bitterisataste . . . words and ramblings . . . v.6.0

Sunday, March 08, 2009

this entry brought to you by danzig, "deep"

My daughter's school was having a carnival of sorts. There were about a dozen inflatable rides there, and about twenty games where the kids could win prizes, as well as a bunch of sponsors selling frozen smoothies, hamburgers, and other county fair type stuff. Running the booths and rides were a few of the sixth graders, but it was obvious that most of the teens helping out were in junior high, possibly even as old as freshman in high school but definitely not any older, and they were probably mostly the children of some of the teachers.

There was one boy, probably in the eighth grade, running one of the rides. He was tall, reasonably good looking, but most definitely not a jock type. Seemed a nice enough kid.

We walked away from that ride, went to go eat something, and went to another ride, and the same kid was running that one instead of the previous one. I'd wondered why he wasn't running the previous ride, thought perhaps he was covering in for someone. Then I saw why I'd decided to wander over.

An incredibly gorgeous, tall, leggy Mexican girl about his age came over carrying two drinks, one for him and one for her. He'd obviously walked over to be with her. And who the hell wouldn't want to? This girl was a frigging knockout, all legs, long, gorgeous black hair, and a smile that could send goose bumps up a boy. For a moment it made me think about what it was like being that age. The weird thing about being a boy in the eighth grade is that you have no interest in eighth grade girls-- you spend all your time lusting after girls older than you, that you have no chance in the world with. It was funny seeing her and thinking, wow, in retrospect, what the hell was I thinking? There was plenty to go on when I was that age and I completely ignored it. It was hard to believe that this is what eighth graders looked like when I was in the eighth grade.

I watched the two of them for a few minutes while my daughter went on the ride multiple times, and it's funny how easily the chemistry between two teenagers is immediately apparent when you have the benefit of age. For the record, the guy was being an awesome guy. Mildly flirty, but extremely attentive to everything she had to say, was gentle, wasn't being overt, wasn't being the douche bag that guys his age can be. They were obviously friends, and it was obvious that he didn't have to be a jerk to get to where he was.

He was obviously utterly head over heels for her, little hearts hovering above his head. Even though from his perspective he was merely being cool-- and accomplishing it-- from the perspective of a man twice his age, it was obvious his heart went a flutter when she came by.

It was also obvious that she thought he was the coolest, nicest guy in the world. Which, if you remember eighth grade, is almost an entirely different league than a guy that would make her heart go aflutter the way she did his. I suppose eighth grade girls probably have the exact same problem boys do in having no interest in boys their age. Boys mature slower than girls, and girls think boys that are older than them are so sophisticated. Boys that age don't like girls that age because in just a few years they'll be a full cup size bigger.

When she walked away to check up on the kids on the ride I wanted to take him aside and give him a pep talk. "You're almost there, man. You're at the 10 yard line. You're so close you can taste it! Spring it in to action, man! You don't want to get stuck! Give it that final push! Don't let that clock run out on you, man, or else you'll be stuck standing there and everybody's left the stadium! You can do it! Now go out there and get 'er, tiger! Let her know who's the man! I've got faith in you! Make me proud!"
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with love from CRS @ 9:01 AM

Sunday, March 08, 2009

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