  So the question of the week is, HOW THE FUCK CAN YOU FORGET DATING SOMEONE?! I have been riding the bus home with Jack for eight months now.
I see him at school. Our brothers are roommates in Seattle. I remembering playing together when we were little. I remember going to baseball games with him. I remember we listened to The Beatles together a lot and I thought he looked like George. (His hair is perpetually in need of a haircut. ) He's the goofy little brother type of aquatance.
And that is all I thought of him. There is a small group of freshman boys who are fascinating with teasing me. Seeing them throws me back to Junior High; I feel awkward and annoyed. These are cool kids, though. The kind that go home and listen to (what they feel are) progressive bands and talk philosophically about Resovir Dogs . One boy writes for the paper, in the 'Our Generation' section; movie reviews. They're each tall and gangly, all at that stage of adolescence were you are trying to find where you fit into the social scene. However, teenage boys that they are, they are obsessed with sex. I am repeatedly asked for sexual favors, including acting in some weird porn thing. I can't explain how, reflectively, it was funny the first few times. But now, as far as I am concerned, its just offending and overdone.
Jesus. I've never been the girl who giggles as boys belittle her to a piece of ass, and I refuse to start being that way now. Ok, ok, I got off in a tangent there. The whole "You don't talk to your mother like that, young man" thing is not the point. Yesterday, on the bus, Jack said something I can't get out of my head. "God, Anna! I love you! Come on, we dated for two weeks! Is there any magic left? " It was one of those weird out-of-body moments. It was the same feeling I get when I've swerved to miss a car or forgotten my lines onstage. It was that same flood of coldness all over my body.
And why? Because I seem to be remembering Jack differently now. Did we date? If so, I must have been eleven and he would have been ten. Meaning, Jack would have been pre-Behren. Meaning, yes, he would have been my first romance. Meaning, I am absolutely, without a doubt, retarded . This is not set in stone, mostly because I refuse to let it be that way. How on earth could I forget dating someone?
Especially Jack. And fucking CHRIST , there is just no way in hell that he was my first kiss. Behren was. Right? God, this is killing me. And I realize that most people's first romances, the pre-adolescent ones, fade over the years. But, dammit, I am not that kind of person. I am the girl who's heart soars when she watches When Harry Met Sally . I am the girl who writes letters to her future husband. I am the girl who pictures marriages with Starbucks' employees. I am a hopeless romantic... right?? Affectionately... Anna 
