10 rules for dating teenage me

This one is hard.  Cause I didn’t date as a teenager.  We hung out in packs and stuff, and people paired off, but I wasn’t one of those people.  The guys I had crushes on never crushed back, and I wasn’t interested in the guys who had crushes on me.  If there were any.  Maybe my standards were too high.  Or as my family would say, my I was trying to fart higher than my hole.

So it’s hard, because I didn’t date as a teenager.  So I’ll pretend I knew what I wanted.

  1. Ask me.  You don’t know if you don’t ask.  So just ask.
  2. Be friendly and nice.  Don’t do that stupid shit boys do where they tease you when they like you.  That’s annoying.
  3. If you like me, always like me.  Don’t pretend not to like me when your dumbass friends are around.
  4. Be nice to my sister.
  5. Be nice to my parents.
  6. Do some stuff with me that you don’t necessarily want to do, like listening to my stupid girly music or watching chick flicks.  I’ll do the same for you.
  7. Hold my hand.
  8. Be nice to animals.
  9. Stick up for me.
  10. And again, just ask.

I should probably give this list to my kids.

Lately, I’ve been journeying down memory lane a lot.  My daughter just started grade 8 and the friends she’s had all along have been ignoring her and she feels left out.  It breaks my heart.  I remember so well being her age and all the angst that goes along with it.  It’s a wonder any of us survived.  I spent half of my teenage years on a military base, which can be a great place to live as a kid.  We were pretty sheltered.  Not spoiled for choice like kids are in the city.  There was a movie theatre that showed a movie on weekends.  Usually a double feature.  Always several months old — the movies we saw had already been released in the major cities months before.  Everyone went to the movie on the weekend because there was nothing else to do really.  Even if you had seen the movie or didn’t want to see the movie, you went anyway, because everybody else was going.  And movies were cheap.  My friend worked at the theatre (his dad ran the theatre) selling the food.  There was popcorn with real butter and you could buy candy in bulk.  I would always get a paper bag full of assorted Swedish berries.  He would fill my bag up really full as long as I promised to save him the orange ones.  Then later on he’d come sit beside me and I’d give him the orange berries.  He was a good friend.

That story had nothing to do with anything, but I’ve been thinking about it lately.  So there it is.

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