The Boy and Girl of Our Past | Teen Ink

The Boy and Girl of Our Past

April 25, 2008
By Anonymous

Why do girls like boys? What do we see in them? I really don’t know. It’s something unexplainable. They’re gross. Dirty. They act like wild horses for goodness sake! And on the playground, there always has to be that one girl who just has to catch some devil’s eye. So she’ll round up a group of cats and say, ‘Ohhh! See? Do you see him? He’s right-right there!’ And all of the brainwashed little girls will blush and nod theirs heads. The leader of the clan will cup her hands into a small, clean-smelling portal of death and whisper, softly, delicately, not to sound like she purposely wants anyone to hear, although everyone does, ‘That’s Jimmy!’ The posse of miniature dolls will giggle and nudge one another, listening to the rest of the plan and then running over to the mud-splattered boy and informing him, ‘Genevieve likes you!’ The kid will shrug and remain playing dodge ball in eyes’ view of who would bother seeing, which would be ‘anybody who’s anybody’, as followers of the almighty Genevieve would claim proudly at any given moment. But really, who would enjoy their kindergarten recess playing ‘let’s spill secrets by accident’ when everyone could all be playing foursquare with on the pavement? Everybody. Or as I repeat, ‘anybody who’s anybody’. And being a nobody has its definite ups, I mean it’s not like you can do whatever you want with your friends. You have to compromise with them. I, I would much rather confer with myself on doing what I would like to do on any given basis. It’s much less aggravating than dealing with society.

Girls. Do you know what describes girls and even starts with the letter G? Gross! Gossipy, grotesque, gory, and gleeful; basically everything a kindergarten boy would find utterly repulsive. And besides this, they always have this group thing going, you know? It’s like if I spun myself around like twenty-two times and stuck out my right index finger at some girls, I could just name their group. It’s all in the magic finger. But no matter what group they’re in, it’s like they all have some degree of enjoyment for creepin’-out every kid during recess whether the guys and I are swinging around at the swing sets, or sliding down bars at the pipe dreams. They form a gang, or whatever, every day, out of the blue, and will like prance up to us and attack with harsh verbal punishment! ‘Tammy adores you!’ and ‘Oh, Cindy likes you, but not like like like, you know? And if she likes you, and you like her, then wouldn’t that be like, great, you know?’
Harsh verbal punishment.
So, I say whatever to girls and focus on my home recess guys. Some day, we are gonna make a rock band called Recess, or playground swingers! Either way, these days on the playground are simple and laid back. Watching clouds. Swinging around, hanging around. No girls, nada.
And that’s just the way we like it.

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