Pity the 12-year-old Boy
Emma is complaining to Adam about the boys in the lunchroom. “They keep daring each other to go sit at the girls’ table!” she moans. “That doesn’t sound so bad to me,” observes the momma. “But for a twelve-year-old boy,” Adam explains to his mother, who hasn’t been in a grade seven lunch room for some while, ‘daring’ means pushing, shouting, and throwing him right at the girls’ table.” Oh, that’s right. I remember now. Seems things haven’t changed all that much in the intervening decades. “The problem is,” I observe, “That a twelve-year-old boy expresses his interest to the girls the same way as he would with the other boys.” Adam likes this. “Yeah! Because he hasn’t really figured out that 12-year-old girls are different. He acts as if she’s interested in things a 12-year-old boy is interested in.” “Which is why,” Emma chimes in, “We’re not interested in 12-year-old boys.” A sad catch-22 for the love-stricken 12-year-old boy.