They get STDs, and they get pregnant too young. I see you, the way you throw him glances, shy smiles, the way he looks back, eager. Every kiss, every touch, makes you want more, more, more, and soon nothing is enough, nothing feels good enough, nothing fills you. Your stomach is in knots. How do we get so far into our lives and into these experiences without sharing them—and our feelings—with our friends, our parents, or a caring adult? They are your sister, your daughter, your friend, your niece. They sit with their friends in diners and coffee shops, searching, their thoughts clearly on who is looking at them.
They can believe that they matter. Your mother is one thousand miles away. His friend, though—his friend looks. How could this be? They assumed that they were the only ones, that they alone suffered this peculiarity. How do we get so far into our lives and into these experiences without sharing them—and our feelings—with our friends, our parents, or a caring adult? They are almost every girl you see. They get dumped again and again. Because we feel so alone—because we carry immense shame about our behavior and, more so, our desperation. I see you, your blank expression, the way you acquiesce, the way you let him take off your underwear, do what he wants, the way you turn your head, waiting for it to be over. Tremendous gratitude to April Sirianni and Heather Moore for their impressive work getting the book heard. You watch him, want him to look, but he never does. The boys, though, become men. When these girls grow up, they find that in this way, they are still girls. They remain needy, desperate, anxious for someone to prove their worth. Some came from divorce, like I did. Many times, you will change directions again. For now, I think, If only someone else had seen you, too. He pulls you by the hand. He ducks into a laundry room. Your mother is nowhere. For research help, thank you to Tiffany Kalahui and Helen Delutz. My family has always been supportive—especially Michael and my two beautiful sons who accommodated my disappearance to work. I see you, the way you throw him glances, shy smiles, the way he looks back, eager. And when I wrote my memoir, Loose Girl , about my experiences, I heard from many, many more girls like me. They are not remarkable, really, in any way. For the first time, the boy you still want glances at you and looks away.
Video about young teen guys having sex:
MISHKA (short film about teen pregnancy)
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