Read Secret Girls' Stuff Online
Authors: Margaret Clark
Secret Girls' Stuff (7 page)
I know that girls today go out on blind dates because I get emails and letters telling me about it. Here’s one from Georgie, age fourteen. She’d written to me before.
>From: Georgie
>To: Margaret
>Date:
hi marget,
it’s georgie again. how’s your new book coming along? well, i went out on my first blind date and, like, it was soooo uncool and embarrassing i just wish i could’ve crawled into a cave. my so called friend set it up because it was her cousin and we were going
to the movies. she wasn’t allowed out with her boyfriend michael on her own and like, she had to take this cousin robbie too. she showed me a photo and robbie looked gorgeous so i got all dressed up in new jeans and a top, spent all my pocket money and guess what? it turned out robbie was in Grade Six! i felt like i had a toy boy. i’ll never speak to shona again and i’ll never go out on a blind date again i swear.
I wrote back
>From: Margaret
>To: Georgie
>Date:
Dear Georgie,
I know you feel stupid about being in Year Eight and going out with a boy in Grade Six, but it could have been worse. What if you’d been going to a party or a school prom and you’d had to dance with your chin on his head? Cheer up. Tell Shona no more blind dates with boys younger than you and look on it as a world experience. Blind dates are like lucky dips. Sometimes you get a great prize and sometimes it’s a dud. That’s the luck of
the draw. Bye from Margaret (um, it’s spelt like this, not Marget.)
This boy-n-girl thing is always fraught with drama when you’re starting off. Most girls go through a number of relationships with boys, but some don’t.
One of my good friends, Gwen met Alan when they were both sixteen, got married at twenty-one and they are still together after about thirty-five years and they’ve never been out with other people on romantic dates. (Well, I don’t
think
so.)
Sometimes love at first sight lasts; sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes it doesn’t get much of a chance, as this extract from an email from Sasha, age fifteen, indicates:
>From: Sasha
>To: Margaret
>Date:
So, I’m on this holiday in America and it’s, like, freeeeeezzzzing there. We were just back from Disneyland and staying in this hotel. I went for a swim in the heated pool (it was snowing outside) And I met the BEST THE
BEST THE BEST GUY. I mean, he was cuter than the cute guy from White Squall, cuter than the guy whose hair snaps off, but he’s not hot anyway, cuter than Brad Pitt and everyone else who is supposedly cute, they are ugly compared to this guy. YIIPPPPEEEE. A total babe.
AGGGHHHHHHHH. I’ll give you his details. Okay, he’s my height and a bit taller (yay) and he’s 16 (my height and 16, wow), has gorgeous sexy green eyes, blond hair that he spikes up (drool!!), a FANTASTIC smile, perfect teeth (I almost fainted every time he smiled at me), hot AS body, he’s so funny and smart and nice and totally GORGEOUS!!!!! The only downside is his name, not that it’s bad, just different. I had to get him to say it four times, very embarrassing. But it’s Esra, it sounds like a girl’s name. And worse, when I told my parents later and they were trying to figure out the spelling, my sister pointed out that it spelt arse backwards. Yes, ARSE. Bloody typical Sigh. My family had a great time with THAT. grrrrrrr. But his name isn’t that big a deal.
It’s pretty cool. Anyway, I was swimming in the pool and this god of a guy surfaces next to me, and I’m like, whoa, is he HOT. So I went and hopped in the spa and watched him for a
while, playing with his brother.
Then my sister wanted me to get back in the pool and we had the usual splashing fight. Then she started spitting in my face and pulling my hair, and I was like, ‘That’s ENOUGH’ and I was just standing there when Esra swam up with his brother clinging onto him and pulling his hair and goes, ‘Don’t you just hate younger sisters and brothers’, and I’m like, Omigod, he SPOKE to ME and I go, ‘Yup.’ Then we sorta swam round together for a while and talked about life and about where we live, what we like to do … and I found out he lives in California and liked snowboarding and surfing and plays basketball and soccer. And we talked about movies and music we like, and we liked THE SAME STUFF. We were meant for each other. Then we hopped in the spa (both our siblings were in the pool) and we were just holding hands and talking and he kept smiling at me and I’m like YIPPPEEEE and then DISASTER, he tells me he’s leaving the next day (God really does not like me) but he said he’d come swimming in the morning (but my parents had booked a tour to Universal Studios leaving at 6.30am and hadn’t told me), so we were just in the spa, so close, I was practically sitting on him, and
Dad kept coming out and telling me to come up to the room, and I’m gritting my teeth and like, ‘Daaad! I neeeed some more time!’, hinting and nodding my head at Esra, then his parents came out and told him he had to be in his room in fifteen minutes. So we went back to the lifts together and I wanted so much to tell him how much I liked him but his brother was in the lift with us giving me the greasies … and Esra was on level 3 and I was on 5 so he got out at his level and was trying to ask me what level I was … and the DOORS SHUT!!!! And they wouldn’t friggin open, and I’m like NOOOOOOO!!!!! And I didn’t ever see him again. Sigh. We didn’t even say goodbye properly. And get this, I didn’t even get his address or email or ANYTHING. I’m getting depressed thinking about it. AGGGHHHHHHH.
