For my junior year in high school, I went to the local community college. One of the high school graduation requirements that I still had to fulfill at the community college was 2 years of PE. I took PE in 9th grade and got a C from Mr. Wood. Needless to say, I wasn't thrilled about the prospect of another year of GPA-dropping PE at the community college. I heard that if you were in school sports, you would get the PE credit even if it was only 1 semester. Score!
My friend and I tried out for cheerleading for the community college basketball season. She had ambitions of being a cheerleader, and I had ambitions of getting that stupid PE credit I needed in the easiest way possible. My friend didn't end up getting onto the squad. I did. I'm flexible, I can clap, I can do a perfect cartwheel (even now!), and I like hip hop. If you add in that back then I had really long blond hair, I could maybe even pull off marginally fitting in with the stereotypical look.
I was bummed that my friend didn't make it because I didn't know the rest of the girls. They seemed superficially nice enough, I guess. Lots of talk about the basketball players, hair products, clothes. And even more basketball player talk. Listening to all of these girls talk, it sounded like a lot of drama about who was dating whom, who had short-term relationships with whom, who was the old girlfriend/new girlfriend of each basketball player. I didn't even know who the basketball players were. Community college is a lot different than high school. People come and go so much more, there's not a lot of common hallways, or much opportunity to meet people aside from classes. I was dating a non-basketball player anyway and had no real interest in getting to know any of these guys in question.
One of the cheerleaders took me under her wing. I think she was the troublemaker of the group, the one who had "short-term relationships" with several of the basketball players while they were dating the other girls. Since I had absolutely no history with her and the other girls weren't all that nice to her, she latched onto me. She was one of those that had no ability to censor herself, and the tales she told about all these guys would shock most people. At least she shocked my 16-year old self.
Very early on into this cheerleading gig, we had the first party of the season with the basketball players. It was at a basketball player's house, lots of beer, loud music, and we're all supposed to show up. I don't think it was just the players and the cheerleaders because that would only be 16 or so people, and there were more like 30 people there. I guess some other popular people were invited. Community college basketball groupies??
The girl who latched onto me wanted us to get ready together. I don't really "get" why girls get ready together for events, but whatever...this was the new, cool, popular me who was trying to fit in, so I went along with it. I go to her house (so of course I was already "ready"), and we're doing our hair (which for me is just brushing my hair because I'm fancy like that) and she says she almost forgot something.
She gets out a stack of purple paper and starts writing her name on it over and over again with what looks like her phone number. Her name had an "i" in it, and she put hearts above the "i" in her name. So I ask, "What are you doing?"
She tells me that she's making her info ahead of time to pass out to guys that she thinks are cute at the party. It was one of those moments where I do the nose and forehead simultaneous scrunched up thing that I do - when I'm so amazed by someone that I can't even hide it. She tells me I need to do the same thing. More scrunched up-ness by me. "But I already have a boyfriend." Her genius response: "But these are BASKETBALL PLAYERS."
I wanted to say: "If they were REAL basketball players, they'd be at UW or, you know, a school that's known for, you know, basketball. This is community college." I refrained though.
We go to the party. I think she's cool because she has a car. I just turned 16 and didn't even take my driving test yet. As you might expect, at the party there's a keg and late teen/early 20s tall guys running around and acting like idiots. Let's not forget the small clusters of girls who are trying to look nonchalant as they pretend to talk to each other while they spy on their chosen guy guzzle beer directly from the keg or nitpick the clothes of another girl. I just want to go home and read a book, talk to my boyfriend, wash my hair, watch paint dry - the options of what I'd prefer to do are actually endless.
More mingling between the genders happens as the night goes on. Personally I think it took so long because the guys had to get drunk enough to have the courage to say anything to the girls. For some crazy reason, I got a lot of traffic, as in lots of guys came over to me and introduced themselves and tried to make conversation. I think it was because I was the novelty. They already knew all the other girls.
In junior high and high school, I never hung out with the jocks. I'm a nerd. I calculate worthless crap in my head and talk about marginal utility in everyday conversation. They don't speak nerd, and I don't speak jock. Sure, I can appreciate an attractive guy, but I find mental agility and things like goals/dreams/contemplations more satisfying. If a guy is a real dolt, what in the heck are we going to talk about? Subwoofers and rims? Basketball magazines? That's not to say a guy can't be athletic AND smart. I'm not that judgmental. But trust me, I talked to almost every guy at that party, and there were no Kurt Vonneguts or Alan Greenspans there. I know how to find them in a crowd, even if they're dressed in black leather and have blue hair. Or in this case, wearing baggy jeans and beer t-shirt with a baseball cap on backwards.
As I learned that night, the conversations with these basketball players weren't all that extensive. They go something like, "Can I get you a beer? Sure you don't want more beer? Did you see Austin Powers yet? Want to go upstairs and see my CDs?" No, no, no, and no. He hits a wall in the conversation items, and he walks away to the next victim.
After the third or fourth conversation that went something like that, I decided to find my ride. Ha! I can't find her anywhere, so she must be looking at a basketball player's "CD collection." It's too far to walk, all the other girls seem very cozy with their drunkenness and not at all ready to leave, so I just sit there and watch the basketball players do idiotic games involving beer. Believe it or not, it's easier to watch that than the drunk girls falling all over the guys.
HOURS later my ride finally comes downstairs. At this point, I'm pissed. A PE credit is not worth all this crap. Do these girls have absolutely no self-respect? And do any of these guys have IQs that are in the 3 digits? I cannot spend 15 hours a week doing this for the next few months.
My ride with an "i" in her name is finally ready to go home. Being that I'm already pissed off, I of course ask about the purple slips of paper that she was going to pass out to the cute guys. I don't know how many she took to the party, maybe 5-7. She says that she passed them all out.
And that's when I burned my bridge. Beyond pissed, I went for the jugular although I will say that I phrased it appropriately (I focused on the behavior, not the person). I will not repeat it because, well, it was mean. She was actually a nice girl who was sincerely troubled with few positive role models in her life. I was angry about the whole situation, which I of course got myself into, and took it out on her. That was wrong. On the other hand, she was doing some very stupid, dangerous stuff. It's not like anyone else she knew was going to try to give her a wake-up call.
I said plenty of Hail Marys over what I said. I even apologized to her right after that, probably blamed it on the alcohol (although I don't think I was that tipsy). Still, you know when you rock someone to the core and say something that they'll always remember. Hence, why I try, try, try to only think things instead of say them after that moment.
Needless to say, I turned in my pom poms to the coach that Monday and said I just wasn't cut out to be a cheerleader. That is true; I'm way too apathetic. I eventually fulfilled the PE requirement by taking Weight Training and Step Aerobics. Compared to the cheerleading gig, they were easy peasy.
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