Don Juan Scott - Segment 1

This will be the first in a sporadically recurring series. Some of the stories are true. Some of them are made up. One phrase to keep in mind: when the legend becomes fact, print the legend.

I will honor that tradition.

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Ahh - Christmas time! The bells are jingling, the egg nog is spiked, the women are loose, the men are mighty!!!!

Party time! It's Christmas time!

Run, Run Rudolphhhhh!!!!

When I was at the pinnacle of every young man's self-unawareness (right around 13 I'd say) I was very much aware of the fact that I liked the ladies, and that they absolutely didn't reciprocate that sentiment.

Anyhow - back to CHRISTMAS TIIIIIMMMMMEEEEEEE! Party time!

My next door neighbors always threw one heckuva Holiday Party. This might have actually been the inaugural bash, come to think of it.

So lets set the stage. A couple other neighbors were there (my parents obviously), a bunch of the neighbor's personal friends and family members of their own, and of course some young kids that belonged to this person or that person in attendance - and their were two girls near my age. They were both one year older than myself, I believe.

So, it's a packed house - and the young kids and the two teen girls were nowhere to be found. They were in the basement playing some games and watching TV or something of the sort. You see, at 13 I wasn't really all that different than I am right now (of course I didn't have a blog to keep me sane, but for the most part that me is the me before you now), so I'm upstairs yuckin' it up with the grown-ups making jokes and being generally quite silly.

After an hour or so, I kind of think to myself - "Should I go see if those cute girls my age are downstairs?" Insert "Captain Obvious" joke here: ______

So I head downstairs.

I swear to everything Holy they were just biding their time playing with the young kids to torment me. They probably got one look at me when I walked in the door and knew I was easy to mess around with - much like people still do!

Don't get me wrong, they were really sweet (and did I mention cute?) but they wasted very little time in ascertaining what kind of a 13 year old I was: the Freddie Prince Jr. kind or the Corey Feldman in The Goonies kind (more simply: dug by the ladies or ignored by the ladies).

Turns out I'm neither. I get attention, but not the Freddie Prince Jr. kind - more like the "make me laugh, Clown!!!" kind.

Note: I honestly cannot remember their names. The girl who did all the talking (and the one that this story is really about) was dark-haired and had a fuller body and the other girl was blonde and very skinny.

So the more verbose one is chatting me up about this and that and out came my admission that I was not only single but never had a "girlfriend" blah blah blah (part of me is like, "Can my voice get a little deeper before you bust my balls about all this?" - no pun intended ;) )

After we established my single-ness she discussed her older boyfriend - this dude was probably 15 or something like that - he was Hugh Hefner as far as I was concerned. Lucky guy.

So after we're done with the whole I'm-a-loser-you-have-an-older-boyfriend routine, she moves onto something I was absolutely not familiar with:

Flirting.

So now I'm getting all bothered with this arousing turn of events. We're sitting closer on the couch, laughing - I'm just sitting there like a psychiatry patient that doesn't have all that much to talk about during that first introductory appointment - and the conversation turns to, but of course, romance.

If I have no experience striking up a simple conversation with a lady at this point, I sure as shit don't have any experience making out or anything with a girl, so I've adopted the whole listen, nod, "umm-hmmm" approach.

This goes on for quite a while - right up until it's finally time for me to walk back to my house to call it a night.

So I've said goodbye to the cute girls and everyone and am out the door (my parents had left quite a bit earlier).

I didn't make it very far before someone was right behind me outside standing in my front lawn.

The cute, verbose, older girl.

If there was a caption cloud over my head it would've read, "HOLY SNIKEES!"

Here's how the brief conversation went (keep in mind my only goal now is to come off as a cool, collected, good guy - I damn sure won't be caught dead being inappropriate to this nice girl):

"So I really liked meeting you, Scott."

"I liked meeting you too, [insert forgotten name]."

"So, I have a question for you..."

I thought, "Oh fudge..." (only I didn't think "fudge")...here's my time to look like an idiot with a question about "romance" or something that I clearly won't know anything about.

Turns out, I have excellent forethought. I accurately predicted my demise.

"Are you a prude?"

(With mock indignation) "NO!"

"Prove it..." she leans in close...

"No!" I turn away.

I had NO IDEA what "prude" meant!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I thought it meant "drug user" or something like that!

Kids - if you're out there - when a girl asks if you're a prude in a flirty manner, KISS THEM!

No wonder the ladies don juan anything to do with me... ;)

Scott.