Carys Weldon Blog
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
DEFINE ’69 FOR ME
So, one day in high school, I sat at my desk in English—before English, actually—and writing poetry, which I have always loved to do.
There are a lot of terms ya hear and don’t know, quite, what it means, but ya get the jist that it’s a little dirty. Right?
I had this cute guy named Ted sitting beside me—whose attention I craved. Basketball player. I was into those. Except, I never let them get into me, if ya know what I mean. Hint. Hint. Wink. Wink.
So, Ted had a habit of reading my papers. I think he sort’ve liked me, but I could be wrong. Maybe he was stupid and looking for answers. I could have given him a few, like, “Duh. Ask me out!”
Anyhow, I got this brilliant rhyme in my head and penned it. The words of the immortal line that runs frequently through my head is: And 69 is mighty fine. It was a poem about love, but I didn’t know what that meant.
So, he spots it and turns fully to me, asking warily, “You’re into that?”
“Yeah, why not?” Nonchalant-like. (haha, jokes on me)
Here’s the thing. I was a smart girl. Maybe the smartest in the whole school. So, and that came across pretty well most of the time. So, on things like this? When I knew I was bluffing, I just had to push all the way through. (pun intended, considering the whole LIKE A VIRGIN thing I had going on)
Anyhow, Ted tells Larry—and then there was a wildfire—“Did you know Jennifer likes ’69?”
Larry, God love him, had a crush on me the size of Texas. I think he just about wet his pants right there. And I kept on keeping on with my stupidity. “Oh, yeah. Don’t do it much, though. Tryin’ to cut down. You know how addictions go.”
So, thank heaven a bud of mine, Angie, snagged me a couple hours later, put her arm around my shoulders and whispered in my ear. “You and me gotta talk.”
“About what?” I knew I was in trouble.
She says, “I gotta define ’69 for ya.”
“Okay.” Thank the Lord someone was gonna, since I could hear whispers and had sly looks comin’ at me from all angles. Of course, I smiled at them and shrugged it all off. And I enjoyed the guys hitting their shoulders into the locker by mine, asking, “How you doin’ today?”
What up with the popularity and all that? Whatever had caused it, it was all good—I thought. Until after school, that is, when Angie got me alone and said, “Look. If you want to tell every guy at school that you’re into oral sex, that’s fine by me. But you and I know—”
I stopped her right there. “Wait. I’m not into—”
“Double oral sex.”
So, okay…no. Putting my mouth where? Letting a guy put his…where? Yeah, there was a holy shit moment.
One of those Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. moments. Except, back then, butter didn’t melt in my mouth. But still, you get the picture. How to face the guys at school?
And that will be in tomorrow’s post. Yeah. Can’t wait to read that, can ya? Why is someone else’s humiliation so funny to us? I dunno either, but come. Laugh with me. I just roll my eyes over it nowadays and think, I’m a survivor. I got past that. I can get through anything.
Take a leaf out of my book. You made it this far. You can do dis ting called life…one day at a time.
Posted by CarysWeldonblog ::
7:49 AM ::
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I cannot believe you got into high school not knowing what 69 was.
That did not come out right---what I was trying to say is it boggles my mind.
I didn't know about the significance of 69 either because no one in my family or the crowd I hang out with uses it. The chats with erotic romance authors and readers clued me in though. LOL
I had no explaination done with me to explain 69 but too, nothing about sex from my mom, nor my sisters. I knew few basics from a health class and sweet books but I learned some info when I went to college! where friends could communicate with me and I picked up more and more that way, so it was very late for me to learn this info.
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