When I Was Eleven

Pamela asked what her readers remembered from when they were eleven. I'm more than a little late for the party, but I'm throwing this out there anyway just to put a little context into my miserable inadequacies. But also because I'd like to understand why I can't enjoy a "normal" life like everyone seems to. I wish more bloggers would relate their formative events, that's why I've been enjoying Rita's Girly Place so much. Her story isn't exactly my cup of tea, but she's giving her entire history. Anyway. . .

I was very young for my class, and little to boot. Still, I was reasonably athletic, headstrong and smart as a whip. That had held me in good stead with the fellows. Certainly not the most popular, respected if not admired, I had always been a leader.

However, unbeknown to me that was changing as guys were gaining an appreciation of girls that for me was still very abstract. My older brother had given me notions that were really pure mystery although I simple-mindedly thought I understood. I hadn't yet solved "what a girl feels like" even though climbing a pole stopped working somewhere along the way. And hell, just to make it perfectly clear, I still hadn't even discovered my true first love--jerking off!

Over the summer from sixth to seventh grade two new girls moved into our neighborhood. School had started a few days before and I wouldn't be 12 for a week or so. We all bounced along on in the hot noisy bus, I was blissfully ignorant of the changes in my friends who were trying to make time with Sue and Diane.

A long ago forgotten question was asked by an unremembered individual. I matter-of-factly supplied the correct answer. Diane stared coldly and in the iciest voice I've ever heard said, "who the fuck asked you?"

That's it. Those five words changed my life. Or at least I let them. I began an awful downward spiral toward insignificance that would last well into high school. There was no recompense in Diane being unequivocally established as an absolute bitch in the middle school social hierarchy. The rumor became that her family had transferred into our school district because her parents had caught her having sex with an older guy who they had arrested for statutory rape. Who knows if it was true?

Maybe she just stole somebody's boyfriend. Maybe she'd french kiss on the first date, or maybe she'd suck dick. The "good" girls didn't like her--maybe because she was passed from boy to boy. I wouldn't know, but I wanted to. Sickest of all, her contempt made me take notice. She crushed my status and awakened desire. I dreamed of "nice" girls too, but I secretly lusted for Diane until she moved away two years later.