A Guy's View
By Brad J.
September 2, 2002
'Sup? The title of this month's column is "Girls are Mysterious Creatures", and it's about how I came to this conclusion. A few months ago I started dating a girl who for the purposes of this column I'll refer to as "Sheila" since I can't remember her name. The first moment I laid eyes on her as she sat down next to me in study hall, I wanted to do her. I played it cool at first; over the years I've learned how to be smooth and give the ladies what they want so I can get what I need. Coming on too strong too fast with one girl when I was in the ninth grade didn't exactly lead me to her jewelry box--it lead to a court date--so these days I just do what is necessary to let the girl know I'm interested and then let her come to me. Anyway, Sheila could tell right away I was interested by the way I kept eyeing her breasts and then looking away quickly when she would notice, and the way I would drop my pencil on the other side of her and then lean way over her lap to pick it up. My technique is subtle, yes, but at least this way I don't end up in a jail cell or doubled over from a knee in the groin. But I did excuse myself to the bathroom to put on a cup just in case.
Anyway, to make a long story short, later that week Sheila passed me a note asking me if I wanted to go see a movie with her Friday night and then vandalize the graveyard afterward. I accepted, and we had our first official date. I put on a little pressure that night behind the groundskeeper's shed, but not too much. Personally I feel like if a girl gives it up too easy there's probably something wrong with it, so I was glad when she told me she wasn't ready. I told her I wasn't either; I was being sarcastic but she thought it was really sweet, so I went with it. Claiming to be a virgin may have been untrue but it wasn't exactly a lie, because even though I've had sex with dozens of girls plus hundreds of times with my buddy Dave, I'm a Christian so I consider myself celibate until marriage. The problem with Sheila was that she didn't give it up on the second date, either. I'm all for giving a girl time to think it over, but almost a week passed between our first and second dates, how much more time did she expect me to give her? But I figured she was probably having her period or something and when there's extenuating circumstances like that I don't mind giving a girl a little more time to dry up and vacuum the carpet. I try to be sensitive to the needs of the ladies.
After our third date the following weekend, she told me she still wasn't ready. I made like I was going to kiss her, grabbed her by the ears and tried to shove her head into my lap, but she would have none of it. So I told her I had to get to bed early that night, and I ended up spending the twenty dollars I was going to use to buy us dinner on an okay blow from some homeless black lady by the train tracks. I wasn't going to give up on Sheila, though. I had already told most of the guys in school that I had done her and that she was a total whore, and I didn't want to be a liar.
Two months passed. Two months of writing her poetry I found on the web, two months of burning her custom mix CDs, two months of claiming my mom was dead for the sympathy points and even pretending to cry once. It was hell. And all this girl wanted to do was talk talk talk. Fuck, she kept me awake until midnight practically every night for a month on ICQ until I finally figured out how to set up an eliza chatbot to keep her busy while I dated someone else in the meantime. Finally, one night in the cemetery Sheila finished off a whole bottle of Arbor Mist and let her guard down somewhat. At last after months of waiting I was able to get into the soft, warm place where a woman keeps all of her divine secrets. Her purse. You see, she got really drunk and started throwing up in a nearby open grave, then she leaned too far over the edge and fell in. She called for help but I was only halfway through my joint, so I told her she'd have to wait because I hate having to re-light it. Finally I think she just passed out. I looked next to me and there was her purse sitting right there on the neatly-mowed grass. For as long as I had known her she always kept it at her side. I had kind of wondered what was in there, but I suddenly found myself conflicted as to whether I should look inside or not. I had never looked through a girl's purse before because I totally respect a woman's right to privacy. But I was a little curious now because Sheila had always been very protective of that purse, even taking it into the bathroom with her. The webcam I have above the medicine cabinet never gave me a clear shot of it, which didn't really bother me because it wasn't my intent to pry into her personal space. I was just making the videos to sell them to a site that shows hidden clips of women going to the bathroom.
So I finished my joint and I figured what the hell, it was the middle of the night, Sheila was resting, and God was probably just as pissed at her by now as I was, so there wouldn't be any harm in sneaking a quick peek. The first thing I opened was a little plastic compact filled with tiny mints organized by day. I sucked on a few but they didn't taste very good. She also had a palm pilot, which got me fifteen bucks when I sold it at school the next Monday. There were a few tampons (of course), a wallet with some cash I pocketed to compensate me for all the dates I'd paid for, and on the very bottom there was a small book that looked like a daily planner. What a surprise when I opened it up and realized it was her diary! I sat there reading it with my flashlight for like four hours, and let me tell you, it was some good reading. It turned out that Sheila was a virgin! Suddenly it all made sense. It was kind of ironic that all this time I had been telling the guys at school what a whore she was, she hadn't even had sex once. But she did go into specific details of all her sexual fantasies and her deepest secrets. I learned she had kissed her best friend Lisa on the mouth once, and sometimes masturbated herself with bananas dipped in Vaseline, and even spied on her older brother undressing a few times and commented graphically on his body. Jackpot, I thought.
After I was done with my reading it was about 5:30 in the morning and just starting to get light out. Sheila was still passed out in that open grave laying in her own vomit. She was definitely in no condition to drive home, so I took the keys from her purse and drove myself home in her car. I scanned every page of her diary into my computer as a PDF, and when I saw her again on Monday at school, I handed her a CD I had burned it on and told her if she didn't do everything I said, I would hand out a copy to everyone at school, her parents and especially her brother. She was horrified. Now she was finally willing to give me what I deserved and had worked so hard for those last two months. I just wanted my due, I wasn't there to humiliate her or rob her of her dignity. I told her I was going to fuck her on the floor of the men's locker room before my third period gym class while the rest of the guys watched.
I'm a sensitive guy, so I let her lay down on a towel before I pushed her across the room with my cock.
I broke up with her later that day. I wasn't about to be seen as the boyfriend of a girl who would degrade herself like that. I was so relieved to be out of that bad relationship that I can't even explain it. I was already dating someone else by that time so I was happy I could pay more attention to her and quit sneaking around. More than anything I was just glad I could hold my head high knowing I was not a liar when I told everyone she was a whore; they had seen it for themselves and even took pictures so everyone else would know too. And I kept my word to her about destroying all the copies I made of her journal. I only gave out one copy to Dave so that he could post it on his website.
Yes, girls are mysterious creatures, but this experience taught me that just being patient, persistent and a little creative will pay off in the end with a relationship that is good for both partners.
Drop me an email at firstname.lastname@example.org if you have any questions, ideas or topics that you'd like me to address in my next column.
PREVIOUS COLUMNS BY THIS AUTHOR:
September 22, 2000 - Watching Your Back
November 4, 1999 - Dating Tips
September 19, 1999 - Homosexuality
September 9, 1999 - What Guys Like
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