I've Still Got it After All These Years

What is is about a tween in a catholic school uniform and knee-high socks that gets middle-aged men all hot under the collar? I swear, I never got more cat calls and up-and-down stares than when I was in elementary school.

There was this time in 6th grade that my two best friends and I were hanging out after school chatting together on a streetcorner, when all of a sudden a car sped by and out flew three poloroids. We began rapidly talking over each other.

"What the hell was that?"

"You go pick it up."

"No you!"

"I'll do it."

"What is that?"

"It's a french fry. Someone holding a french fry."

"Let me see it."

"Turn it around this way."

"That's not a french fry. That's a...."

"A penis!"

Yep, some dude had thrown close-ups of himself masturbating at three innocent 12-year-old girls. Eww. That was the borderline pedophila stuff.

As I entered high school, the cat calls continued; however, to my relief they were usually hurled from the windows of cars holding guys much closer to my age. Cute guys. Guys could actually date me "legally." It was still lewd and wholly inappropriate, but I won't lie and say that I wasn't, in a weird way, flattered. Not that I should have been. I mean, they were yelling at anyone in a skirt. And I just happened to be passing by while their testosterone was peaking. But still, it made me feel powerful. Pretty. Admired.

Sick, I know. I should seek couseling. Probably.

But on to the main point.

In the last few years, I've noticed that I'm not getting any. Attention, that is. In fact, over the last three years or so, I've barely received an unwanted glance. Not even a whistle. Nothing. And it has been kind of disconcerting. Because God help me, I want a little attention. For old times' sake. Just one little comment. One little, "hey baby." I want to feel like I still have "it". The "it" being whatever makes men stop and drool and toss out an inappropriate remark. I couldn't have lost it so soon, could I?

Then finally, it happened.

As I was walking to work last week, I passed a man on the street and heard him say, "Oooh baby."

I couldn't believe it. I turned around. Was he talking to me?

Oh yes, it was undeniable. He was clearly staring me up and down. I began to blush and get that old feeling back. The feeling of female prowess. The feeling that I could turn my head, ignore him and walk away, leaving him longing and drooling. The feeling that I still had it!

And yes, by God, I did. I still had it! After all these years. And this just proved it to me.

I went on my way. It was juvenile and egotistical and shallow, I know, but I felt rejuvinated. I had finally been noticed by someone. Finally.

So what if he was drunk. And homeless. I don't care what you say--it still counts!