For the most part, I'm a goody two shoes. Growing up I was always the teacher's pet, eager to please and gather gold stars next to my name. I'd call home if the train ride after school was delayed. I didn't chase after boys or wear suggestive clothing. And cursing has never been my thing.Perhaps it's because I never rebelled during my teenage years that I now find myself wishing I could be bad if only for a little while. Yes, there have been a few times when my lapse in judgment led to some out-of-character behavior (click on "Want more?" below the LinkWithin widget to read about three such moments), but sometimes I feel like I don't have enough juicy stories. Not that living is defined by the number of times you get into trouble or put yourself in danger, but constantly following rules and taking everyone else into consideration seems so, well, dry as toast.
There's this rush that comes with shedding my daytime persona, letting my hair down, the glasses at home and slipping into a wild child outfit. The strut changes with the attitude and the city night becomes the soundtrack. And the attention emboldens me. I laugh, I dance, I tease. I dare to glance at him a second longer...before smiling and then slowly looking away, wondering what's going through his head right then. In mine I question if he'd still think I was attractive if my skirt weren't riding up so high.
But hours after midnight, it all starts to revert. My energy zapped, I just crave a hair band, warm PJs and bed. And as I wipe away the mascara and the silvery eye shadow, I realize, I also want someone who'd want me on the good days as much as on the very bad. All I know is for now, this inner she wolf is going to keep begging to go out and play...and her calls keep getting louder.
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Like I'd mentioned before, I don't have too many memorable/ questionable moments, but here are some. I don't regret a single one.
- A month-long trip to France. Our director telling us that we were forbidden to go to Atmosphere, a Dijon club frequented by many foreigners. The reason: 9/11 had only just occurred eight months earlier and there were worries of more attacks on places were Americans could congregate. The penalty: get kicked out of the program and find your way back to the States.
But kids are young. They feel invincible. One night I finally joined the rest of the kids on their routine outing. To tell you the truth, I don't remember much about the club. I think I played pool and didn't drink. What I do remember is one of the kids running up to us saying the director had unexpectedly popped in to see if any of her students had dared to disobey. I remember a bunch of us running outside, hailing a cab, cramming inside like circus clowns and getting back to the hostel. I remember each of us sneaking past the front desk one-by-one as to not raise any eyebrows. I remember plopping down on my bed completely terrified and exhilarated about what I'd just done.
- A trip to visit a high school friend in San Diego. A late-night drive to the border and walking over to Tijuana for seedy night clubs, God awful beer (my first drinks) and canoodling with a certain friend of hers who could not leave my neck alone.
A couple days later, we stayed over at another girl's house and went to an Irish pub and got my first kiss by a marine named Justin. If that wasn't bad enough, the girls (both married), Justin and I went with his other marine buddy to his house. Make out session continued.
Until I was over it. After a while, the two guys fell asleep (watching an SNL DVD), we quietly called a cab and snuck out undetected leaving nothing behind.
- A drive into Canada for a night with a grad school buddy and about five of her undergrad guy friends. Let's just say after beers, trying to keep up with the guys, earning the nickname Dynamo and getting sick at a strip club, it was one for the books. I've only been that level of sick once after - this past July 4th.