Girls have always been an alien subject to me, and Google Translate has been no help in deciphering the meaning behind what they say or do.

Me: How do you tell if someone wants in your pants?

Google Translate: Darekaga anata no zubon ni shitai baai dono you ni iu nodesu ka?

For instance, she had to force our first kiss, and it was no less than ten months into the relationship. Up until that point, she could have been wearing some sort of neon sign around her neck-

Hypothetical Sign: KISS ME, YOU IGNORANT BASTARD

-and I still probably would have not noticed what she wanted to do until it happened.

She smiled, and returned to splashing brown and ebony all over her paper.

I worry if it all bleeds through. The desk she's sitting at has plenty of personality already.

Desk: ANARCHY

Desk: bitches

Desk: R.K. *heart* N.J.

Desk: quickly what is the answer to number 7

My desk responded with

Desk: 'alliteration'

And then hers chimed in with

Desk: this is a true or false test dumbass

P.A. Lady: There will be a brief faculty meeting in the library, at 8:40. That's a brief faculty meeting in the library, 8:40.

I checked my watch. It was 8:41.

P.A. Lady: We will be having a brief faculty meeting in the library at this moment. Teachers, please head to the library now.

I sighed, and walked away from the door as an ex-teacher-of-mine left from her room, muttering under her breath. It was from her, that I learned, that "brief" and unexpected "faculty meetings" were tyically a red flag shouting that someone either directly or tangentially related to the school's student body or faculty has died, and they wanted them to break the news to the students /oh-so-gently./

Or not. I've seen it handled worse.

Anonymous Teacher: So, uh. The Oklahoma History teacher died. Okay, now take out your textbooks.

Although I'm sure that makes me some sort of whore. I can't say I've ever been clear on the different classes of prostitutes- I find it a direct result of all of the sheltered life that I've had that I can't pick apart hos, sluts, and prostitutes.

I'll make a note to look up the three on Wikipedia or something for a laugh. It's a favorite pastime of mine to Wikipedia dirty articles and feed it into Microsoft's speech synthesizer.

But I know his name, so I don't care. Actually, that's a positive thing, depending on how you look at it. On one hand, there's a person who's curious about him. That's an ego boost. On the other, he's a homosexual and wants in his pants. That's a reason to wear a chastity belt and to lock your windows at night.

And between these metaphorical hands, hopefully shattered on the floor, is the idea that he doesn't care.

Jesus, I hope he cares. If he doesn't it'll probably be enough for me to grab him and scream something to the tune of WHY AREN'T YOU NOTICING ME and immediately run away because he'll probably turn out to be agressively heterosexual and he doesn't want fag hands on his attire.

And then the next day I'll encounter him and he will turn away and mock me because denying me a view of his face.

If I was straight, and I had people staring at my face, I'd find it more flattering than anything else.

Although if I were straight then admittedly I would also stave off the guys who want to feel me up. Or down. How do you "feel down" somebody?