Last year, the self-proclaimed scandal of the century in my grade/middle/high school - mind you, it's a tiny private school where nothing exciting happens - was an eighth-grader going down on a ninth-grader. My girlfriends and I had a few good laughs. Mainly because these two particular people are *shallow, but true* unattractive in a really gross, kinda dirty way. Sorry, I just always had the impression they smelled badly. (Don't blame me, blame my bourgeois perceptions.)
But, frankly, my shock - as much as I hated to admit it to myself - was due to the fact that me, a tenth-grader wasn't able to get a boyfriend - heck, even get a dude to go down on me in the school's bathroom; or the other way around - while a twelve year-old was already proclaimed the "school slut".
I always thought that sex was for teenagers only an utopic fantasy. Kind of like these cheesy American teen flicks. Like, how you, the nerdy but adorable, cute and kind girl have no chance in hell to date the school hottie; in real life, because in above mentioned flicks it's the norm. That kind of utopic fantasy. Obviously, my mistaken perception of teenage life, solely based on Mean Girls and Heathers turned out to be not so mistaken. Well, suicide, bulimia, bombs and murders aside, obviously. I guess growing up in such a sheltered environment, the perception that my naturally perverted mind and entering adolescence with the notion that a couple of cheesy - but grossly explicit - pornos rendered me "street smart" in that particular, um, area of life were partly to blame for my feeling like an out-of-place alien when it comes to sex. Though, I suppose, not everyone's temperament is the same. Not everyone comes straight out of Skins.
And, seriously, what's the deal with alcohol? Sure, when I was in eighth grade, I was fascinated by the tales of my coevals about the joys of beer and vodka. (Obviously, my more mature, current reaction is to cringe.) And, yeah, I caved in a year later and proudly walked down a central street holding a small bottle of Smirnoff at 2 p.m. But, what is the point of getting wasted and hangover at fourteen? Because, yeah, Hangover does seem like a fun movie. The outcome of a crazy night is hilarious when the protagonists are grown-ass men and their adventures include a tiger, a baby or a monkey. Sadly, much like the sappy teenage romances "as-seen-on-TV" - sorry, but these still aren't true - your attempt at an equally awesome night will never going to happen.
I guess, though, I am growing, albeit a bit slowly, out of the awkward and prude-ish phase of my early teenage years. I've changed and grew to become a person I'd never thought I'd be. I mean, in case this counts, I do look high some times. My ten year-old self would never have imagined that one.
