rm | sex & the teenage girl

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http://www.nytimes.com/2008/01/13/opinion/13flanagan.html

Biology is destiny, and the brutally unfair outcome that adolescent sexuality can produce will never change. Twenty years ago, I taught high school in a town near New Orleans. There was a girls’ bathroom next to my classroom, which was more convenient for me than the faculty one on the other side of campus. In the last stall, carved deeply into the metal box reserved for used sanitary napkins, was the single word “Please.”

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

heron61.livejournal.com

Freely offering one of the several methods of long-term reversible contraception too all teenage girls, w/o any form of parental consent or notification would be a major step forward. Of course, in the US at least, adequate sex education that actually mentions contraception would also be vastly useful.

From:

ithinkitisayit.livejournal.com

And if they're not willing to do that part, then they should at least be willing to push masturbation as an acceptable solution.

If I recall from my Sociology 101 class, a General Practitioner of the US recommended pushing masturbation and was fired for doing so. The topic is considered that obscene still today.

I don't get why.

I dated a guy in the 8th grade. His name was Kyle. Again, this was the 8th grade. I was a shy, timid little mouse, eager to please (I know it's hard to imagine it now, but that's how I was, at the very least, that's how I was towards him). We both went to a private school.

I remember that he was always pushing me to do things that I didn't feel comfortable doing. And because my mother was retarded (well, she had Borderline Personality Disorder. Not the same thing as severe stupidity, but close) and negligent, she never practiced the 80 bajillion scenes of saying no to things. Even if she had, I never would've been comfortable enough participating. My body betrayed me and morphed into this weird piece of crap that required me to start showering every day and bled once a month just to punish me (yes, I knew all about periods, but it's a punishment all the same. I can't wait for menopause. I want my pretty underwear back, dammit!). I wasn't very good at showering at that age (the lack of self confidence had something to do with it). In fact, I normally only showered once a week (though I would wash my hair more than once a week, if I remembered to), not because we didn't have enough money to pay for water (we live near enough to Lake Ontario and Lake Eerie), but simply because I dreaded getting naked. I dreaded seeing my naked body. I dreaded being walked in on in the shower (which has always been an irrational fear, since there's a lock on the door). I dreaded someone realizing that I didn't have a "normal" body anymore. I still have some of that dread these days, even though I know that my body is, sadly, normal (as far as overweight Americans go).

Anyways, that's just the background and not the story. Kyle kept mentioning that he wanted to French kiss me and mentioned that he wanted to have sex with me. It didn't occur to me then that he was a pervy little pedo (which, what else could he be, since he was 14?! I was 14 as well, for those who were wondering). He wanted us to have sex during the lunch hour, and even though I was all "Uh, No. :|" on the inside, I said yes, because I was all logic girl. There was no way we'd be able to have sex at school; the grown ups were always around (Thank God! I think that saved me from getting raped). And I didn't invite him over to my house, and despite him dropping hints that I should come over to his house, I never did.
He claimed that his father taught him to stop if a girl said no (seemed adamant about that; looking back, I think he protested too much).

One day, as we're coming back from "community time" (instead of morning announcements, the whole school, all 125 or so of us, would sit in a room and the principal would lecture us about how we're a family and we need to stop stealing from the games in the cafeteria, or how we need to focus on our studies more, etc.). As we're coming back from "community time," we're the first ones that arrive at the top of the stairs (I'm anal enough to tell you it was a flight and a half of stairs, it really doesn't matter though). He grabbed me, pulled me on his lap and felt me up. The teacher came up soon, and I honestly can't remember the rest, but I'm sure I yanked myself off his lap.

From:

ithinkitisayit.livejournal.com

What that has to do with masturbation? His family is Catholic. If the Catholics weren't fucking morons and were all "Go spank your monkey, and keep your hands off the girls!" instead of telling kids they'll go to Hell for masturbating (and not mention anything about going to Hell for molesting other children or raping other children), he might have had a more convenient outlet to let out his frustrations on, instead of me.

Logistically, I realize that I'm being insanely naive with that belief, that he was a 14 year old boy, and 14 year old boys will molest any and every girl they can get their hands on just cause they're horny; but hey. That belief helps get me through the night sometimes. And keeps me from getting creeped out if I ever see him again.

We did go to different high schools, but when I changed high schools, I ran into him once. He wanted my AIM, and I was all "no." Not because he groped at me, but because he failed at spelling in standardized non-basterdized (IE: not cat macros) English. I didn't even remember (or think on, really) this incident until within the past year when I was going through my diaries from when I was 13 and 14.