Nobody's Fool

  1. Nobody's Fool

If my dating life was dwindling in middle school, it came to a complete halt in high school, for a variety of reasons. First of all, high school was far too stimulating--there was a musical to audition for, athletic teams to join, student council meetings to attend, and of course, lots of homework. I mean, if I was going to get accepted to some prestigious, far-away-from-Fargo university, I needed all A's and a laundry list of extra-curriculars.

Another reason might have been the "sex talk" that my dad gave me.

I don't remember what prompted it, but one night, he knocked on my door and sat down next to me on my bed, a little awkward about having to go into Serious Dad Mode.

"You're in high school now. And I know there's a lot of pressure to do stuff with boys. Mom told me I should probably give you my two cents since I'm your dad. And I know you're already pretty smart. But if I could give you some advice, it would be this: just. . .don't be a slut."

I laughed.

"Daaad, no duuuh."

He went on. "There were some girls like that at my school, and well. . .we kinda liked 'em, but. . .at the end of the day, we didn't really like 'em."

That was the most effective thing my dad could have said--perhaps it was too effective. How could you know if a boy really liked you? How could you know what a boy was really thinking at any given time? You couldn't. And since sexual activity seemed to come standard with a dating relationship, at least at my high school, ending up someone's fool was a very real possibility.

Plus, there was this really cruel term I had heard floating around the hallways: "Butter Face." The boys would say it about you if they liked your body but not your face.

"Everything is hot but her face."

High school boys and I wordlessly agreed not to date each other. They didn't come after me, I didn't worry about impressing them.

Honestly, I hardly noticed them at all. I was much too busy dogging the steps of my new favorite teacher, trying to figure out what I could do to impress her. . .

Sarah Weik

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