How to Fail at Juggling Two Girls in One Easy Step

Going to a private elementary school, located in a dying crime-ridden city, offers many benefits. The primary benefit for me was that I actually received a solid educational foundation while many other kids in my city were learning the fine art of not getting shived during art class or mastering techniques for mugging the newspaper delivery boy who made the mistake of riding his bicycle past the playground during recess. Staying after school at my institution meant hanging with the priest who had grown up in Japan and could fold some serious origami. Origami folding may seem useless, but when the annual paper airplane competition competition was around the corner, folding skills were of the utmost import. In short, in my city private education meant actual education, including esoteric endeavors, and public education meant street smarts.

It wasn’t all math and paper airplanes though. There were also life lessons to be learned. One lesson I learned was how not to juggle multiple girls.

As my school was small and heavy on retention, by the time fifth grade rolled around the faces were very familiar. Though our sacks had not yet descended, fifth grade also was the time when girls became much less icky. Despite the futility of female attention, our juvenile male hindbrains had become aware that such female attention was desirable, if for no other reason than an investment in the future. Alas, familiarity breeds lots of LJBF action. If one wanted to go steady, and receive the requisite attention at functions involving dancing, perhaps even including hands low on the hips, almost to the ass, at such dances, as well the end of the night peck, one had to explore the different grades.

Being in fifth grade, the fourth grade girls were not acceptable. That left but one alternative as my school offered only kindergarten through sixth grade – the sixth graders.

I was pragmatic and set my eyes on two suitable targets. They were both named Ashley and were both considered of the hottest offerings of their class of 15. I went to work during recess and got both sets of digits. Two phone numbers and only one name to remember. I was on my way.

One night, I made my first call. Ashley answered and we had what I’m sure was an enthralling conversation. I laid out my case in extremely adroit and mature terms. But Ashley was not ready to commit. So I hung up, dialed my rotary phone, and called Ashley. I laid out the same case in extremely adroit and mature terms. But Ashley, too, was not yet ready to commit. My game was not tight, it only had potential. Nevertheless, I went to sleep that night on cloud nine. Two of the most desirable sixth graders were playing right into my hand. What could go wrong?

For one thing, and only one was necessary, Ashley and Ashley were friends and had telephones that could make and receive calls to and from numbers other than mine. After ending the call with Ashley, she either called Ashley or Ashley called her. My game was exposed!

They let me have it on the playground the next day. I ended up going steady, and getting the ensuing booty brushes and pecks, with neither. Had I not discovered community theatre, and the girls from other schools that came with riveting productions of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, I would’ve been stuck in LJBF territory with my classmates for almost two more whole years. Thank god for that discovery. In my experience, it’s Huck Finn, not Tom Sawyer, who gets Becky Thatcher. And Becky Thatcher was a sixth grader. When you’re in fifth grade, it’s all about the older, more developed mature girls. And if you’re keeping one in the wings, even if it’s Becky’s understudy, make sure she goes to a different school.