December 8, 1997
Yesterday I was walking to my bus and I saw Aaron. He is in eighth grade and is friends with Zach, and I guess he thinks he’s friends with me, too, because when I saw him he put out his hand for me to give him a high five. When I slapped it, he held onto my hand, even though we were moving in different directions, so I thought my arm would break off.
People say Aaron goes out with girls just to get somewhere and then dumps them. It’s not like I’d ever dump Zach to go out with Aaron anyway, though.
Today I saw Aaron talking to Zach and I wanted a reason to go over there. I just asked Aaron some dumb question, but he grabbed my hand and started playing with my fingers. Steph popped up out of nowhere and was like, “You’d better stop that – her boyfriend’s right there.” I didn’t see how Zach reacted.
At least I know that if Zach dumps me and I want to hook up, I can go to Aaron and he’ll sleep with me if I want him to. Which I don’t. Because I am not a slut.
Then after school, I was standing by Jenna’s bus with Steph and Zach – Jenna was hanging out the bus window to talk with us. Suddenly, I felt an arm around my shoulders. I turned to find myself pressed up against Aaron. “Hey baby,” he said in a seductive voice. Zach turned to us and started chatting about something, and Aaron kept his arm around me. When he left, I asked Zach, “Why do you let him touch me like that? You just stand there.” Zach shrugged. “Aaron’s cool.”
I know that Aaron acts that way around everyone and that it doesn’t mean anything, but I still feel good when he touches me. I wish Zach would do that. So maybe I don’t like Aaron, it’s just being touched that I like.
[For the record, Aaron is now a fabulous, successful gay man living in the city with his gorgeous boyfriend. My sister is friends with them.]
YOU ARE READING
The UnSlut Project
Non-FictionI was the 6th-grade "slut." And I kept a diary. So I decided to create The UnSlut Project in the hopes that my own diary entries could provide some perspective to girls who currently feel trapped and ashamed. I am publishing these entries one at a...