Annie

            “Oh my God, so you’ll never guess what I saw in physics class today!” Annie squealed while slumping down into my menopause purple Honda. I am a nanny (aka replacement parent) and Annie is my 14-year-old charge. At first this comment inspired excitement for me, the girl I spend my days watching and mentoring was showing a passion for physics! Maybe I was doing something right after all. Silly me.

            “What happened?” I asked with a fake gasp.

            “Well Kensie Larson sits next to me in that class and I looked over cause she had like a funny look on her face. Jake Strachota’s desk was like super close to her and his hand was totally up her skirt! She was wearing that Target dress I tried on but didn’t like, you know the red one? I thought it was kind of slutty but I mean, it’s Kensie Larson. She wasn’t even wearing tights with it! I mean I know it’s nice out today, but still it’s like 40 degrees outside, put on some leggings. Anyway, he was totally fingering her in physics class!”

            “Oh my God! WHERE WAS YOUR TEACHER?!” That time I squealed.

            “He was upfront doing something, I don’t know I wasn’t really paying attention.” Of course she wasn’t.

            “Wow.” I was at a loss for anything else to say. The topic failed to retain Annie’s attention and she moved on to the rest of her day but I remained in a vicious state of shock for the rest of the drive home.

Maybe I’m a prude but, at 22, public space is a place that my boyfriends have not yet been granted any kind of access. Is it really kids these days or is it the multitude of other sins we try to blame? Is it instead advertising and saucy television that is leading our children to the forbidden fruit? Or is it simply horses being led to the evolutionary water of a new generation? We know that young adults are engaging in sexual activity earlier than their parents did and the same was true when their parents were adolescents. But where do we draw the line? Each generation is more liberal than the last. That fact is hardly news-worthy. Yet it begs the question, has it gone too far? My admittedly ambiguous moral compass tells me that Kensie Larson’s little adventure falls into the ‘wrong move’ category but I can’t help feeling like a cultural relic. I am confident in my opinion and at the same time very aware that all of a sudden, amidst a sea of 14-year-old girls, I am the old lady in the room.

            Thankfully, Annie has not yet shown an interest in dating. She likes a couple boys at school but hockey remains as her main priority. She continues to accept my sage advise…for now. This stage will not last forever, so for now I am making the absolute most of it, desperately hoping that her moral compass will point a little more due North than Kensie Larson's. 

Jack

     Tonight I'm going out with Jack. This should be a real treat. Jack is an interesting fellow, during his four years at a comfy suburban high school he devoted his life to a christian heavy metal band. If you're thinking this is a contradiction in terms, you're not alone but it was then that he learned music was his absolute and only passion. Years have passed and that has not changed. I met him at a Halloween party I attended with my then ex-boyfriend, Jimmy. Accompanied by two of the least troubled souls at the party, Jack walked in the door. I noted his lack of costume and assumed not rebellion as he claimed, but rather laziness. I was right but it soon became apparent that he does his absolute best to possess a rebel heart. The reality is that, despite his best efforts, he's never been in real trouble and when he thought he was he still maintained his grades and responsibilities. This is a good man, as much as he'd like to be Mick Jagger. He's got dark, shoulder length hair, he regularly sports skinny jeans and keds, he plays guitar in a band (not the same high school band) and he has a cat. His odd taste in music and distinct love for independent film could have been overlooked and chalked up to a feeling of solidarity for the unappreciated and starving artists of this world, but his bicycle and feline pet define him as a true indie man.
     As the Halloween party quieted down, Jack asked for my number and, ignoring my best instincts, I obliged. I heard from him the next day and each day of the two weeks that subsequently passed. We hung out a few times and genuinely had a great time. We continued to text like normal then...nothing. For weeks. All of a sudden the phone lines went frigid cold. Like any fundamentally insane woman would, I went over every detail of our last encounter. We went to go hear some live music. It was a great band, we had a great time, flirted a lot, I made sure not to flirt with his friends and we all had a grand old time together. At the end he kissed me good night and took me home. Nothing happened, everything was peachy but I hadn't heard from him in weeks. I decided to just forget about it. Weeks later I was enjoying Thanksgiving with my family when all of a sudden, who do I hear from? Jack. He wished me a happy Thanksgiving and hoped we would talk soon. I put my phone down with no intention of writing him back, unfortunately for me I've got a nosy sister who loves to meddle. And meddle she did, she texted Jack for me. At that point, a conversation was unavoidable. After much debate, on my part, and a very believable apology, on his part, I agreed to see him again.
       Again, we went out, Again we had a great time, we talked for a while afterwards. And again, he didn't call me for weeks. This time, I don't know if mad was the right word. I could say furious. I could say a little bit amazed, offended. It was a total anomaly and I, again, decided to forget all about it. I went on with my merry life, and moved on to seeing two other guys. Then...in true Jack fashion, out of no where, I heard from the magic disappearing man. Again remorseful and contrite, he asked my forgiveness (I avoided giving him an answer to that question and just let him assume he had my forgiveness though he does not). This time citing a small but apparently now managed drinking problem as the explanation for his extended vow of silence. He asked if he could make it up to me. Now, its time for revenge.
     It isn't going to be anything fantastic, very anti-climactic actually, but the truth is I don't particularly wish to hurt this wandering, wavering soul. I simply want the date I was promised. Once I get dinner and a movie out of this guy, I'm moving on and I'm going to forget all about him. I'll continue to see the other two and I'll continue to see a band Jack once took me to see because I think they're actually great, but Jack...he may call, he may not, I won't be there to answer. So here's to you Jack, ringing my doorbell as I type, cheers to one last dance.

