Good girls go to the prom. Bad girls go everywhere else- and they have a hell of a lot more fun getting there. Why be nice when it’s so much fun to be naughty?
I used to be a goody-two-shoes, the teacher’s pet. Then I got wise. By the end of my high school career, I was one of the loud girls on the back of the bus, sneaking a smoke or a sip of vodka between stops. Once I got to school- on the days I actually deigned to make an appearance- I skipped classes so I could get high with my friends. I lost my virginity in the back seat of a car.
I was an avowed bad girl, and I would only be seen with a certain type of boy. I ditched pep assemblies to kiss boys under the bleachers- boys who’d never be chosen for class president or king of the prom. Boys who wouldn’t be caught dead in a football uniform. Boys with fast cars and big dicks. Boys who smoked weed and drank Jack Daniels whiskey, and devoted endless hours to pursuits like skateboarding and beer pong and playing the bass.
I wore too much eye makeup and dyed my hair. I went to bad gigs and got drunk and stayed out all night. Here’s what I learned in high school: I learned how to roll joints, and put a condom on an impatient young man. I learned to fake an orgasm. I learned how to shoplift like a pro. I learned how to cut class, lie, and sneak out my window at night. I learned to hold my liquor. I learned to drive my parents insane.
Good times? Absolutely. The best.
I’m not so reckless now, and my wild side is mostly expressed on paper these days. But I’ll always be a bad girl at heart.