If you feel a tightness in your "area" and the girl next to you with the sweater and the braces is causing this tightness, and your teacher asks you to come to the board to solve 3X + 9 = 33, yell to them for them to promptly fuck off, but don't say fuck off, or you will have to go to the principal's office, which defeats the whole idea of staying put in that seat. Just say, no thanks, I don't feel like solving algebra problems right now. If pressed on the subject of you getting up in front of the class with a tight area display, say to them, why don't you solve it - if you can; knowing full well they only got that math minor in college, too afraid of the Real Analysis class to go for the BS. Then again we get back to the idea of standing for punishment. You'll need to figure out a way to not insult the teacher, and yet not get up from your seat at any cost. Take the F if you need to. So you'll be the only 19 year old at your High School graduation, so what? It's better that the years and years of embarrassing names that will follow you until you leave the public school system. What you'll find as your painfully underdeveloped body begins to spaz out is that there is a definite schedule to the painful yet also pleasurable erection filling your pants. Plot out the erection schedule to the minute. This will help immensely. Find the target times when it is safe to stand before the class and deliver that answer in chalk. Once you've plotted the data on some of your Dad's nice graph paper, show it to your teacher for extra credit. Only in place of the y-axis's original title: Erection pain (ft lbs./sq. in), you should really replace it with something like ratio of chicken egg velocity to yolk splash pattern (m/s/sq. in).
Now let's move on to that girl in the sweater with the braces. Sure, she seems to be what is causing this painful/pleasurable zone of discomfort in your pants everyday at 10:10 AM, but she will hurt you emotionally over and over again before she will ever consider touching that thing in you pants. You basically have two options at this point. Well, ok, three. One is that you can allow the torture to continue, spending as much time in the bathroom as possible desperately trying to relieve that "pain." You're pretty much going to do that anyway, so it's not really a viable option, but, let's put it aside for now, just over there, and we'll see what else we can do.
The second option is to allow her to torment you for the next six years at which point she will give her special gift to that ass-head soccer player who has a mustache and drinks milk from a half-gallon container all day long. This option basically has the same end result as the first option, except now you hate the soccer guy and any sport that uses a ball as the object of desire for young virile studs to chase each other around for. But that's another chapter for another day.
The third option is by far the best option, and has the result of bracey teethed sweater girl actually seeing if not in real life laying hands upon your dick. And this is not at first a nice option, but it does work most of the time. What you have to remember is that the seventh grade is an emotional time for boys and girls, like yourself, and that your little seventh grade cells are freaking out with all the dividing and growing and all the hormones being produced, and bracey sweater girl all of a sudden looks like she may be, yes she definitely is developing breasts under that insanely tight sweater and why can't she just wear a trash bag anyway instead. This is rhetorical because of course, it is in BSGs nature to wear that sweater and make you freak out, kind of like a game she has going with the other BSGs in the school. Stay with me young buck, stay cool. You have to have a plan, or all is lost. You have some time here, but not a lot. In a couple of years, those braces come off, and BSG turns into Non-BSG, whose 31A is now a 34B, or god forbid a 34-36C, and oh shit my friend, then the spaceship has definitely left for the moon. If you thought BSG at 12/13 with meatloaf in her metal teeth and 31A and cords on all day was a problem, join me in a trip to High School where our new Non-BSG is a cheerleader now and wears those little white socks and on game day actually wears the official cheerleader outfit, basically a miniskirt, and shaves her impossible-to-exist legs, and you will die my friend, you will die.
So then, where are we now? A plan. What Suzie L. Hotbodytobe has not yet realized is that she has her own set of emotions that can be toyed with and predicted on a daily basis (by you) in order to achieve sexual gratification and in the end, a sense of spiritual enlightenment. Yes, handjobs behind the bleachers do count as a connection to a higher power. Look it up.
SLH is likely a little bit unsure of her body and how she looks as compared to the rest of the SLH crowd. A combination of good boy bad boy will win you at least 3 months of her best efforts and will give you that fresh glow that only comes from the release of your swimming demons by an outside source. What you need to do is to tell her how she looks nice and how nice it is to talk to her and not the other SLHs, but her, and do this without wetting your pants. This is hard to do, because trust me, you will want to either puke on her or wet your own pants, or both, and this will absolutely guarantee that no foreign hand will touch you there until you can legally drink alcohol.
On the following day after this nicey talk, you can do either of two things. A) ignore her, or, B) talk to her, but be kind of a jerk in your speech and non-verbal communications. Act aloof and spotty. Act like you have somewhere else to be, and that talking to her is a favor you are doing. This works especially well if you saw her bra, or she saw your undies, or both. This will backfire in a mean way if she has a shred of self-esteem. Be careful and don't go too far. Do not make her cry. This is how you know you've gone too far. If you see this coming on, hold her around the shoulder and suggest a trip to the soda factory, or perhaps even a milkshake, if it's not too hot out. For those of you living in the southern states who are reading this, suggest some ice water or maybe even a cool dip in the community pool.
The key is to change your behavior on a regular basis. If she catches you staring at her sweater, it's too late for you. You may as well drop out now and get your own Sears catalogue delivery so that your mom's copy will stay pristine and unfettered by your, well, you know.
There you have it. Try these simple suggestions. Don't be afraid of getting slapped. This a physical metaphor for unbuttoning of blouses. And if it's not, well, at least she touched you.
