Back to School – All Those Girls You Had A Crush On In High School
Some times, I think about how cool it would be to go back to my hometown, find all the girls that I didn’t have a chance with in high school, and fuck them.
I ran into this dude I always see out clubbing. Full natural dude.
“There’s this chick I went to high school with. She was always a total bitch to me. She came up on Facebook. I just want to meet up with her, and fuck her.”
“Dude. I understand completely.”
“Yeah – and the best part is, I just went to the sexual health clinic the other day and found out I have chlamydia – so I can give it to her!”
“Noooo – that’s crossing the boundary.”
He just laughed.
There’s this chick that I used to bone in Maitland, Amity – she didn’t go to my high school though. The last I heard from her was when her Facebook status came up saying something about her baby. Her profile picture was a picture of her baby, and a down-shirt cleavage shot. Those things were E cups when I left – they must be even huger now. If I still lived there, I would call her up and say “Fuck your boyfriend bitch, I want some arse tonight!” and suck on those titties like there was no tomorrow. My milk bitch!
You see, a man’s got to have an ambition in life.
I had a huge crush on this girl in ninth grade. Her name was Rapunzel. She had a reputation of being a slut because she gave some guy a handjob at a party. I thought it was silly. I gave myself handjobs all the time and I wasn’t a slut.
Somehow she heard that I liked her. One day in history class she called out my name from behind me, and held up her pencilcase that said “I <3 Turd” – that was my nickname in high school. I thought she was joking, maybe even that she was taking the piss out of me, so I never asked her out. I was too shy to do anything about it. Later I realised that hey, maybe she actually did like me back. But that was in high school.
I saw her at a club one night. Ran into her outside. She looked a lot uglier than I remember. Her face looked all puffy. Maybe she’d had her wisdom teeth out.
“What’s your number?” I said. This was in the days of doom so it was a big step for me.
“You wouldn’t want my number – I’m a terrible person. I’m a huge bitch. Isn’t that right Sally?” She turned to her friend. Her friend looked at her dubiously.
“I must insist,” I said – possibly in the geekiest way possible.
She saw that I wasn’t going to give up without anything. She said “okay, if you must have my number – there’s only one Symanski in the phone book.” She had a Polish last name that was rare in that area. I was satisfied, even elated. I went home, and the next day I looked through the White Pages. She was right – there was only one Symanski in the phone book. But it wasn’t her. It was some guy who lived in Greta, about 50 km away. It was the same Symanski I’d seen in the phone book when I’d looked her name up when I was in year 9.
I ran into her once in Newcastle. She had a shaved head. I opened my mouth to say hi. She snubbed me.
A year later, I saw her walking down Beaumont Street with a pram. She snubbed me.
Another couple of years, and I saw her, again on Beaumont Street. Actually, I didn’t see her at first. She saw me. I saw her cute blonde friend. The blonde smiled at me, and checked me out. Rapunzel was holding hands with a girl, whom I assume was her girlfriend.
Though she avoided looking at me directly, I could feel that she was very consciously avoiding me. She didn’t realise, but she wasn’t seeing me as I was that day. She saw me as I was five years before. Though I was standing up straight, with good posture, and short hair – she saw me as slouched, bad posture, with long hair. I didn’t mind. Though I wish I’d went up and started chatting the cute blonde, without acknowledging Rapunzel. Or what if I’d gone up and started chatting up her girlfriend, just to see what would happen.
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Comments (1)
AH, all the girls you’d love to have a crack at, when you were in Highschool, with the knowledge of life you have now…… dreams like that never come true. all you can hope for is finding one of those girls later in life, hook up and get her to dress in her old school uniform. That’s as close to heaven a mere mortal can hope for. *Thats if you believe in that Heaven shit.
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