How To Not Get Laid In High School

Write what you know.

Get your black belt in your first year of high school

Today is a fine day to not get laid in high school, especially if you’re a lady. I have a tasty morsel wrapped in a bitter memory of hard-won advice from my own lay-less high school days. This particular detail of my life requires a bit of planning in advance or, at the very least, commitment to a long term goal.

There are a number of different ways you can be physically stronger and more muscular than your male peers. Weight-lifting might seem the most obvious way, but it’s hard on your back and requires a lot of space. Playing American football is another, but for most women that simply isn’t an option. Most women, that is, but not this one. Saw that beauty on “eTalk” while getting a pedicure. It was such a feminine thing to do, I nearly started menstruating all over the place. I know you’re hoping I’ll elaborate, so here it goes: all the men in that division in that sport maintain a similar appearance—dare I even say having a large build might be mandatory in order to participate in this sport?–but for some reason this young woman gets this special, near-condescending pat on the back. She is only presented as this sub-female athlete. Anyways, back to that thing I was talk-writing about earlier. My particular plan of attack—or perhaps my cunning father’s plan of attack working through me—was karate. Yes, none other than the sacred art of the empty fist. In addition to being remarkable discipline, it also taught me that people with too much to prove love physical activity. I remember one particularly bald, particularly farty-smelling individual who liked to punch block and kick quite hard even when I was nought but a young fawn. That was almost 10 years ago, so by now I imagine the top of his head has begun to erode, showing the empty brain underneath and he has upgraded that fart smell to a full-blown shit waft.

Yes, being a black belt at the tender age of fourteen. More than just a way to make strangers hilariously say “Guess I better not mess around with you! Hyuk hyuk HYUK!.” Also the creamiest of boy repellent creams. Didn’t like that analogy? Stop fucking reading then. Yes, those were indeed the days—I was a shy and socially awkward teenager trapped in an athletic 12 year old’s body.

Not that I regret that experience at all. ACTUALLY, it was kind of awesome being one of the fittest people I knew at that age, when everyone around you is super self conscious, even more so because that was the beginning of the “obesity epidemic.” Not that I thought of myself as in shape at the time. As a matter of fact, one of my favourite ways to torment myself was to gobble down a pound or two of candy (flirt with diabetes—not boys) and then whine in front of my mom’s mere so that she would reassure me multiple times that I wasn’t fat. Thanks mom!

But I owe them—my parents, I mean—big time for making me stick with it. Even when sensai got the call of the feudal and went completely samurai on everyone. What do I mean exactly? Keep up the good work. Curious minds don’t get laid.

Ultimately, being in “good” shape (because it’s never good unless it’s Cosmopolitan good) means little if you have no self-esteem when you begin. It’s like throwing a log on an unlit fire. So here I was, fit as a fiddle but not able to make eye contact with myself in the mirror, hating myself and gorwing increasingly fearful of boys. What’s wrong, too personal for you? Be sure to leave this open on your computer when you’re done with it. Then any partners interested in copulation will be deterred because they will think you’re in to expressing your feelings and shit.

I do sometimes miss being in that kind of shape even though I wasn’t enjoying it st the time. Perhaps it’s because my metabolism is slowing down, or because I have to cook food for my own lazy ass now instead of reaping the spoils of my mom’s good cooking. You know what, last sentence? And don’t appreciate the way you refer to my ass as lazy. It may be slightly larger than normal, yes, but I don’t agree with your presumption that largesse somehow correlates to laziness. So fuck you, four sentences ago.

To do:

  • Make a comic. Someday
  • Go on that Band camp website
  • Book G Test
  • Paint room in orange zebra stripes to stimulate creativity and recirculate chi
  • Stephen Frye
  • What I’m Listening to Right Now:
  • The gentle of an electric furnace.
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