Kimberly

      I know a woman by the name of Kimberly. She was my small group leader in church back in high school. She was 25, self-riteous and always told me to do the right thing. She believed that I always did because she had never stepped a toe out of line in her life. She lives a very short distance from the house in which she grew up, she went to college only an hour away from the town in which she grew up and she has never left the nest of her comfortable little bubble. She tattled on the girls on her cheerleading team when they drank at a party, she didn't touch a drink until she was 21 and drugs of any sort were completely out of her sight and mind. She even tried to make it work when her college boyfriend of four years cheated on her and gave her herpes, yes I'm serious. Her current life goal is to get married, have a couple kids, eat, shit and die.
      Now, six years later, I met her for coffee last night. I ooh-ed and ahh-ed at all the right moments when she showed me her new, shiny engagement ring and told me all about how he proposed but I noticed something different about her and it wasn't a nice bride-ly glow. The second that ring, and that life, hit her finger she ceased to care about anything to do with we mere single women. Once we had exhausted every last excruciating (for me) detail of her new rock the conversation turned to my life, "So what's new with you?!" Kimberly asked with wedding dress shaped stars in her eyes. I told her about what was going on in my life, like she had asked, and I was barely met with passing interest! Evidently my life out in the dating world had become something to be pitied, like I would find happiness one day when I would grow up and get a shiny rock and a piece of paper like hers. When did ownership of a man become the thing that separates the girls from the women? All of a sudden I felt childish talking about my dating hits and misses. Sitting on an overstuffed velvet chair in Starbucks I realized that Kimberly was now too good to spend precious time away from the stove with her lowly, single girl friends. Casey was there with me and she saved the conversation most of the night. I really do owe her this time, she really saved me from myself.
      Maybe I'm being too harsh. Kimberly did take interest in one thing I had to say, I told her that I've decided to move, far away. This is what I heard,
                    "Oh my god that's crazy! You're going to have so much fun! I'm not too worried about losing you though, you'll be back. This is the best place to raise kids."
       Alright, I'll put the assumption that kids are either a goal or a priority on the back burner for now and simply address the idea that she thinks I'm coming back. She went on to talk about how much fun I'm going to have in my new city before I come back here to get married. It was like she was re-assuring me that one day I too would find a man and get married like her. Problem one: Because she thinks the world is a big bad place, she is predicting my apparently evident failure. Not that I think she knows me at all but I thought she would be smart enough to know that I am not made of glass. Problem two: She assumes, and predicts, that I want nothing more in this life than a man, house and life like hers.
      Here's what I didn't say to Kimberly. I didn't have the heart to tell her that sooner or later, she would wish she had gone out and lived a life like mine. I'm going to move away and forget all about her in her domestic glory. I am going to look back fondly on the years we spent chatting our single follies away and end the memory with yea, I haven't heard from her in a while, she got married and we fell out of touch. Kimberly is going to live vicariously through the post cards and emails I'll send her for a couple years while her life turns into a colorless, humdrum string of parent teacher conferences and marriage councilors. These were thoughts I kept to myself. While she sat in her high horse chair telling me all about how not worried she was about me finding a husband, I sat and thought about all the things I was going to let her learn on her own all on her own.

