I close my eyes and see you before me
Think I would die if you were to ignore me
A fool could see just how much I adore you
I'd get down on my knees, I'd do anything for you
I'm the first to admit that my adolescent lovelife was awful. I was already a social cripple and the added threat of romantic rejection- the most devastating kind- paralyzed me. The girls that talked to me dealt with the verbal and emotional equivalents of rolling my body to prevent bed sores. That said, I got play. I was such a mack that I didn't have to say or do anything and the chicks still wanted next to me. Girls would call me and stay on the phone for hours in total silence, the certain kind of truly awkward silence that only teenagers are capable of. I never said more than a few words, as few as possible, but they kept calling. They asked me to walk them home from school. Most telling, they talked about me behind my back, and then someone ran off to tell me about it all, giggling like the schoolgirl she was. And I responded with as few words as possible; believe me when I say that was quite few. The strong and silent type went over in a major way in middle Ohio. I wasn't pregnancy-pact hot, but I was one-of-a-kind and priced out of their purses. My opinion mattered, more than theirs.
For all the interest during high school and that brief year of community college, I never started a campfire from the kindling. There were sparks and smoke, but no flames. Didn't know how to. The up-from-under look; the expectant-without-cause pause; the I-might-be-there meetings at games, parties, school dances, the mall; the stock-and-trade of teenage love dumbfounded me. It took me years but I get it now. If I had put any effort into a relationship, I would have been the pimp of the language arts hallway; freshmen, upperclassmen, foreign exchange students. Even if I couldn't have gotten a nickel in the dimehole, I can think of five girls that definitely should have given me blowjobs back in the day. Yeah, that's one for each finger. Sometimes I think about them during my personal time, when I'm TCB the way only I know how. Where's my head, Liz? Damn right it's in the alley behind that so-called Irish bar after you sang "I Touch Myself" karaoke. That kiss against the back wall would have been so much better if you were on your knees.
Yes, I went to football and volleyball games, coed parties, dances, and what passed for the mall. I was fourteen. And I only went to the volleyball games because the Blonde Chick asked me to, and I could never say no to the BC, which didn't work out great on my end. I don't know what you want from me.
Think I would die if you were to ignore me
A fool could see just how much I adore you
I'd get down on my knees, I'd do anything for you
I'm the first to admit that my adolescent lovelife was awful. I was already a social cripple and the added threat of romantic rejection- the most devastating kind- paralyzed me. The girls that talked to me dealt with the verbal and emotional equivalents of rolling my body to prevent bed sores. That said, I got play. I was such a mack that I didn't have to say or do anything and the chicks still wanted next to me. Girls would call me and stay on the phone for hours in total silence, the certain kind of truly awkward silence that only teenagers are capable of. I never said more than a few words, as few as possible, but they kept calling. They asked me to walk them home from school. Most telling, they talked about me behind my back, and then someone ran off to tell me about it all, giggling like the schoolgirl she was. And I responded with as few words as possible; believe me when I say that was quite few. The strong and silent type went over in a major way in middle Ohio. I wasn't pregnancy-pact hot, but I was one-of-a-kind and priced out of their purses. My opinion mattered, more than theirs.
For all the interest during high school and that brief year of community college, I never started a campfire from the kindling. There were sparks and smoke, but no flames. Didn't know how to. The up-from-under look; the expectant-without-cause pause; the I-might-be-there meetings at games, parties, school dances, the mall; the stock-and-trade of teenage love dumbfounded me. It took me years but I get it now. If I had put any effort into a relationship, I would have been the pimp of the language arts hallway; freshmen, upperclassmen, foreign exchange students. Even if I couldn't have gotten a nickel in the dimehole, I can think of five girls that definitely should have given me blowjobs back in the day. Yeah, that's one for each finger. Sometimes I think about them during my personal time, when I'm TCB the way only I know how. Where's my head, Liz? Damn right it's in the alley behind that so-called Irish bar after you sang "I Touch Myself" karaoke. That kiss against the back wall would have been so much better if you were on your knees.
Yes, I went to football and volleyball games, coed parties, dances, and what passed for the mall. I was fourteen. And I only went to the volleyball games because the Blonde Chick asked me to, and I could never say no to the BC, which didn't work out great on my end. I don't know what you want from me.
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