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We were still at an age where our parents insisted on treating us like children. After awhile, my friend and her boyfriend disappeared, leaving T. What I do remember is sitting on a couch with T., him putting on a Elton John song and telling me, in words I can't recall specifically, that he wanted to be my boyfriend. I just recall being almost to my house, when I told T.
How wonderful it felt to have an "adult" who valued our opinion; thought we were not just cute but interesting.
We talked about music, about high school, his experience then and mine now.
He, in turn, went to find my friend and her boyfriend, who were none too pleased at having to leave so soon after we got there. Just like that, you lose your footing, and you're in over your head. He noticed my sudden distance and pouted, unsettling to see in an adult. It seemed just about every woman I knew had a similar story, a time when wanting attention meant getting the wrong kind entirely.
If you lower the bar for your expectations - she will meet it.
Most of the fun at that age, is holding hands in the hall at school, and being the center of attention for a while. He will either exhibit phoniness, embarrass her, or rise to the occasion.
I personally wouldn't want to encourage the relationship but to give the young boy the benefit of the doubt, would want to know why he's been in serious trouble and put back 2 grades. It's not that bad, even if he isn't the most academically able of boys.
I don't know if others would agree, but I'd want to see what type of email correspondance they are having. I had a ton of fun with mine, I reckon this boy here sounds really sweet.
I was the oracle, remembering each detail from my supporting role. I remember how quiet it was, birds soaring overhead, no other sound. We had gotten in the habit of him driving me home, and my suddenly wanting to make different arrangements seemed to inconvenience everyone. He stopped the car with a jerk, right past the top of my driveway, and I grabbed the door handle and got out. For many years afterward, I took total blame for everything that happened between me and T. It was with this in mind that I began my narrator Sydney's story in . Like me and Sydney, she will most likely yearn for attention at one point or another. But how can I teach her that it is just as OK to need that scrutiny to stop? If all they can do is hang out at your house, they'll soon tire of each other.(seconded by my 28 year old son lol)I would let her know you are concerned about it, but let her make her own decisions. Girls however are more mature at 13 so they may be at the same maturity level.I remember when I was a teen (now the mom of a 14 & 10 yr old) I remember my father telling me I couldn't do this or that, and it was just more of a reason for me to find a way to sneak around and do it.When they weren't doing BMX and skateboard tricks in front of the post office, they were spending what money they had at the nearby arcade, or spinning on stools and shooting straw wrappers in their favorite burger joint, just across the street. "I don't want you hanging around with someone that much older than you." "Mom." I'm sure I rolled my eyes. Once again, she was treating me like a child, someone unable to make her own decisions. It didn't seem like such a big deal, as my best friend was doing nothing sneaking around to be with her boyfriend. Suddenly, I wasn't that scared, invisible girl anymore, watching from the sidelines. I remember it was a gorgeous fall day, crisp and cool, and the first time I'd had Brie cheese and red wine. With real life, however, and memory especially, it is harder to keep things so neat and organized. In the first, I snuck out of the house with a guy friend who lived down the street. My friend came back, we went home and I slid back into my bed. The second incident I remember happened when he was giving me a ride home. There was something especially cool about being friends with them. I was wearing a Bundeswehr tank top I'd gotten at an Army supply store and faded jeans, a thrift shop crucifix around my neck. But as we sat there together in the sunshine, the wine buzzing my head, I suddenly felt … Many memories remain fuzzy, but incidents such as that day in the forest remain in crisp detail. It was late and my parents were asleep as we drove over to the house where T. At some point, my friend left to go somewhere, and for whatever reason I didn't go with him. Maybe he only stepped out to go to the store down the block. This was after the night at his house, though how much later I cannot say. "That's your mom talking." I told him that this wasn't true: it was my choice.