driving in cars with boys

When I was about thirteen years old, I was seeing this punk rock kid named Kenton. He was, in my mind’s eye, wicked awesome. He was a junior in High School and drove a little silver piece of crap car, (but come on, he DROVE a CAR) and sang in a band, and had a Mohawk, and big ol’ combat boots. Needless to say, my parents couldn’t stand him. He used to drive up to my house and honk the horn until I would come out and we would hang out by the road and chat and flirt. (What, I was 13; I wasn’t allowed to drive in cars with boys, let alone date.) I used to sneak around with him and after school, he would swing by and pick me up and we’d go kiss for an hour or so. Then he’d drop me off down the street from my house and I’d walk the rest of the way home and tell my mom that I caught the late bus home.

One day as I was making the short jaunt home, Mrs. Daugherty, the neighbor down the street (whose son was the drummer in the band), drove by and stopped me. She said, “Brittany, I’m not going to tell your mom that Kenton drops you off down the street, but I want you to think about how she would feel if she found out what you are doing.”

My mind hopped over to the image of my recently bedridden mother, who narrowly escaped death in a near fatal car accident.

Hmmm. This tactic was a good one, Mrs. Daugherty. It made me stop and think about the consequences of my behavior. It made me wonder if I was making good choices. I started to actually look at my behavior and realize that I was not being trustworthy!

Now, in comparison, I will share another experience. The next year, I was seeing another boy. He was a junior and drove this little red convertible Cabriolet that he loved. We had a lot of fun together. He was, I would say, my first legitimate full fledged boyfriend. The first time that my heart was really on the line, if you know what I mean. Well, I wasn’t allowed to drive with boys, still, but of course, this did not stop me. One day, after school, I don’t remember the circumstances, but we went to his house. Apparently from the time I got into his car to the time I got out of his car, some mother (who I’m still resentful toward) saw me and reported this incident directly to my mother who consequently grounded me for a week. When I asked who told her, she refused to tell me, but let me know that mothers have a tight network and they watch out for each other’s children.

Looking back, I can admit that I was in the wrong, and recognize that teenagers can be difficult. I broke the rules. I deserved consequences. But the way it was handled made me so livid. I was so angry that the person who saw me went behind my back; that instead of helping me look at my own behavior, she took all of my independence and learning and choices away. She didn’t give me the respect that I thought I deserved.

Hmmm...Helping me realize for myself that I'm making poor choices VS. making me feel more rebelious and angry and try to figure out how to be more sneaky. I want to be like Mrs. Daugherty. Simple as that.