Rebellious Phase (Or Why I Blame Boyfriend For Ruining My life)
Teenagers are supposed to be rebellious, or at least that is what television shows about teenagers have told me. We are all supposed to indulge in copious amounts of drugs, sex, and alcohol, and, because as a girl I am supposed to be nothing more than a sex object, I am supposed to dress very provocatively and get tattoos and piercings.
Except I haven’t done any of this. I am almost a whole month into my nineteenth year of being and I still win, or lose depending on how you look at it, ten fingers every single time, usually by a margin of at least five fingers. I only have one year of teen rebellion left in me, and I will probably not get the boozy, orgy-filled, trippy college experience everyone else at my university will get to experience. And it is all Boyfriend’s fault.
You see, I couldn’t rebel during high school. I didn’t have a good home life, and college was a way out for me. Don’t get me wrong I know I am luckier than most and I am very grateful for that, but I still needed to escape. This meant that I was too busy with AP classes, sports, extra-curricular activities, and work to do anything else. I was saving all that for college. I had all these spectacular plans, and they all came crashing down.
My family hasn’t had a drinker in it for three generations, and now I know why. We can NOT handle our alcohol. My tolerance is so pathetically low that one night, when I took my first and last (probably last ever) shot of vodka, I turned bright red all the way down to my belly button, threw up, had to be propped up by two friends as we were walking to a party, and passed out, all within two hours of taking the shot, which the only alcohol I touched all night. Luckily, my wonderful friends made sure I was ok.
I have also discovered that I have no desire to experiment with drugs, despite how accessible and prevalent it is. I told you I am very strange.
Which left indiscriminate sex as my final and only channel of successful rebellion. Then boyfriend came along. He made me love him with his cuteness and wonderfulness and tricked me into my first relationship, simultaneously making me happier than I have ever been and ruining any ability I had to be promiscuous. Now I am trapped in my wonderfully happy monogamous relationship with no way out.
Boyfriend just refuses to make mistakes, and treats me well just to spite me. I just know it. So all those people who are missing out on wild super-repressed-as-a-child sex should blame Boyfriend and his refusal to be an ass.