Part of the middle.

I was 15. He was 22. I started it and he just couldn't resist. We hid out for awhile in his room at his dad's house, and in the back of his blue van with airbrush painted dolphins and brown shag carpet taped to the walls inside. Once I turned 16 in August he introduced me to a few of his friends. It seemed less shitty I suppose. Banging a hot 16 year old with huge tits and a bad attitude seems mildly more socially acceptable than creeping around with a 15 year old in a molester van. 

     That was pretty much the norm though. Back then all the girls were young and stupid and all the guys were older and dealing drugs. At least that's the way all the people I knew were. 

     I never actually went on a date except for once when this nice kid I used to hang out with who went to catholic school but still smoked pot showed up at my door all dressed up and asked me to go see a movie with him. He had borrowed his parents car and put on way too much of his dad's Old Spice aftershave and I didn't even realize we were on a date until we pulled into the Olive Garden parking lot. I had just smoked a joint and he asked if I was hungry. I figured fuck it, I'm not turning down free pasta. That is until he tried to sit on my side of the table with me and pet my hand. I stood up and said "hey, I need to pee". I went to the bathroom and put on some Wet and Wild dark burgundy #508 lipstick and walked out the front door.  

     I made it a point to never lead anyone on like that again. 

      The one with the van was twisted. He had, well, I assume he still has, a tattoo of a native American in full headdress on his shoulder. He used to talk some shit about being part Cherokee but who knows what the truth was. His mom lived in Hawaii and he lived with his dad who seemed really old like a grandpa or something. He had brown skin all over, thick greasy black hair and a front tooth damaged by a hockey puck. Supposedly he had been a big deal high school jock and had played football and had gone to some famous hockey camp up in Canada. By the time I met him he wasn't good at anything other than pulling up my shirt and selling drugs.