High School Girlfriend #1

Your first girlfriend, you’re 13 and she’s 14, and she seems beautiful to you, even though she’s not all that pretty in reality and is kind of a bitch. But you ignore the extra 20 pounds and the plain face, pretend like her bitchiness is sassiness (there’s a huge difference), and keep going on awkward dates that your mom has to drive you to. You sit at frozen yogurt and look at her while she looks at you, and you eat half of your yogurt and talk to her about school, because you have nothing else in common. Do you even like her? You certainly think you do. But a few months go by, and you realize that tongue kissing isn’t getting any more fun, and she doesn’t really have the kind of body you want to go any further with, and this opens up more and more revolutionary areas of your brain, and soon you’re a regular Bonaparte with your thoughts: why is she such a fucking bitch to me all the time? and I’m better looking than her anyways. Then you start bringing the Revolution to your friends, talking shit about her and how she doesn’t let you touch her tits (you don’t even think about what’s between her legs, you're not that mature) but it’s not like you want to anyways because they aren’t all that nice, and they’re telling you to break up with her, and now you feel like you have a rationale. So you call her, because you’re a total pussy and there’s no way you could do this in person. It goes something like you say that you like her a lot, but....and she interjects,saying if you want to break up it’s okay, she can deal with it. This is it, this is perfect, she’s making it so easy, you think, so you decide to go for it. But you kind of bitch out and just say that you should just take a break,which is kind of an asshole move because you have no intentions of this break ever ending, but before the details can be hashed out you hang up the phone as fast as you can and hope that she never talks to you again. Of course, you’re in all the same classes at school so this isn’t a very hopeful hope, as far as hopes go. But what are you gonna do? You continue sitting next to her in the same classes as always, except it’s slightly more awkward now, and you sit there and wonder why you ever dated her, although you’re still proud of the fact that you had a girlfriend before your friends did. And then one day a few weeks later she sits next to someone else in history class, and you kind of feel like shit but you don’t know why, and you sigh, and because history class is boring you nod off, and as you fall asleep she begins to fade out of your consciousness, and out of your life, and soon she’s as distant a memory as she will be four years from now when you’re writing about her, just a flickering shadow of past semi-affections cast by a dim, person-shaped lamp that stands in the back of your head collecting dust.