Damon

Let's chat about Damn Damon shall we? He's no one special in my life, just someone I know around town. I've known him for about six years now and I've probably spent more time with my dentist than Damon. He's much taller than me, standing somewhere around 6'3" or so, very fit and generally good looking. Here's the thing about Damon, he's got this whole country hick persona that he likes to rock despite the fact that he grew up in an urban suburb with the rest of us. He drives a pick up truck, smokes, hunts, goes muddin', drives with a confederate window sticker on his truck, the whole bit. In reality, he has only slightly less tolerance for people than any normal person and when he finds something he likes he sticks with it; his friends, jobs, cars, everything except women. For as long as I've known Damon his women have had two things in common, whether they were girl friends or "special friends", they're young and/or worship him. I don't know whether it's an insecurity thing or an over confidence thing but he waits for women to come to him, and they always do. The concept of winning a woman over is totally foreign to him. He'll do no work and wait for a girl to come to him rather than work to win the affection of someone who might turn him down. Whatever girl he's with at any given moment in time, he doesn't bring her around his friends too often, those parts of his life are kept separate more often than not. What I will say for Damon is when he finally finds it in his soul to like something or somebody he really does turn into a decent person. As cavalier and uncaring as he is to the rest of the world, when it comes to the things he cares about he's a different person.
      My experience with Damon has been...shall we say interesting up until now. We took some classes together six years ago, back then I wanted to see if he had the capacity to be a decent human being, I had heard some bad things. Admittedly, I was shocked when I figured out he wasn't that bad. I harbored a little crush for about a minute before I moved on and moved away. When I came back to my home town I'd see him at a bonfire or a party when I had nothing better to do or when my plans had fallen through. He was a decent guy, we didn't talk very much and I never saw him outside the odd summer party. I ran into him at a bar a few months ago with a friend of mine, Casey, and after bar close the party quickly moved to someone else's house, of course. Who quits drinking at bar close anyway? Oh yea, smart people. We hung around for a bit and wouldn't you know it, another friend called me in desperate need of a ride home. This genius found himself trashed on a college campus without his friends and without any way home. Wonderful. I started to walk out to my car and Damon stopped me, "Where are you going?"
       "Oh, a friend of mine needs a ride home"
       "You're leaving?"
       "Ha yea, I have to take him home"
       "Are you coming back" This was the part that puzzled me. When I turned around there was a genuine concern on his face that I've never seen directed at anyone before, much less me. It felt like he wanted to come over and hold me, I'm still not sure about it. There was a weird feeling about it. I could tell he wanted to say something else but he was getting in his own way. Damon holds everyone at an arms length and for a second, it felt like I was closer.
       "I hadn't thought too much about it, I don't know"
       "You shouldn't leave, you should come back"
       "Why do you want me to come back, Damon?"
And then we were interrupted by the arrival of someone else. I've probably spent way too much of my time wondering about what his answer would have been. Would he have said what I wanted to hear? Was he just trying to get me in the sack? My cynicism, and the better part of me, says that was probably the case but a little part of myself wants to think he was going to say something real. I guess not knowing is better, I can make it up for myself. Every once in a long while fantasy is better than reality. I did go back to the party and nothing happened with Damon, he never made another move so I went home.  
      Well, a few months passed, I never heard from him and I had all but forgotten about the whole thing. Then, a couple nights ago I was hanging out with an old friend who mentioned a party going on the next night and I decided to go because I had no other plans and I wanted to see some of the people there. Damon was there. He didn't make a single move the whole night. I was pretty busy talking to some other old friends I found at the gathering. I guess I didn't really notice that I hadn't talked to him until I got home. Then, stupid drunk me kicked in. I texted him. There's some good news. The both of us drunk as skunks and having a text conversation, what could go wrong there? Well, he's a typical guy and after a while he asked me a typical guy question. He wanted me to send him a picture of my chest area. Of course, I said no. I have to draw the line somewhere. But he wouldn't let it go and wouldn't let it go so then I did something that surprises me even now.
       No, I did not send him a picture of myself, I googled. I googled pictures of other people and sent him one of those. He bought it, he believed it was me and I don't feel bad about it. But I'm a little surprised at how easy it was. He was totally satisfied with something he could have found himself with a couple clicks of a mouse. It was that simple.
      Now I'm curious to see what's going to happen next. I haven't heard from him, granted it was last night and I am battling a fair hang over myself, but it will be interesting I think. Will he just rule me a slut and forget about me? Will he be any more intrigued? I'm not sure that I care but it's an interesting case study I think. How does mankind handle this type of interaction? Will I ever hear from him again? I don't know and I think that's the best thing about all of this. I don't love him, I'm not even sure if I like being in the same room with him not that I think about it. I think I just like that he's a challenge. I can figure most people out in a matter of a couple conversations, it's easy for me to understand who they are but Damon...he's full of statistical anomalies. I think I've got him figured out and then he does something like beg me to come back to a party. I don't want to date him, I don't even want to sleep with him but then again I never know. He interests me, he's the first person in a long time to confound me on a basic level. He's not just uncharted territory, he's a totally undocumented culture to me. I think I love him for that. Here's to peeling back the layers...

