Reading Mrs. Nesbitt's post yesterday about young love reminded me of all of the stupid things we do when we are young. Then I started thinking about those moves Mrs. Nesbitt fell for and I thought about all of the stupid moves boys make. You know the ones. Firsts are memorable and fun but they also sometimes make us feel a little silly.
Before being housewives, we were all out there in the dating world. I graduated high school having barely been kissed. That's another story, though. I'm not going to go into the details of how one could have barely been kissed either. You can just know that I didn't go out with boys who had "the moves." Those weren't the kind who asked me out.
When I got to college I learned all sorts of stuff that wasn't in books.
I learned that some people went home to have their laundry done every weekend.
I learned that I was the only one whose mom finally asked, "Why do you keep calling me?" That was awkward. Most parents want you to call?
I learned that if you have a two-seater car, you will never be picked to drive (awesome).
I learned that not everyone was as serious about grades as I was.
I learned that every activity we did would require purchasing a t-shirt to prove we were there.
I learned that I liked not having a curfew.
I also learned the difference between kool-aid and trash can punch. Big difference.
A couple of days before classes started there was a dance at the dorms. Being idiot freshmen, my roommate and I thought this was going to be a great way to meet people. We knew absolutely no one and thought everyone would be there. Turns out everyone was only dormrats and dorks. The highlight (and absolute end) of our evening was when some freak started dancing with us and said, "I'm an Aquarius! What's your sign?"
You see, I knew that was a line. Until then, I didn't know people actually used it but I knew it was a line. But no one had warned me about the trickery that goes on. There were more subtle ways.
A couple of months later I was asked on a date. I thought he was really cute. I'd met him when I attended a party with one of his fraternity brothers. This was the first guy to actually interest me on the entire college campus, and he pursued me in all the right ways. I thought he was one of the good guys. Sheesh.
I was not your typical 18 year old. I wasn't interested in the wild and crazy types, and that was the predominant showing in the college male traits. I was a little skittish of the menfolk, and my reputation meant everything to me. In retrospect, I think that was the challenge for him.
This perfect boy took me to dinner and then a movie. Instead of driving me back to the dorm, he heads back to the frat house where he lives. You know, just to hang out. We joke around and play basketball in his room. We talk and talk. I'm nervous but he has totally sold me. He has made himself seem to be the perfect male. He has hopes and dreams. He wants a houseful of kids. *Swoon*
Even more perfect when he tells me that they have a puppy in their loft.
Oh, how I love puppies.
The draw is too strong. My intellect says there are not puppies in their loft. It just wouldn't make sense.
My heart says - puppies!
After a good long stare, I head up that ladder and into the loft.
It is at that moment that I realize that the room is dark. That perfect boy is right behind me. He spins me around and kisses me good. And when he is done he says, "I can't believe that line really worked."
So, maybe I kissed him a little more before I turned on him.
Funny as it was, I don't like being lied to, and I was played like a fiddle.
He took me home shortly after and I walked through the halls of that frat house with whoops and hollers from his frat brothers.
All he got was a little kissin' but he let them believe it was more. This really hacked me off.
With my head held high, I walked the walk of shame and I was only ashamed of falling for the puppy line.
Stupid, stupid girl.
Mothers - warn your daughters... puppies don't live in lofts.
I never trusted puppy talk since.
Now kittens, they could actually live in a loft...
~ Mrs. Priss