Quite the opposite, actually.
Ever since I reached the age of thirteen, I went out of my way to make myself unnoticeable to the opposite sex. This came on the heels of being cornered at my locker at school one afternoon in a deserted hallway by four older boys. Puberty came early to my body and I filled out on top in such a way as to catch the boys’ attention. Because we were so poor, I had no choice in the clothing I wore, which consisted of only Kelly’s hand-me-down stuff, and because she was the type that liked boys at an early age, her stuff tended to be tighter and more revealing. I’m thinking that’s maybe why she got pregnant with her first child when she was sixteen.
At any rate, the boys scared a few years off my life by getting suggestive and grabby with me, making lewd comments about my breasts. When one of them tried to drag me into the boys’ bathroom, I kicked him in the nuts and screamed my head off, which caused one of the teachers to come barreling out of her classroom.
I couldn’t help the tears in my eyes because I was scared out of my mind, and with a shaking voice, I told her what happened.
And do you know what she said to me?
She said, “Well, if you wouldn’t wear clothes like that, the boys wouldn’t notice.”
And you know what else?
I wasn’t even mad at her. Even at thirteen, I was smart enough to realize she had a very good point.
From that day forward, I borrowed my daddy’s T-shirts and sweatshirts to camouflage my shape, I didn’t wear makeup, and I certainly didn’t call attention to my hair. The glasses couldn’t be helped. I needed them to read, but I also realized soon enough they were equally effective as a deterrent, so I kept them on at all times except when I was sleeping.
My boy problem was solved. What I didn’t have in the looks department, I more than made up for by being friendly, outgoing, and funny at school. So I was sort of popular with a wide range of classmates…as popular as a severely poor and nerdy kid can be. My high school years weren’t too totally horrible, and I survived by looking on the bright side of things.
Always.
Unfortunately, by the time I got to college and realized that maybe I’d like the attention of some of the boys, and that my white knight would never find me the way I looked, I really didn’t know what to do with myself. I had no clue how to style my hair or wear makeup, I had no money to buy pretty clothes, and I was almost depressed with the futility of it all.
But then I found out something else about college.
There were so many boys—I mean men—that by the grace of sheer numbers, there were some that were interested in me, just the way I was. At first, granted, they were interested in my brain. I had a grand total of two boyfriends while going to college the last five years, and I met both of them in upper-level classes where the students were taking their schooling seriously.
The first one, Kelton, didn’t last long. He was my first kiss and my first trip to second base, which I found to be wildly exciting, but scary too. My inability to go to third is what killed the relationship. He didn’t seem to mind my lack of style and my generally dorky ways, but he did mind that I wouldn’t put out after a month of dating.
My second boyfriend stayed with me for a year. His name was Anthony and he was a brilliant mathematician. He was also cute in a studious way and was utterly charming to me. We bonded quickly over late-night study sessions and philosophical arguments. Anthony was a virgin, same as me, so both of us were very unsure as to how our relationship should progress. It developed slowly, over time, and eventually we used a twelve-pack of beer to help us bust through our reservations and finally my hymen. It wasn’t a pleasant experience for me that first time, but I will say it got better over time.
Unfortunately, unlike Kelton, Anthony ultimately did have a problem with the way I dressed and the silly way I acted to compensate for my other shortcomings. Actually, it wasn’t so much that he had a problem with it as it was his parents, two local prominent doctors, had a problem with it. I came to quickly realize that I was an embarrassment within their social circles because my clothes were cheap and my accent was too backwoods. We did not end on good terms, but on a happier note…I ran into Kelton about a month after I broke up with Anthony, and I ended up having sex with him just to show him how far I’d come. It was good…really good, but I never went back for seconds. I knew without a doubt Kelton wasn’t my white knight.
And thus was the extent of my romantic experience with men. I suppose it’s why I usually loved to get lost in a good romance novel, because it would let me escape into the fantasy that I hoped to make come true one day. I’m the girl that believes in Cinderella…except I’d prefer to get my master’s first and prove to myself I can be a success all on my own. Then he can move in and sweep me off my feet. Maybe by then I’ll be making enough money to actually put some care into my clothes, get a good haircut, and splurge on some fancy department-store makeup.
My stomach grumbles and I think maybe I’m not interested in my book because I’m actually hungry. I ate a hefty enough dinner with Ben. I made tomato soup and grilled cheese, a meal that was an absolute luxury to someone like me.
Zack had made it clear when he put me in charge of the grocery shopping and meals that he wasn’t a picky eater, nor was Ben, and I could make whatever I liked and they’d be happy with it. That turned out to be true enough, and so this past week I’ve eaten better than I ever have in my life. The best part of all is if I get hungry late at night, I can just go down to the kitchen and get a snack.
