Since you asked, I would say this, "You are too young to date.You are not allowed to go out with this guy, or any guy.Believe me, this I know for sure, you will soon be hearing the doubts she has about him.
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Also, I'm not sure how she has been actually "dating" him and you didn't know till yesterday? After you get to know him tell her YOU will decide if he is good for her or not.
(12/12/2006) By Debbie52 I would find a church that has Wednesday night service (dinner) and Sunday late service, like at in the morning. Maybe this boy is a good kid just not accepted by kids his own age. We must do this for our kids, because they are not capable of knowing the danger signs like we are.
Because of this, I was drawn to people like my best friend, who was dynamic and bold.
She was the one who things happened to, the starting point of every story. He, in turn, went to find my friend and her boyfriend, who were none too pleased at having to leave so soon after we got there.
I could see my house now, coming up ahead."We need to discuss this," he said. That this was just how I felt."We'll go talk about it," he said. "We'll go somewhere."And that's when I said it."."My own voice — big, firm, filling the space — was a surprise to both of us. When I turned 21, I remember making a point, regularly, to look at teens and ask myself whether I'd want to hang out with them, much less date one. As a teen wishing to be an adult, it is easy to get in over your head. That if something feels wrong, that's all the reason you need to get out of there.
I'd been quiet for so long, worried about hurting his feelings and the ripple effects of whatever actions I took. You don't need to offer an explanation, even if someone asks you for one. You can't just hang out with a guy and not expect him to get ideas, I told myself. Especially for girls, who are often taught that being polite and sweet should override all other instincts. The teen years loom ahead and I've experienced too much to rest easily. Don't worry about being nice, or hurting someone's feelings: they'll get over it. You don't have to wait, I want to tell her, until you have no choice.
(I know how that sounds: I cringe now just typing it.) But at the time, to us, it wasn't weird or taboo as much as this epic, forbidden romance. Before long we were all hanging out together, driving around in his car: T and me in the front, my friend and her boyfriend in the back. Many memories remain fuzzy, but incidents such as that day in the forest remain in crisp detail. It was late and my parents were asleep as we drove over to the house where T. At some point, my friend left to go somewhere, and for whatever reason I didn't go with him. Maybe he only stepped out to go to the store down the block. This was after the night at his house, though how much later I cannot say.
While they made out, we made conversation, thrown together in the awkwardness of nearby coupledom. What I do remember is sitting on a couch with T., him putting on a Elton John song and telling me, in words I can't recall specifically, that he wanted to be my boyfriend. I just recall being almost to my house, when I told T. In the initial years following, I never really talked about this with anyone other than my high school girlfriends and various therapists.
How wonderful it felt to have an "adult" who valued our opinion; thought we were not just cute but interesting. I was wearing a Bundeswehr tank top I'd gotten at an Army supply store and faded jeans, a thrift shop crucifix around my neck. But as we sat there together in the sunshine, the wine buzzing my head, I suddenly felt … All I had was my instinct and discomfort — a bad gut feeling. When I write novels, there is always a clear trajectory: the beginning, middle, climax, and end.
My best friend was 14 when she fell in love with a 21 year old. My friend's older boyfriend was close with a guy I'll call T. My mother, spying him from the front window, asked me how old he was."I don't know," I said. After awhile, my friend and her boyfriend disappeared, leaving T. With real life, however, and memory especially, it is harder to keep things so neat and organized. In the first, I snuck out of the house with a guy friend who lived down the street. My friend came back, we went home and I slid back into my bed. The second incident I remember happened when he was giving me a ride home.
If you disobey me, you will be punished." (12/09/2006) By 77's Mom At 13 a girl should not be dating.