I know no one wants to hear this, but it is unseasonable warm here. Time-to-break-out-the-shorts warm. I meant to take a pictures of a magnolia blooming or something, but my heart just wasn’t in it, and it’s supposed to be getting a bit cooler again this weekend. So we’ll just pretend it’s still winter.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about high school boyfriends. I blame this on the guy we went skiing with, who spent the whole trip up to the mountains and the whole trip back down again talking about how he thought about nothing but sex in high school and managed to have none at all until he left. He could not find a girl to have sex with, or rather, he could not figure how to go about making this happen.

This was so radically opposed to my experience in high school. I was pretty eager to see what it was all about, but no boy that I was interested in would ever do anything until I met a guy in my physics class who I was pretty sure would. I went out with him for a year and a half. But there were problems with him, too. Among other things, he refused to ride in my car because he claimed it made him sick. So he drove. (I secretly suspected that he didn’t like my car, which was my father’s Volkswagen hatchback. Not fancy.) This sucked, because I actually like to drive. And he himself did have a fancy car — a fancy classic historic sportscar that he and his father had bought together. So, he drove us around in that, and I suppose that was fun for him because he could drive it, but we could never leave it anywhere. So we’d drive up to the reservoir, hang around the parking lot, and then drive home again. We couldn’t go for a hike because someone might come and, I don’t know, scratch the car. So that was kind of a bust.

My thoughts are 1) I paid a pretty high price just to get to have sex and 2) it’s funny about boys. I suppose it was harder for them, since they were supposed to do the asking. But it seems to me that the interesting boys, the boys I actually liked to talk to, were never the boys who would ask you out. Our passenger agreed — he thought that probably the girls he was wanting to go out with were secretly wondering why he didn’t just ask them instead of mooning around thinking about it.

I’ve finished Riddley Walker and moved on to Smiley’s People. Since it’s written in English instead of some strange dialect I am a quarter of the way through it without even realizing. It’s very good.


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