when I was six I went to a co-ed school where the boys were starting to pick up on all the shit they saw in american tv shows, especially the concept of cooties. and how to be a dickhead 101, but that was a given.
the boys in my year group decided, quite solemnly, to create the first annual cross-campus kiss-chasey competition. it was pretty serious for a bunch of single digit kiddos; the winner gained the respect and awe of something like 24 students for a week. it was a big deal.
I got roped into this because frankly I didn’t give a fuck. also I ran quickly, so I figured the chances of getting caught were slim. it started out that way (and I might’ve shoved a kid into a flower bed at one point when he advanced on me with pouty lips), but soon enough daniel arrived.
now daniel was the seven-year-old equivalent of michael fassbender: gorgeous, but an absolute asshole when you really got to know him. daniel was everyone’s problematic fave. daniel was the first boy to have a crush on me, and the first to realise how I deal with unwanted approaches.
so I was chilling near the monkey bars when daniel sprinted around the corner, mouth poised like a fucking trout, and I didn’t have anywhere to run. I threw up my tiny hands, pushed back against his chest and screamed “I’M NOT GONNA KISS YOU”
"but you have to!" daniel said. what a jerk.
"no way," I replied, mildly repulsed. then, suddenly, an idea sprang to mind. grinning slowly, I turned back to daniel. "okay, how’s this. I’ll kiss you if you-" gigglesnort "-show me your willy"
that’s right. I’d kiss this kid if he showed me his dick. I was six
daniel barely took a moment to contemplate before he dropped his pants, letting the baby kraken free into the spring afternoon. hands on his hips, proud as a goddamn peacock, he closed his eyes and awaited his reward.
and then I started laughing.
and then I took his pants.
and then I started running.
and then poor little daniel was left alone, half-naked, lips still poised for a kiss from a kid who was halfway across the school with his pants and his dignity
and THAT, my friend, is how you justify me as a person.