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My Awakening

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  Now we fast forward to the first day of ninth grade where the timing of the style trend for short skirts and my sexual awakening coincide. I enter my classroom and slide into my desk whereupon my gaze falls upon the second woman to gain my infatuation. Miss Bloomquist, my teacher, probably about twenty-five and a natural blonde has an obvious affinity for very short skirts. She has the most fantastic legs I had ever seen but then come to think of it before now I had never noticed legs. In fact this turns out to be another "first time" memory. It is the first time (of many in the future) where a short skirt and great legs can hold the focus of my mental fantasies for the entire duration of a whole day in the classroom and then resume at night. To this day, when the image of her skirt hiked up from leaning back against her desk with just her butt cheeks hooked on the desktop........... Oh, excuse me, it just happened again! Anyway, I'm sure Miss Bloomquist's class of fifteen year-old boys had the highest testoterone levels of any class in Minnesota. Now, thanks to my Bloomquist inspired awakening, I found girls very exciting to look at what with legs and butts everywhere I look. And this being still pre-Politically Correct era it was okay to ogle. There was no three second gawking rule. The only rule was look until they looked back. Even then it was okay as long as they didn't give you the stink eye. The point is, now I had a definite sexual interest but still could not express romantic interests in any way. I couldn't even ask girls to whom I was attracted out on a date. But wait, it gets worse.   
Now in tenth grade, in the late fall, there was a Friday night school dance called Sadie Hawkins Dance and attendees would dress like hillbillies. Back in that day, socially, it was strictly forbidden for a girl to ask a boy out so they created this special occasion where it was the girls' turn to ask the boys out. I hadn't prepared for anyone to ask me but then Sandy, an attractive girl that I liked, asked me to the dance. I didn't know what to say. I couldn't turn and run because it was in class and she had the desk next to mine. I really liked her and yet still couldn't accept her invitation. I said, "Just a second" and then I pretended to dig through my papers for something while I did some quick thinking. I hit on an idea, pulled my head up from the papers and I told her that my father had a hunting trip planned for that weekend. Although I wanted to go with her, I couldn't because we were leaving right after school on Friday.  I patted myself on the back for avoiding the commitment and yet keeping my options open for future dating with her. A couple of other girls asked me to the Sadie Hawkins Dance that year but I just simply repeated my lie to each one of them. I had also lied to myself because by the end of the sophomore year it turned out there was never going to be a time that I would exercise my romantic option because I always chickened out. For my junior year I had a plan. I was determined to hide from any female that might ask me to the Sadie Hawkins Dance. I had figured out the likely suspects to avoid so in the weeks since school had started I plotted their normal travel routes. For the two weeks prior to Sadie Hawkins Day I was determined to never go anywhere they might be. Luckily, I didn't have any classes with any of them this time. I spent lunchtime hiding in the stairwells. I figured if a girl that wasn't a likely suspect would ask me I would just used my 'hunting' excuse. After all, they hadn't heard it before. Then that girl would be added to the next year's list of likely suspects to avoid. As you have probably guessed each year's Sadie Hawkins Dance was as traumatic as Valentine's Day or May Day was to the pre-teen me. But it wasn't just that dance. Fear of romantic involvement had become my way of life. I went through all of high school without dating one girl. That may or may not be unusual but I have never heard anyone admit it before. And no, I was not gay. There were many girls I was attracted to, some of which were even my "type", shoulder length dark brown hair, a thin face with slight V-shaped chin line, slender body about five foot five. There was some strange power that was stronger than my sexual drive that prevented me from approaching girls. What power could be possibly stronger then the sex drive of a late teen boy?

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