When we were teenagers - she about 17, I; 14-15, she was outside playing sweetheart in the shadow of the camper of my mothers truck; I was playing lookout when she ran inside all smiles and giddiness saying "He wants to kiss me! What should I do? What should I do??"
They had been friends since basic school (PreK) and we had no idea he "liked her liked her", she didn't like him "like that", plus there was a boy at school that she liked and who liked her even though they'd not done anything beyond pine after each other and perhaps flirt. T was both chaste and well chaperoned, and I was the adventure seeking rebel of the litter (of two) who was already getting into shit loads of trouble, that girl should have known better than to ask my advice.
Using a few well placed questions (I was born rational.. really!) - what about what's his face at school? Do you like like boy outside? Do you want to? (of course the answer was yes, no matter how chaste or well chaperoned what teenage girl doesn't want to be kissed?), and knowing that iron grip mummy might never slip and let her have a crack at boy at school, it was agreed that she should toss everything to the wind - or hormones and poor decision making and in my words "Just do it" Just do it" - "Nike" and go kiss boy outside.
A few hours later she came back inside purple lipped and probably smiling until we discovered HUUGE UNHIDABLE dark bruises all over her neck thanks to hoover lips. Seriously, I'm talking about the mothers mothers mother of all hickies that would not budge, and trust me we combed with the desperation of teenagers who knew our lives depended on it. Visualise with me for a moment.. if you knew your life, your future, your chance to see the light of day EVER again depended on being able to banish hickies with a comb.. how hard would you work? Exactly.. we tried damn hard, hell we even took a brush to the damn things!
Needless to say my mom saw them next morning and arrived at the obvious conclusions
a: hickies, and
b: she had obviously not done a good enough job of keeping T away from boy at school.
Mummy was so mad T was banned from any contact with boy at school, and T was so mad she never let hoover lips near her again. She never confessed that it wasn't poor boy at school who'd never even had the courage to try anything like that, because if Mummy knew there was more than one cause for concern she would probably have fashioned a chastity belt immediately of whatever was within reach.. which might have been T's neck, AND never let her see the light of day again. Now if you ask me.. two hours of intense kissing was completely worth it... cause I don't think boy at school would ever have had the balls or the chance to kiss her anyhow.
Not only did I get her into trouble, it was also the piece of bad advice that kept on giving for the better part of ten years because our mother who is like a dog with a bone never let her forget her horrible "transgresson against ironmother". Anyhow, she's never stopped asking my advice, and when it's a situation where it's obvious she should go on ahead and just do it, I always say "Nike" and she laughs and says "I don't know if I should listen to you, when you say that I end up getting into a shit load of trouble." If you ask me, that's a good thing, because it's great to solicit feedback.. but even the most well meaning advice should be taken with a grain of salt.
To be honest though, even though I said so, I really don't think that was bad advice.. hours and hours of kissing... a long running joke that reminds us how happy we are to have each other and how far we've come every single time we giggle about it, plus a great life lesson... I don't think anyone could really dispute how well I did by her - 'cept ironclad mummy, and she doesn't count.
I think I'm at a point in my own life where I need to apply my own advice liberally, but when you're at a crossroads it's tough to ferret out the options.. much less make a decision and "nike". In the meantime... I am so grateful for ironclad mummy, who has mellowed into something a teeny bit more flexible and comfy to lean on, and for T whose existence adds more to my life everday and beyond anything I could have imagined.
Here is apostrophe:purple, which I think is coming along well considering I really hated it at first, but I refused to be defeated by its ugly so I kept plugging away at it... and lemme tell you... there were days I kicked it away or turned it facedown cause I couldn't stand to look at it anymore.
p.s.I'd also like to add that ironclad mummy had no cause for concern... T brought her virginity tightly clutched into her twenties and gifted it to the man who is now her husband.
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