Ever since I reached the age of thirteen, I went out of my way to make myself unnoticeable to the opposite sex. This came on the heels of being cornered at my locker at school one afternoon in a deserted hallway by four older boys. Puberty came early to my body and I filled out on top in such a way as to catch the boys’ attention. Because we were so poor, I had no choice in the clothing I wore, which consisted of only Kelly’s hand-me-down stuff, and because she was the type that liked boys at an early age, her stuff tended to be tighter and more revealing. I’m thinking that’s maybe why she got pregnant with her first child when she was sixteen.
At any rate, the boys scared a few years off my life by getting suggestive and grabby with me, making lewd comments about my breasts. When one of them tried to drag me into the boys’ bathroom, I kicked him in the nuts and screamed my head off, which caused one of the teachers to come barreling out of her classroom.
I couldn’t help the tears in my eyes because I was scared out of my mind, and with a shaking voice, I told her what happened.
And do you know what she said to me?
She said, “Well, if you wouldn’t wear clothes like that, the boys wouldn’t notice.”
And you know what else?
I wasn’t even mad at her. Even at thirteen, I was smart enough to realize she had a very good point.
From that day forward, I borrowed my daddy’s T-shirts and sweatshirts to camouflage my shape, I didn’t wear makeup, and I certainly didn’t call attention to my hair. The glasses couldn’t be helped. I needed them to read, but I also realized soon enough they were equally effective as a deterrent, so I kept them on at all times except when I was sleeping.
My boy problem was solved. What I didn’t have in the looks department, I more than made up for by being friendly, outgoing, and funny at school. So I was sort of popular with a wide range of classmates…as popular as a severely poor and nerdy kid can be. My high school years weren’t too totally horrible, and I survived by looking on the bright side of things.
Always.
Unfortunately, by the time I got to college and realized that maybe I’d like the attention of some of the boys, and that my white knight would never find me the way I looked, I really didn’t know what to do with myself. I had no clue how to style my hair or wear makeup, I had no money to buy pretty clothes, and I was almost depressed with the futility of it all.
But then I found out something else about college.
There were so many boys—I mean men—that by the grace of sheer numbers, there were some that were interested in me, just the way I was. At first, granted, they were interested in my brain. I had a grand total of two boyfriends while going to college the last five years, and I met both of them in upper-level classes where the students were taking their schooling seriously.
The first one, Kelton, didn’t last long. He was my first kiss and my first trip to second base, which I found to be wildly exciting, but scary too. My inability to go to third is what killed the relationship. He didn’t seem to mind my lack of style and my generally dorky ways, but he did mind that I wouldn’t put out after a month of dating.
My second boyfriend stayed with me for a year. His name was Anthony and he was a brilliant mathematician. He was also cute in a studious way and was utterly charming to me. We bonded quickly over late-night study sessions and philosophical arguments. Anthony was a virgin, same as me, so both of us were very unsure as to how our relationship should progress. It developed slowly, over time, and eventually we used a twelve-pack of beer to help us bust through our reservations and finally my hymen. It wasn’t a pleasant experience for me that first time, but I will say it got better over time.
Unfortunately, unlike Kelton, Anthony ultimately did have a problem with the way I dressed and the silly way I acted to compensate for my other shortcomings. Actually, it wasn’t so much that he had a problem with it as it was his parents, two local prominent doctors, had a problem with it. I came to quickly realize that I was an embarrassment within their social circles because my clothes were cheap and my accent was too backwoods. We did not end on good terms, but on a happier note…I ran into Kelton about a month after I broke up with Anthony, and I ended up having sex with him just to show him how far I’d come. It was good…really good, but I never went back for seconds. I knew without a doubt Kelton wasn’t my white knight.
And thus was the extent of my romantic experience with men. I suppose it’s why I usually loved to get lost in a good romance novel, because it would let me escape into the fantasy that I hoped to make come true one day. I’m the girl that believes in Cinderella…except I’d prefer to get my master’s first and prove to myself I can be a success all on my own. Then he can move in and sweep me off my feet. Maybe by then I’ll be making enough money to actually put some care into my clothes, get a good haircut, and splurge on some fancy department-store makeup.
My stomach grumbles and I think maybe I’m not interested in my book because I’m actually hungry. I ate a hefty enough dinner with Ben. I made tomato soup and grilled cheese, a meal that was an absolute luxury to someone like me.
Zack had made it clear when he put me in charge of the grocery shopping and meals that he wasn’t a picky eater, nor was Ben, and I could make whatever I liked and they’d be happy with it. That turned out to be true enough, and so this past week I’ve eaten better than I ever have in my life. The best part of all is if I get hungry late at night, I can just go down to the kitchen and get a snack.
