When I was in high school, I hid in the back seat of an old boyfriend's car when he was out with another girl. He finally found me, but not until after he had made out with her for an hour.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
I was a high school senior and home alone one night with my younger brother. And a guy - gunman - kicked in our front door at our home in New Jersey and held the two of us captive. We escaped. He caught us again. We escaped again. So, a pretty horrific experience.
I got thrown out of school several weeks in my senior year being caught in the girls' dorm. This was 1954, friends. The girls' dorm was off limits. Even to girls, I think.
I once threw a water balloon on a girl because I caught her cheating on me. She was kissing my friend and I thought, 'Oh, this can't be happening.' It was bad and I was much older than you think throwing a water balloon. I was 14.
Time and time again, as a boy, I was humiliated. I celebrated my first day in long pants by going to a dance where I fell sprawling on the floor, and was so ashamed that I jumped up, ran away and left my girl to get home the best way she could.
I was sort of traumatized by girls in the third grade. Because there was a girl in my third grade class I had a crush on. I bought her a box of Valentine's Day chocolate. And I put it in her cubby with a note that said something like, 'I am deeply in love with you, Your Secret Admirer.' And I didn't sign my name.
It started in middle school. Once, a group of girls locked me in the janitor's closet. Another time, a girl spilled chocolate milk down a dress I made. Girls would try to trip me in the hallway.
I started running away when I was five years old. It wasn't until I was an adult that I realized what I really wanted was somebody to come after me when I was running away.
One time I went into a restroom and a girl followed me in. I signed an autograph for her in the sink. It was pretty funny because she was in a guy's restroom and she wasn't embarrassed at all.
My best friend and I went to sleep-away camp every summer. We'd share stories of making out with boys, but we never did, so we made it all up. My real first kiss was at a friend's house when I was in junior high. He was such a good kisser, and we're still close friends!
When I was coming home from school as a youngster, and I saw my dad's car in the driveway, I would go to a friend's house. I connected my dad being there with fear.
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