Wednesday, December 01, 2010

Blowing hot and cold

She was about 15 and you were perhaps a year or two older. She bunked her Saturday classes to meet with you without the knowledge of anyone at your respective homes. The pretext was to go see a movie. None of your common friends were invited along. She should have seen it coming. Movie was the furthest thing from your mind. By the end, it was far from hers as well.

She changed from her school uniform into a somewhat daring summer frock at the restroom of the subway station. She also applied some slight makeup and put on chunky jewelry. This was her first "date" after all. Something that was strictly forbidden and hence as heady as it was sweet! Her heart was in her mouth with excitement. You coaxed her along to the famously infamous grounds of Victoria Memorial to spend a bit of the morning before the movie. There you babbled an hour about how much you loved her from the day you set eyes on her! She enjoyed the attention for a while. Then started getting bored. And then her conscience started policing her smug smiles of self gratification. Of course, there were also the prickling of disappointment. Really? Was this what it was all about?

Anyways, I remember this dark dingy restaurant you took her to, for lunch. Of course no one was lamenting that you had missed the movie show times. By then, your intent was clear to her. She wondered how much she would allow, never mind should. She knew she should've walked out a long time ago. Guilt roared in her ears, as did a desperate urge to be wanton. She wanted you to make the move, so that she could experience the thrill of a lifetime. You tried a kiss.. a wet, unexciting, somewhat disgusting affair. Then you crossed a line by fondling her breasts. It tripped a hardwired warning bell in her head. She finally paid attention to her screaming conscience. She acted outraged; actually maybe she was in fact outraged that she'd caught herself in this unimaginably uninspiring, gross situation. You must have been surprised at what suddenly hit. You apologized profusely for I don't know what. You should have slapped her. She deserved no less.

Were you a bad boy? Was she a bad girl? Were you both fit to rot in hell perhaps? I am not here to judge. She spent days after feeling dirty and soiled and irritated, and knew she must pretend to be shocked and hurt and outraged - that was her best guise. You spent days after trying to get back in her good books! You called and called and claimed that you'd just been emboldened by her love, that you were so sorry for what happened. But she'd had enough. She clung to her wronged woman story and finally thankfully got rid of you. You, the annoying pest of a boyfriend.

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