Originally posted on Tuesday, November 11, 2008 on myspace.com
Teenage boys don’t understand sex.
I should have taken that advice.
It was given to me over and over by every single one of my family members.
I always thought it was about getting drunk, and getting laid.
That there wasn’t any feeling behind it.
I should have waited until I had the hormonal capacity to “make love” with a woman, and not just fuck.
I lost it at a party.
God was that a mistake.
I suggest not losing at a party, especially with basket case girl.
I mean, don’t get me wrong, basket case girl is cute in an emotionally unstable kind of way.
But I swear to god, if she smiles at me and says, “hey handsome” in her best “seductive” voice one more time, I’ll fucking punch her.
I fucked myself into a crippling emotional attachment.
Why was she even at a party?
Why did she have her hair done all nice, and that dress on that showed she really had a body?
Why was she so vulnerable and drunk with tears coming down her face?
Hey, I didn’t have a date to prom either, and I wasn’t crying.
It was probably that meathead jock who called her a crazy bitch.
That was probably it.
But why me?
I walked by her, red cup in hand, and she grabbed my arm.
I should have pulled away at that moment, like her skin exhaled acid on my arm or something.
I should have shouted, “JESUS CHRIST, GET ME TO A HOSPITAL, IT’S EATING MY SKIN.”
But instead, I looked down at that make-up stained face, and into those puppy dog eyes.
Then I kissed her.
Everyone saw it, too!
I mean, I wasn’t popular before, but now I’m really not.
I took advantage of the situation.
Like a dog in heat.
No feeling behind it.
No porno style moans.
Just 5 minutes of a new addiction, and the rest of my high school year with a lost dog following me.
Worst part, she calls me, all the time.
In a drunken stupor, I took a sharpie from my pocket and wrote my cell phone number on her forehead.
Brilliant, I know.
Even my handwriting was drunk.
Sad part is, I don’t think I can ever get to know this girl now.
I might have been able to look past all the rumors and gotten to know her for who she really is.
Then I could have had sex that made sense.
Instead, I have a cancerous growth on my hip.
Which is why I have to tell you what I said before.
Teenagers don’t fucking understand sex.
Masturbate until you can.