Where it happened: school
Langauge: English
Sex: Male
Rating: 1
Category: Straight
It’s one of those events that you will probably keep replaying in your mind for the
rest of your life. At least, it is for me. I was 13 years old, and in the eighth grade. I
wasn’t part of the “in” crowd (never will be, but I’ve come to grips with that), but I had
a lot of friends, many of whom were. I was one of those guys that girls would come
to – to spill their guts out and to cry on my shoulder, but it never came to more than
that. I had so many crushes, and I would keep getting my hopes up, until they
would be crushed (hence the name!) and I would shift my attention elsewhere.
Except for one: Megan.
Megan was only half a year younger than me, but she was in the seventh grade.
We’d had first period class together for three years – German, for those of you who
must know – and we’d always sat together with two of my close friends, at one end
of the horseshoe of tables. She was without a doubt the best looking girl in the
middle school. Every guy there would have given his left arm (probably not his
right, given the age we were at!) to go out with her. She was the perfect build, not
too thin, but hardly fat. She had long, shiny reddish-golden hair, and beautiful blue
eyes. She went out often, but never alone with a guy, never knew whether it was
her parents or just her inclination, so nobody ever had a chance with her.
We used to have dances once or so every month, organized by the eighth graders
on the Student Council to make themselves feel important. I’d go every once in a
while, meeting up with my best friend at the subway station and then, after an illicit
cigarette, hopping on the bus to take us up to school.
It must have been October, because it wasn’t yet snowing but it was cold enough to
warrant a light jacket. That night my friend was sick so I went up alone. When I got
to the bus stop outside the subway station, my closest girlfriend, Lisa, was waiting.
Lisa was the closest girl I had ever come to having a real relationship (well, as real
as possible at 13!) with. We had kissed and stuff on a train during a school trip, but
nothing had ever come of it. She must have been in her Michael (my second best
friend) stage at the time, because all she could do on the ride up to school was to
complain about how he didn’t seem to be interested in her.
Anyways, we showed up around 8 or so, and walked into the auditorium where the
dances were always held. We paid the requisite two dollar admission, had some
Disney character stamped on our wrists as proof of payment, and walked into the
auditorium. They were playing Bon Jovi (hey, it WAS the 80’s!) and I met up with
some of the guys. We decided to duck out for a smoke (Marlboro Lights!) and we
started shooting the shit, the usual young teen stuff – “whose boobs are bigger than
whose” – you know.
When we got back to the dance, Megan was standing in the corner with a gaggle of
her friends, doing the female equivalent of what we had just been doing, and
drinking some God awful soft drink wannabe cocktail that the Geology Club or
something had put together to raise some dough. Our eyes met and we did the
ritual nod at each other, and then I went off chatting with people here and there.
The DJ put on some sappy slow song, and we all paired up to dance. I forget who
exactly it was that I danced with, but at some point during the dance, my hands
slipped down from her back to below the belt line. I couldn’t very well move them,
that would have been too obvious, so I just stood there and continued to dance until
the song stopped. My partner didn’t even seem to notice. Needless to say, I was
aroused by the feel of her soft warmth, and went off in search of something to drink
to cool me off!
As I paid for a drink and was about to walk back into the auditorium, Megan came
up to me. She was wearing a cute black t-shirt, just tight enough to be provocative,
without being showy, and a pair of matching black jeans. She asked me if we could
talk, and naturally I said yes. She had never done that before, so I was shocked,
but I figured, hey, why not. The dance was lame; we weren’t missing much. We
went upstairs to the classroom level to the hastily-constructed “Student Lounge” –
the campaign brainchild of the past year’s Student Council.
Before I continue, I have to tell you that I had no idea at all of what was to come. I
just figured that, for the umpteenth time, I would sit there, listen to somebody’s
problems, and receive only a smile and a hug for my efforts. (FINE! Don’t believe
me!)
We sat down and she smiled and started to pour out her heart to me about this guy
in my class – Nick – the “big man on campus” (however big a middle school could
be!) who she wanted to go out with but her parents wouldn’t let her. You see,
Megan’s father was a teacher at the school and knew all the students. We talked
about parents, then the conversation moved to guys.
As Megan basically ran through the faults of the entire male population of the class,
I sat there, smiling and frowing on cue, picking up the pieces of the gossip and
throwing in more of my own. Finally, she asked, “I’ve never figured out why you
don’t you have a girlfriend! You’re really nice, and cute, and you’re such a great
listener.”
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