Cheerleading

I never actually was a cheerleader... okay, maybe I was for a little while. I was an olympic caliber gymnast, so it was only a matter of time before I was asked join, and there was a really hot chick who just broke up with her boyfriend that I thought I might have an "in" with. Boy was I wrong.

No matter how charismatic one is, it doesn't change the overall femininity of flipping around and doing cheers. Even if I never acutally said them, and seldom smiled, I was still a cheerleader, and that chick eventually dated a starting wide receiver for our football team.

I had one more chance when we went away for some big meet. I thought if I could get her alone with the whole sleepover thing, maybe I could work some magic. Unfortunately I had to bunk with this guy, that I hadn't noticed due to my infatuation with that chick, had a huge crush on me. With the lights out, I felt an odd pressence in bed with me. There was like a snake crawling up my leg. I tensed up, fearing I'd be bit, when I heard:

"It's okay, it's just me. Just relax, and I'll make everything better."

Needless to say I was out of there with the quickness. I hitchiked 262 miles back home in my pajama pants and a white T-shirt. Our squad lost without my unique combination of acrobatics and ability to lift girls up. That chick also called me that Sunday night and asked what I was doing that week. She thought it was hot that I was so reckless, and that I wasn't officially a cheerleader anymore. Go figure.