Suzanna Danna

To break up the monotony of typing up comments left from attendees that include charming ones like the following, “Speaker seemed very knowledgeable but ‘uhms’ (120) drove me to distraction… and yes, I counted” (complete with 120 little hash marks next to the speaker’s name), I have decided to tell y’all about a very uncomfortable sexual encounter I had when I was young.

FINE, now… I have your attention? You cheeky little whores.

In high school I didn’t really date much. Either I was sandwiched between two large guys (my best friends) that were on the offensive guard of the football team or I was in relationships with dudes for long periods of time. So I really didn’t “date”. There wasn’t a lot of awkward, “Hey, both of y’all are single, why don’t you make out?” [forcefully shoving me into the chest of a guy I knew nothing about] things going on. I went on a lot of dates, but only because I clean up pretty good for a white girl, I knew most of the guys and their parents (fabulous impression/manners, *ahem*), they needed dates to proms, homecomings, football banquets, soccer banquets and the like, I can dance and I’m all about helping a brother out. But I never really had the dating dating experience that most girls got in high school.

I didn’t have my first “I carried a watermelon” moment until well into college.

In high school there was this tall handsome guy who smiled quickly, was pretty crass, but in a COOL way (pe-shaw) and showed signs of being interested. One evening after the Senior High football game, this guy and I walked across the soccer fields to the McDonald’s where the rest of our school was hanging out. I don’t know how we got paired up, I have no idea where everyone else was, I just know that on the way over somehow… seriously, I do not remember the sequence of events to save my life… we ended up on the grass making out like our lives depended on it while he furiously dry humped me until I was bruised.

I remember being astounded at two things. Number one. How did I get onto the ground without falling, is he seriously that smooth? And Number two. At what part does this go from being totally hot into the more gray area of, “How am I going to explain these grass stains?”

And no, that isn’t the uncomfortable part.

Fast forward to a few weeks (months?) and my best girlfriend is dating the dry humper. Apparently he and I had the same idea. “Sure, that was fun, but um… tell no one, really. It’s cool. Whatever.” They were a new couple and I am sure that I mentioned the sneaky make out session on the soccer fields to said best friend BEFORE they started dating. I am hoping I did.

We were at a party in our neighborhood. All the cheerleaders were there, all the jocks were there, some of the stoners… your standard party. (No,YOURs! I said, defensively.) And somehow I literally got thrown into dry humper’s best friend’s lap. Yay. “Hey, both of you guys are single…” [I could feel my internal organs shriveling] “Why don’t you two go for a walk or something?” I looked up into DHB/F’s face, he smiled and helped me out of his lap and to stand. “How about it?” He asked. “Sure.” I mumbled, and even managed to force a wee smile. On the way out the door, I looked at dry humper. He smiled then winked at me. OH MAH GAWD. His best friend must have known about the soccer field make out session. Dirty rat (bastard).

Okay, so, to set the mood, I was already pissed. I had made out with DH and now, DHB/F wants the same treatment or something. I was incensed. My virtue (heh) was at stake! What did these boys think of me? That I was something to be passed around, made out with and dry humped until black and blue*?

*Yeah, try to explain THAT.

But on the other hand, hopefully DHB/F had no idea, he was just a nice guy, taking me for a nice fall stroll in the crisp air, around the block… and… into… the… alley… behind the house of the party. My left eyebrow was basically IN my hairline. I was curious to see where this was going. What, EXACTLY, did this jackass want from me? And how could I turn the situation around?

DHB/F lit a smoke and passed it to me, I took it and we sat down on a retaining wall on the side of the alley. He lit his own and started a friendly conversation. Since he came from a different middle school we had a lot of mutual friends, but didn’t know about each other. He seemed confident and relaxed. Slowly, I relaxed too, until it was just another dude I was talking too. We passed the time for a bit and smoked another cigarette. After the smokes were done, I thought we’d just walk back around to the front of the house and reengage (Make it so, Number One.) in the party.

But um, No.

DHB/F threw a fast one at me, “Susan, may I kiss you?” He asked. He almost said please. And hell, it was just a kiss, I said, “Sure?” He leaned in and kissed me. It was quite pleasant. I was kind of shocked. After the kiss, I stood up and offered DHB/F a hand. He took it and I pulled him to his feet. He said thanks, brushed off his jeans, I did the same… then he said, “Can I kiss you again?” I smiled and said, “Yes.”

He came at me like a spider monkey.

He was all fumbling and frantic. He shoved his hand down the front of my white (suck it Trebec) jeans and forced a finger inside me. I froze. “Doesn’t that feel good?” he breathed on me. “No.” I said, standing rigid with shock and anger. He froze too. “No?” “No, definitely, NO.” He decided to get belligerent with me. “No, really, and what would YOU know about it?” “Remove your finger from my vagina and your hand from my pants, NOW.”

What I said, “Dick.” And then I turned around and walked back around the corner and into the house where the party was. Same plan, “Sure, that was NOT FUN, but um… tell no one, really. It’s cool. Whatever.”

What I wished I had said, “Listen to me you little shit, ‘what do I know about it?’ WHAT DO I KNOW ABOUT IT? it happens to be MY VAGINA. And I am pretty sure that I would know if something felt good or not, so take your hands off and out of me before I charge you with assault or worse, sick my friends on you… OR MY FATHER, you’d wish you’d never been born.”

He never touched me or talked to me again. I didn’t have him killed, it was just an embarrassing encounter that in today’s society knowing now what I didn’t know then, would have been a hell of a lot more serious. Thank God I don’t have children.

I talked to Dre’s wife the other afternoon, she surprised me by saying, “I got you a present, it will take 5-7 days to get here, and your mother will approve!” I guessed, “My mother would approve? What is it? A bible? A chastity belt? A burke?” She agreed, “Yes, it is a burke.”

If I had teenage daughters I would totally make them wear burkes and they wouldn’t be able to go to parties or OUTSIDE until they were thirty.