Microstory 280: Perspective Fifty-Five

This is an experimental Perspectives microstory. The introduction can be found in Microstory 225. More to follow.

This guy is probably two years older than me. If he had manned up and offered to take me to his room, I probably would have said yes. I’m no s**t, but this would be a nice place to get that whole virginity thing out of the way with no strings attached. I feel like I’m getting old. When my mother was young, a man who wanted to court her would ride up to her estate in a carriage and they would take a walk through the vineyard, supervised by her father. This would happen when she was thirty years old, and they would not so much as be in a room together alone until they were married. I have the history right on all that, more or less. But nowadays, kids are doing things with each other at thirteen, twelve, eleven years old. I can’t keep up! No one is going to want to be with an eighteen year old virgin. I think they made a movie about that, and everyone made fun of him for it. I’m not sure what’s wrong with me. I just got these new boobies. They’re not huge, but they look good in this yellow shirt. Maybe I should have worn a black bra underneath to get his attention. This was my one opportunity to get it over with. They put a giant circus tent over our house and are pumping gas into it. My parents are treating it like a vacation, so they’re not paying attention to me. I can do whatever I wanted, so if I can just figure out what that is, I’ll be set. Because sex is apparently off the table at this point. I shouldn’t have gotten off the elevator on the right floor. I should have followed him as far as I could. Or not. What does it matter? It’s over, and I’m being stupid. Sex isn’t all there is, and I have more important things to think about, like the fact that none of my friends has texted me in, like, an hour.