I asked Tanya Lee Stone, author of A Bad Boy Can Be Good For a Girl to send me a boyfriend list. Because, as you can tell from her book title, she's gotta be like an expert or something.
Her book is getting AWESOME reviews, by the way - School Library Journal said: "This is not a book that will sit quietly on any shelf; it will be passed from girl to girl to girl." And Libba Bray, author of A Great & Terrible Beauty, says it's got "...the kind of tell-it-like-it-is wisdom that comes from your best girlfriends. It's irresistible."
You can learn a lot from this list, people. It's got wedding rings hidden in sock drawers, creepy guys offering rides home, rigged spin-the-bottle games, ugly dresses and the tango. (But: lest you think those teen years were too out of control, Tanya said to tell me this list goes well into her 20s.)
Oh, and Tanya's one of the top secret (not) authors I'll be touring with this April for the release of her book and Fly on the Wall. So if you're a bookstore or a library or a radio show or something in Boston, New York, Raleigh/Durham, Washinton or Philadelphia, you should call up Random House publicity and talk to them about the Teen Voices tour.
BOYS I HATED TO LOVE
by Tanya Lee Stone
Thanks for asking me for a boyfriend list, E! In honor of A Bad Boy Can Be Good for a Girl, I thought I’d look back on some of the bad boys I hated to love.
Where it all Began. Seventh grade. Spin the bottle. The beginning of the end. Tony P. planted one on me and became my designated Spin the Bottle partner for the rest of the year—whenever we could get away with rigging the game, that is. I could never bring myself to talk to him at school, though.
Eighth grade. Even though I wore the ugliest dress you’ve ever seen, my moves won first place in a dance contest. The real prize? Jeff D. asked me out the next day. That boy had moves I didn’t want to know about!
Same year. Brian B. was in my sister’s crowd—a senior. Of course he never looked my way, but a girl can dream.
Now, the years all run together in my brain, but the boys, I remember.
Chuck L. was a very bad boy who I truly did hate, for a while anyway. It took the entire year but somehow, he changed my mind, even though he didn’t get far. Now he hated that!
Bob P. smoke and drank and listened to The Who, what’s a girl to do?
Bob T. said he didn’t have a girlfriend but did. And I believed him—twice.
Bob S. caught me staring at him one day and asked if I needed a ride home. Thank god there was no highway between school and home, because two stop signs later, I hopped out and ran for my life.
I gave up Bobs after that.
Todd Q. cried when I left after visiting him for the weekend. I hated that. Dumped him. Now I know better. Bad boys cry like the rest of us.
Todd S. said he loved me, then told someone else he loved her while I was at my cousin’s wedding.
Chad T. was at my cousin’s wedding. Hey, it’s not like I told him I loved him!
Todd F. said he did have a girlfriend, but an overwhelming thing for me. I believed him—twice.
I gave up Todds after that.
Vlad Z. stole my heart in a foreign country (gee, can you guess which one?). When he showed up to give it back, he wasn’t alone and she wasn’t happy. Neither was I, since her existence was news to me, and about as welcome as a bad bowl of borscht.
Eli P. made all my morning train rides better. Hey, it was a long commute!
Kent O. was a bad boy in a room swarming with models but he only had eyes for me. Apparently, that was enough for me to give him carte blanche to be hideously awful yet forgiven over and over and over again. No worries—I finally wised up, but ladies—it took waaayyy tooooo loooong. Don’t let this happen to you!
Oscar T. knew how to Tango—do I really have to say more? I mean, it is the forbidden dance and all. No, that’s the Lambada. No matter, he knew how to do both extremely well…and that’s all she wrote.
John C. was extremely upfront and honest. Brooding and vulnerable. Sexy and in pain. He spilled his whole heart out to me; all his deepest, darkest secrets. In his defense, he only left one out. Unfortunately, it was that his wedding ring was buried at the bottom of his sock drawer along with his conscience. Thankfully I didn’t get far enough into loving him to, well, love him, love him.
Make it stop! Now I’ve got the one I’m keeping and it’s all good.