A Reminiscence of Adolescence
Oct. 5th, 2020 12:59 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ndrosenWhen I was fourteen, there was this beautiful thirteen year old girl, Stephanie (not her real name; I’m changing it to spare her any possible embarrassment), who sometimes babysat my younger siblings. Why didn’t my parents just leave me in charge? I was at daggers drawn with the blond brats, and my parents were, at least as I saw it, unsympathetic to me. A couple of years earlier, they had left me home, although without authority, while they were out for a couple of hours in the day. My brother had acted out, I had been driven to take my first adult aspirin, and when my parents got home, my father decided not to pay me the dollar I had been promised; I wasn’t allowed to discipline the brat, but I was blamed for his refusal to behave himself.
So anyway, Stephanie. After my younger brother and sister had gone to bed, I emerged from my room, and asked Stephanie for permission to socialize with her, which she granted. I planted myself on a separate piece of furniture, told her jokes, and we exchanged book recommendations, and had a good time. Then I thanked her for the pleasure of her company, and excused myself. Her face lit up; then I said goodnight and returned to my own room.
The next time we encountered each other, she seemed much impressed by my virtue.
I don’t think that it was until much later that I thought about this as an instance of the low expectations for the behavior of teenage boys, or wondered why, if she thought that I was likely to try to get physical, and she did not want me to, she said that I could be in the living room with her. Possibly it was a matter of being socialized not to stand up for herself; likely, she too had hormones urging her to flirt with the opposite sex, even at risk of anything from an unwelcome hug on up.
So anyway, Stephanie. After my younger brother and sister had gone to bed, I emerged from my room, and asked Stephanie for permission to socialize with her, which she granted. I planted myself on a separate piece of furniture, told her jokes, and we exchanged book recommendations, and had a good time. Then I thanked her for the pleasure of her company, and excused myself. Her face lit up; then I said goodnight and returned to my own room.
The next time we encountered each other, she seemed much impressed by my virtue.
I don’t think that it was until much later that I thought about this as an instance of the low expectations for the behavior of teenage boys, or wondered why, if she thought that I was likely to try to get physical, and she did not want me to, she said that I could be in the living room with her. Possibly it was a matter of being socialized not to stand up for herself; likely, she too had hormones urging her to flirt with the opposite sex, even at risk of anything from an unwelcome hug on up.
