Mom Allow Me To Be Boy Crazy

My mother found herself in a difficult situation not to long after we had moved to Spokane. While I was still probably too young to know what she meant and what I could have done differently, but as I grew older she would routinely refer to me as 'boy c razy.'

Of course, for some mothers this is a pesky problem that can remain largely unchecked.  For me, this presented a totally different level of challenge for my Mom.

I cannot say how might have been the best way to handle this situation, but I feel that to the best of my understanding, Mom handled it as best she could.  First of all, she accepted that she could not allow me to be a 'girl' when it came to wearing dresses, being a daughter and competing in pageants and deny me the option to be a 'girl' when it came to boys.  Secondly she accepted that I was 'boy crazy' and decided that the best way to control the situation was by keeping the dialogue open between her and I when it came to boys.

Maybe my Mom recognized that being the girl I was that it was more important to me to be more 'girl' and as such be more interested in boys. I do not know if this was the case, but  I know that often it seemed to me that girls my age and even boys my age were less interested in the opposite gender than I was.  It was more often than not the case that older boys liked me more than younger boys.

On a trip to Seattle, we stayed at a popular hotel and there were several kids my age out at the pool.  I wore my blue bikini and a boy who had to be about three years older than me kept checking me out.   I got the same attention about a year later when we were at the beach.  I was only eleven at the time and he had to be about fourteen, but we made out on the beach that day.

I had to keep pushing his hand away as it was quite obvious that as an older boy he wanted to go farther than I wanted to go.  But although I had to tell him to 'Stop' several times, it felt great that he kept trying.  One time he didn't stop and I couldn't make him stop and he learned more about the girl he had been kissing than he wanted to learn.

I did not tell Mom about the boy on the beach that day.  Back home in Spokane it never would have happened.  But we were a long way from Spokane, and the boy was really cute and I halfway kinda wanted him to find out, to see what he would do, see what we would do.

I did not tell Mom about the boy on the beach because it was against the rules that I had allowed him to even try. She would have told me that I never should have allowed it to get so far, that I should have left the first time he tried. And she would have been right. However, it was not the first time I had broke one of Mom's rules when it came to boys nor would it be the last. But I did really appreciate that she was willing to let me talk as much about boys as I wanted to share.