Little Boys Love Me, Old Men Adore Me

Yes, I know that sounds creepy as shit, but it is true. I'm not quite sure why, but I offer up the following examples:

Example A: When I was teaching middle school, I was mostly well-liked by my students in general. I taught math, made it fun, and of course, my sassiness ropes most smartass teenagers in. However, there were many times that my little boys had, shall we say, strong and inappropriate feelings for me. My tutorials were full of boys, and it was not because they were struggling with math. They liked to hang out in my room and shoot the shit with me. At first I thought it was because I was knowledgeable about sports. I was raised by my father, and he never got much into Barbie and Ken, so I did a lot of boy stuff with my dad (except the lighting farts thing...I just don't get it guys!). We still do our NCAA basketball tournament brackets and bet a pounder of peanut M&M's on the championship. Anywho, I digress. So little boys were always hanging out, trying to give me hugs, and generally making the googly eyes at me. With 6th graders, they seemed more like innocent crushes, but with my 8th graders, it was as very different story. In my 12 yrs of teaching, 6 of them actually tried to kiss me! WTF? Several did a "boob graze" thinking I was unaware (of course I called their mommas!), and several also wrote me love letters in their math journals. Yes, they professed love between the lines that were supposed to be reserved for telling me what they did not understand about math and demonstrating what they did. Many times, I had to have schedules changed because some teen Lothario just wouldn't listen to my objections about unnecessarily touching me. Still creeps me out to think about it. My first year teaching, the high school brother of one of my 5th graders wrote me love letters and showed up at my school far too often until I finally had to call his parents in. And by love letters, I really mean filthy sex invites. I had to get a restraining order.

Example B: I think I just have a face that people feel comfortable talking to. Particularly old men people. I can be in the store, at work, or even on an airplane, and these grandpas start chatting me up (usually not in a lecherous way, but still). Of course, I'm a nice person (SHUT IT BITCHES!), and people in general tend to interest me, so I will converse with them. Recently, on the plane ride back from Denver, an older gentleman of 82 sat next to me on the plane. He was lovely, and I shared my iPod with him. It never fails that at the end of such exchanges with the old farts that they refer to me as "delightful" and "adorable". Not uncomplimentary, but I still don't understand how I end up in these conversations with men my grandfather's age instead of the hot backpack guy two rows up.

Example C: At my current job in Mayberry, I have a never ending stream of little boys wanting to see me. I can't walk down the hallway without several stopping me with, "Hi Ms. Sassy! Can I come and talk to you later?" or "I need to see you!" Do I appreciate the adoration of children? Absolutely. I love children. But today, one of the busiest and most hectic days for me in a long while, I had a steady stream of little boys vying for my attention. Some threw fits to get sent to see me...and told me so outright. Excuse me? That cannot be happening. I don't want anyone to think I'm some kind of little boy diddler! In this day and age, people are cutting eyes at educators who seem popular with today's youth (thanks for that, you stupid statutory bitches on TV!).

Now, I know you are thinking that I should really be grateful for such attention and devotion from boys and old guys, and on some level, I am flattered. BUT. Guess what? I'm not a little girl, and I'm not an old woman yet. Where the hell are all you bastards in between? I think we've established that I'm a sassy blonde that's more fun than a barrel full of fuckin' monkeys!

What gives? I want answers, and I want them now!

*I asked my priest what he thought while I was at confession. All I got from him was the "God has a plan for you, Sassy. Count your blessings!" Gee, thanks for nothing there, Father Liam.

**Shit! I just insulted my priest. Guess I'll see him again before the week's out. Being a Catholic is not easy, people.