I went to school with a girl who, for the purposes of this post, I’ll refer to as Esh. Esh wasn’t exactly the nicest person around, partly due to the fact that she was prone to telling fibs to make her seem a bit cooler.
None greater was the fib when she cornered me in the girls bathroom one day. I believe the conversation went a bit as follows –
Esh – “Guess what!”
Me – *blinks*
Esh – “I’ve got a boyfriend. He’s older than me, he plays basketball. And we had sex.”
Me – *blinks twice*
Keep in mind that neither of us were of the age of legal consent at the time. Also, Esh lied. A lot.
But I didn’t quite realize that she was lying about this as well. I was just completely fascinated. Esh had an older boyfriend, and he was athletic. It was a standard I could only dream of reaching – and she’d done a bit of under the belt action with him as well. Or so she claimed.
I was still fascinated. And, deep inside, there was a bubble of longing. I don’t think it was for sex – rather, I was longing for affection. To be held, to be told that I was worthy, to feel safe.
It was a complicated time in my life.
I think I was a bit jealous of Esh, as well. From the way she went about, she clearly had self-confidence (or was very good at faking it).
Anyway, the crowning moment in the saga of Esh and her basketball player had to be when we went to see his team play. A couple of us were gagging to meet this bloke she’d been talking about. Only, she was a bit reluctant in introducing him…
To this day, I’m not even sure he existed. But hey, if it made her feel better to tell us he did….