Something really strange happened here last night and I'm still a little freaked out by it. There was a girl. A really stinking cute girl. In my house. Sitting about two inches from Sasquatch in front of the computer. And about every two minutes or so she would flip back her hair and giggle.
Sweet Jesus. It took seventeen years, but the day has come. The party is over.
My friend Laurie came to pick me up for Tuesday night volleyball and headed toward the bathroom as soon as she walked in. I stood mutely in the living room as she headed past the room they were in, watching as his second mother started to call out a cheery "hey, Sasquatch". She stopped dead in her tracks, looked back at me (still standing paralyzed in the living room) and headed straight to the laundry room - the furthest away room - to quietly have a stroke. I met her there, accompanied by the sound of giggling, and we engaged in a manic mime routine that all boiled down to one pertinent question - WTF?
It didn't get any better when we got to volleyball.
"You know they're totally having sex right now, don't you?"
"Have you had the condom talk lately?"
"Funny. You don't look old enough to be a grandma".
"You want me to go sneak in the back door and see what they're doing?"
It was a long ninety minutes.
Today I talked to him about it, knowing full well it was going to be damn near impossible.
"So," I said casually, "she's really just a friend?"
"Uh huh," said he.
"Not a girlfriend, eh?"
"She has a boyfriend," he said. "I've told you that".
"You told me a few months ago that she had a boyfriend. Things change," I replied.
"Well," he said woodenly, "she still has him".
Ah. My boy is in waiting game hell. Now I get it.
"So she's not your girlfriend?"
"Is there anyone you're interested in?"
"Would you tell me if you were?"
"Would you really?"
He looked at me and shot a grin that has become lately become quite fetching. I've seen the way teenage girls look at him, and even though it makes my life flash in front of my eyes, I totally get why.
I understand that when they're seventeen you have to take every bone they throw you, and I get that I've been lucky that it's taken this long to happen. But all night I kept hearing the sound of teenage giggling in my dreams...
And I know it's just a matter of time.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Posted by the rotten correspondent at 12:02 AM