Angela

This is my ode to a friend I used to have named Angela. She was a gangly kind of ugly duckling in high school, glasses and all. We had grown up attending the same schools and through the grapevine we came to be friends around 10th grade. We were never really that close. Insecure to the core to this day, she was obnoxious then and never thrown a care to the feelings of those around her. She was either loved or hated, even my apathy leaned towards love because of her guts. When we went away to college, much to my surprise, we stayed in close contact. She was a good person who always took my calls and did all the things good friends do. For four years we carried this friendship on like it was fucking unstoppable.
      Then I broke up with the boyfriend, Jimmy. I heard from her less and less. Before I knew it a few weeks had gone by and I hadn't talked to her. Her responses became more and more spaced out until, finally I hadn't talked to her in a month. Ok. We constantly made plans to hang out when she was in town, that she unceremoniously broke every time. While she was away at school she had developed a new and infatuous love of the drink, oh yea and a boy. Whenever the boy blew her off, which he did early and often, she fell more in love with the bottle. When I look back on it, realizing how much of a cliche all of this was, the fact that I desperately tried to save our friendship makes me laugh at how stupid and kind I used to be. She continued to ignore me and I continued to make rescue attempts, until now.
       Now she hangs out with a girl she hated in high school, Martina, because that's the only person left who will take her calls. Martina is still an ugly duckling but she is neither funny nor kind. She's a mean girl and the kind that believes she will feel better about herself as long as she talks smack about others. Angela and Martina have this in common. They're friendship becomes less of a mystery as I explore their twisted and exact similarities. I forgot to mention that Martina is the only person left in Angela's life who won't say "Hey, don't you think we should stay in tonight? It's the day after Christmas and its Sunday, let's just hang out". This kind of attitude is a problem for Angela. The only thing to take away her sorrow in that scenario is food and she's terrified of gaining weight. So, she drinks. Every night, all night now that she's dropped out of school, with her new best friend Martina. I forgot to mention, she will now sleep with any warm blooded person who manages to stumble into her bed. Well, the warm blooded part is optional now I suppose. Where she once enjoyed a life of dignified virginity she now wallows in her green sheeted sea of disrespect and cum.
      Angela is a person I will run into at high school reunions or in the grocery store when I'm home for the holidays ten years from now. She'll still be here, in all her manic absurdity. She will probably marry the first person who will have her and they'll buy a nice little house no more than six blocks from the house she grew up in. 2.5 kids and a dog, she'll do it all. I hope she'll be happy with it, its all she'll ever be able to do.