dated for like ever after that, and still have some sort of relationship (so I'm told. Naturally, that girl hates my guts. I DID hook up with her boyfriend.)So it wasn't me! The Ralph Lauren gods had bigger plans for him!