Sexy people please our aesthetics

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First time I recall getting turned on by a woman was my second grade teacher Ms. Debenardie. I’d never seen anyone with such blonde hair. I couldn’t help but stare at her cleavage when she leaned over while reading the book Charlotte’s Web as we sat on the floor. She tried to cover up the tattoo of a bird on her ankle but I spied it every chance I could. I daydreamed of untying the ribbon holding her hair and lying together during nap time with my head between her breasts. One day I found out she was seeing someone. He picked her up for lunch in his Camaro. My friend Dean and I watched them drive off.

Dean punched me in the arm. “That dude’s an asshole,” he said.

“Yeah,” I said. “A major mother fucker for sure.”

I couldn’t understand why she would be interested in someone else. It didn’t make sense. During roll-call she spoke my name with more warmth than the other names. She gave me milk-cart duty on chocolate milk day. I knew there was something special between us.

The bell rang to close out the last school day of the school year. Kids shouted and ran out the building to waiting cars and buses. I lingered in the hall outside of Ms. Debenardie’s classroom. I held last minute hopes she would confess her attraction.

She walked out carrying boxes. She put them on the floor and locked the door behind herself.

“Do you need help carrying things to your car?” I asked.

“That’s so sweet. But it’s okay. Why don’t you go start your summer vacation?”

“I’d rather be with you.”

“Well, I’m going home. Goodbye Wayne.”

“I want to take a nap with you.”

“That’s a weird thing to say.” She turned around and faced me. “Look. One day you’re going to meet a pretty girl your own age and then you can take a nap with her. Okay?”

“You’re stupid.” I said and walked outside to my bicycle.

And that was that.

Advice based on this principle

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