I have always had a soft spot for high-school girls.
Actually, I need to clarify that statement.
I have always had a soft spot for the innocence that high-school girls used to represent. Today's teenage females can seldom be called 'innocent'. Not with alcohol, pot, casual sex, too much make-up, and trollop clothing.
They are still innocent, but it just doesn't seem that way.
Yes, call me an old fart.
Back in MY day, girls still dressed to be presentable, hardly engaged in any shenanigans (many intended to remain virgins till the day they went away to college), and when they smoked or drank, they were very discrete and did so with that delightful sense of surreptitious depravity - the pleasure of getting away with something of which their parents would disapprove.
The trick was pretending non-lung-cancerous sobriety when they came home at nine, hi mom, hi dad, and walking up the stairs to their room in complete control.
If early of an evening you saw a little miss down a pot of coffee and furiously chewing gum, you knew what was going to happen. She was going home. Nine o'clock.
Quite the well-brought up young lady. How sweet.
I suspect that the parents were not fooled, but they appreciated the effort.
Nothing looks so delicious as a young girl with cheeks flushed from too much hot coffee consumed too fast. That rosy hopped to the gills on caffeine blush, and the over-stimulated sparkle to the eyes - can there be anything quite so lovely?
The enchanting after-image of the nine o'clock subterfugitive made the rest of the evening seem anti-climactic.
And you looked forward to catching another glimpse of her, perhaps at a more approachable age, having progressed from mere bud to full bloom.
I guess the equivalent for the younger generation is seeing the nipple ring that accidentally ripped the buttons off her tarty little blouse while she was shaking her booty to pimp-rap ........ but it just isn't the same.
LISTEN UP, BITCHES!
Trash talk, telling your friends that you would SO blow the class delinquent, and passing packs of condoms back and forth on the bus seriously detracts from your image.
[Oh, and that cell-phone video of you having drunken truth-or-dare sex in the parking lot really does NOT need to be shown to your classmates. It will be on the internet soon enough, where they can enjoy it as often as they want and forward it to other friends with rude comments.]
There is a great difference between the pretense of propriety and the blatant exhibitionist vulgarity of expressing a standard-format uniquely hip creative individuality.
Could you at least TRY to act like a lady?
You know, normal shoes, a clean opaque shirt that covers your abdomen, pants that fit, and, other than a discrete application of lipstick, no make-up or nail polish.
Especially no blue or black nail polish.
Also, speak properly, and avoid foul language.
It might please your parents - not that that means much to you - but all of us dirty old men certainly will appreciate it.
If you stop looking like a five-dollar hooker, we will likely invite you out to dinner.
Our treat. Nice restaurant.
We'll even make sure you get home safely by nine.
Nothing made me feel like a bigger old fart than substituting at a local Jewish day school fresh out of college. I was mostly assigned to the 8th graders (who were only a few years older than me, at the time) and spent most of my willpower fighting the overwhelming urge to tell almost every female student to put on some damn clothes. "It's San Francisco! It's cold out! What's wrong with you?"
Rule of thumb: When a laid-back, son-of-pseudo-hippies, Reform-ish SF heretic like myself starts feeling the need to shield his eyes like a poor Hasidishe bochur, you're dressing way too slutty.
If they're not wearing clothes, perhaps it's because they have enough insulation.
It is better to hide, and thus suggest, one's fine qualities, than flaunt, and thus bore.
Besides, I am not at all sure that sweaty cleavage is such a fine quality. Do they hide things in there?
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