The Bowl-Cut With A Boner

Some girls are Boy Magnets. They're the girls every boy had, has, or will have a crush on. The girls that every guy wants to show off to his buddies. The girls who own the asses every boy wants his hand on in front of his buddies. They not only have a boyfriend, they have a long line of Potentials for when they kick the boffy to the curb. They are beautiful. They are envied. They are...Boy Magnets. Then you have girls who are simply Hormone Magnets. You know the ones. They walk by a boy, and he whistles and says something profound like, "Junk in DAT Trunk!" or "Lemme introduce myself to those two friends you got there!" (Breast Reference. Yeah I didn't get it my first time, either.) They walk by another boy, and he looks her up and down and makes a sound like, "Mmm mmm mm-mm-mm," or simply, "Mmmmmmm." They walk by another boy, and he sprints to the bathroom to flog the log. They are Pamela's. They are J-Lo's. They are...Hormone Magnets. THEN you have the sad and pitiful category that for some odd and highly unexplainable reason I seem to fall into. Future-Pedophile Magnets.

"She's hot."

So he didn't direct this statement directly towards me, but I was in the middle of a conversation with him and ONE other guy when he suddenly turns to the guy and says:

"She's really hot."

I hope you can imagine how uncomfortable that is for a girl. Especially when he says it, then turns, looks at me, and then looks down at my chest. It doesn't get any more uncomfortable than that.

"I would masturbate to her picture."

I cannot even begin to describe the Uncomfortableness of that situation. I could have been shitting my pants, and it would not have made a difference. I could have been shitting in someone ELSE'S pants, and it would not have made a difference. That's how uncomfortable it was. Try to grasp this, PLEASE.

"She can give me her picture if she wants."

Note to guys who are interested in masturbating to a girl you are currently acquainted with: Ask for the girl's picture BEFORE you let her know what you're going to do with it.

"NO! NO. NO. NO. NOOOOOOOOOO."

I let the O's drag on as I walked away. If he can be that straightforward, SO CAN I. (Though I was a freshmen at the time, I still think that was the best way I could have handled it. Things like "maturity" and "manners" don't matter when a guy is on the verge of dropping his pants and touching himself in your presence. The Divinyls may get away with it, but not the bowl-cut with a boner.)

This is when the thought first crossed my mind that I may be a Future-Pedophile Magnet. I have to admit, I was in denial for quite some time. You see, you do not want to be a Future-Pedophile Magnet. (I know it sounds intriguing...) I cannot even tell you what kind of girls Future-Pedophile Magnets are, because so far I am the only one I know. We're a rare breed. All I know is the type of guys we attract.

"Sup Natasha."

"Heeeyyyyy Alfred..."

"So I woke up this morning and my hair was green. I was like, 'Ahh SHIT!' "

"I noticed your hair was green."

"Yeah I don't know how the hell it got like that! I just woke up and it was green."

"You just...woke up...and your hair was green?"

"Yeah man but it's AWESOME. Then my mom beat the hell outta me 'cause she hates the color green. She likes purple shit, you know?"

"Oh wow. I'm sorry your mom beat you."

"It's cool. I'm getting my nipples pierced today."

"Ahhh...nipple piercings...always an option!"

"So do you have a boyfriend?"

"Nope..."
I do this thing where I speak before I think. It's kind of a problem.

"Can I get your number?"

"Sure..."
Then I do this other thing where I give Future Pedophiles my number. It's kind of a bigger problem.

"Here you go."

"Thanks. Ill see ya later then. Natasha."

"Natasha! What were you doing talking to that guy?"

"He asked for my number and I gave it to him DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT I WAS PUT ON THE SPOT, OKAY?!"

"He tried to kill himself last year! He has serious mental problems, that's why he wasn't here the last 3 years."

I feel like should have a theme song. "Future Pedophile Magnet, na-na-na-NA! Perverts hitting on her in so many WAYS! She's gonna get molested one of these DAYS! Na-na-na-NA!" Or something like that. It's taken me 5 years to accept it (it actually started in 8th grade with my first two stalkers. yes, TWO. Na-na-na-NA!), but now that I have I can get to the bottom of what it is about me that seems to scream, "PERVERTS OF THE WORLD, CAST ME IN YOUR SEX DREAMS!" Is it the hair in need of a dye-job? The chipped toe-nail polish? The same black blazer I wear every single day of my life? I mean, what is it? Does it even matter? No. They will keep on comin' anyway. Because that's what Future-Pedophile Magnets do. We distract future-pedophiles, one (or two) at a time. "Future Pedophile Magnet, na-na-na-NA! Deviants on the verge of whipping it OUT! There's nothing she can do but cover her privates, run, and SHOUT! Na-na-na-NA! Future Pedophile Magnet."