Poor Sasha. But then if this love is meant to be, it will happen. Fate has a way of making things work out. But personally I think it’s emotionally healthier to date a number of boys because then you can get an idea of what you want in a partner. And it’s okay to really be mad on a boy then go off him when you find out what he’s
really
like. That’s
the purpose of dating. As my granny always said, ‘Try before you buy.’
Dear Diary
,
I’ve been going with Anton Bowler since Tuesday. I’m taller than him. Well, practically every girl is taller than him. I have to wear flat shoes and walk round with my knees bent when I’m with him otherwise I can see his dandruff. He’s rich, that’s why I’m going with him. Already he’s bought me an orchid in a plastic box and some Black Magic chocolates
.
I was a mean cow wasn’t I? Back then an orchid in a plastic box was kind of like a dozen long-stemmed red roses today.
Often we valued our boyfriends by what they gave us. You might think this was awful. Or maybe you still do it. You see, most women seem to equate a boy’s love and admiration with what they spend on her. It probably goes back to caveman days when the guy lugged in a dinosaur
and said, ‘Here, darling, I brought you a present.’
There’s this sort of thinking that if the boy really likes/loves you he’ll buy you nice things to show this. Then of course you have to show your girlfriends. The more expensive the present, the better the status. That’s how it works.
Most boys don’t know this. They know that girls like flowers and chocolates. They don’t know why. They can’t understand why girls get upset when boys forget birthdays, the second ‘anniversary’ of the first date last month, or when they buy crappy stuff and they think it’s lovely.
When I was going with my husband-to-be I really wanted an orchid to wear on my dress. They were expensive. But it was a sort of trophy.
You had to have an orchid. And he couldn’t understand why I bawled for an hour and wouldn’t talk to him and was so upset when he bought me a whopping great bunch of gladiolis because he ‘got more flowers for the money’. You see?
Boys seem more sophisticated now. Most of them
do
seem to turn up with the red roses and chocolates. Sometimes they do it because they like you. Sometimes they are “trying to get in your
knickers” (as my granny always said).
For whatever reason it’s nice to get gifts from boys.
But back to Anton Bowler and the dilemma of rich guy, square creep. What do I do?
Dear Diary
,
I’ve just learned that you can’t be everyone’s best friend. Flora McDonald’s told me that she’s changed her mind and I’m NOT coming to her party if I bring Anton Bowler because he’s too short and he’ll spoil the photos. What a hag! So. Do I dump him so I can go to the party or what? Ally says no, and she won’t go to Flora’s dumb party either. But the whole school will be there, well, practically
.
Anton’s promised to take me to Brian Henderson’s
Bandstand
on TV live because he says his uncle’s the producer or something. Personally, I think Flora’s cut about me going with Anton because he’s rich. I think I’ll be a social outcast and not go to her dumb party
.
Okay, I’d made my decision. I was going with Anton Bowler even though there wasn’t a hope in hell that I’d fall in love with him. I wanted to be the only girl in school to be seen jiving in the audience on live TV all over Australia even if it meant going steady with a square creep like Anton who had the personality of a tampon. When I think about it, some women actually marry slugs like Anton so they can have the rich lifestyle.
Dear Diary
,
On Sunday Anton and I went out on his father’s yacht. I’d never been on a yacht before. I thought it would be fab and I’d laze round on the deck getting a tan but it kept nearly tipping over. The yacht was called Kiama. They said when it lurched sideways it was called heeling and it wouldn’t tip over because it was forty feet long with five tons of lead in the keel. Anton drank beer and spewed all over my new sandshoes. Let me tell you, diary, Anton is gross but Anton-spew is super
GROSS! Sigh, sigh, sigh. I don’t think I can keep going steady with Anton Bowler even if he’s going to become the richest man on earth and I can live in a house with a tennis court in Toorak
.
You see, Anton didn’t make any sexy moves so I was safe there. We’d only got to kissing lightly on the lips. But it was like kissing a cake of soap. Not a heartbeat, not a squiggle low down in my tummy. Nothing!
What should I do? I could dump him, but then I’d feel bad because he’d given me a marquisette lover’s knot brooch, a string of pearls, some Paris Mist perfume in a huge bottle, a mirrored compact, and three orchids that were in the fridge.
Dear Diary
,
When I told Ally I wanted to dump Anton she said I should give all the presents back when I dump him, like you do if an engagement breaks off. But I’ve used most of the perfume and I liked the jewellery
and compact. And I still haven’t got to
Bandstand.
