This girl looking at me with a haughty disapproval, she thinks she can run my life with these stupid fucking rules. She's wearing a little red dress that leaves nothing to the imagination and 4 inch matching stilettos. She's ready to go to a club with a fake ID and come home wasted. Naturally, she has her long dirty blonde hair hairsprayed and teased and tangled up. This girl, she has too much make up on when she really doesn't need much at all. This girl has smokey grey eyes with bags under induced by lack of sleep that are hidden badly by foundation. Her lips are red, her nails are red, everything is red. She's holding a cigarette in 2 fingers, and her other hand is holding a big bright trendy bohemian bag. God, this girl who wouldn't tear her eyes off me was such a fucking train wreck.

She starts giving me rules to abide the rest of my teenage years by.

"The first rule," she says to me, "is to never ever date innocent guys."

Flash to the moment when I am giving this shy boy kisses on his lips - then his neck - going lower and lower. My fingers are dancing all over his lean but clothed body, and I glance up once to see the shocked expression behind his glasses, which are now slightly skewed on his face. My trail of kisses are now nearing his jeans. My hands are on his belt buckle, and the bastard stops me with his guitar calloused hands. Naturally, I am offended as fucking hell, so despite his pleads for me to stay, I grab my bag and am out the door before he can arrange himself to stop me.

Oh, but he was always the sweetest boy that wanted to hold hands and snuggle on the couch under a single blanket. He always brought me lilies every time we went out, and would always kiss my forehead between classes at school. But the whore in the red dress made the rules, and he didn't fit the criteria at that moment, so I had to leave. He must've been gay or something, anyways, right?

"The second rule," she says to me, "is to never date a guy without a car."

Flash to the moment to where I get a call from a guy I had met at Starbucks that I had given my number to. I pick it up. He was wondering if I wanted to catch a movie with him? And perhaps catch a bite to eat later? I tell him to pick me up in an hour, and he says he doesn't have a car but that he can skate over and we can walk from there. I suddenly tell him that I made a mistake and that I am busy today, maybe another time?

He was tall, laid back, and extremely sexy as hell. But that stupid bitch said no car, no chance. Why am I even listening to her? I don't understand it either, but it was too late.

"The third rule," she says to me, "is to never date a guy without experience.

Flash to the moment where I am reluctantly spooning with this guy after really fucking bad sex. I could tell he tried really hard to be amazing, but I was almost positive I had just took his virginity. He could not have sucked any more in bed. When I am sure he is completely fast asleep, I sneak out of his arms and I leave quietly, making sure the sound of the door shutting doesn't wake him up. I never saw him again after that horrible 7 minutes of fumbling around.

He was an all around good guy with extremely good intentions. He bought me nice things, and had an amazing red car that he always picked me up in after school. What they say about nice cars making up for something lacking was true in this case. He treated me like a princess, which was no exaggeration. He made sure I was a happy clam at all times, and I really do know he tried his best when I slept with him, but he just wasn't cut out for pertaining to the bitch in the red dress's rules.

There were all these other rules. No fat guys. No guys I wouldn't want to be seen in public with. No guys that weren't going to be socially accepted by my friends. No guys without money. No sweet guys that would let me step all over them. No guys that were not older by at least a year. Few guys got past these rules, and they were all basically scumbags. All these fucking rules from this stupid bitch, and I was following every single one of them.

Why, I ask her.

She still hasn't taken her eyes off me.

"These," she says, "are your golden years honey. Always party hard and fuck harder. These rules will make your teenage years so much fucking better. Old people are lying out of their asses when they say that they do not miss being a teenager. These years really are the best years of your life, your boobs are still perky and your ass is still hot. Do you really want to waste them with some fat guy who plays World of Warcraft? Who gives 2 fucks if they love you with all of their being and buys you retarded teddy bears that squeak baby talk when you squeeze them? Who gives any fucks if they aren't the hottest and the best? I am helping you with all these rules, abide by them and you'll have nostalgia over your teen years for a long time, even when you're going to the doctor for weekly collagen injections. Do you really want to throw away your reputation just for love? Your reputation would be down the drain and trust me honey, love will never ever be worth it when the cost is your reputation. The chances of you falling in love as a teenager is practically nonexistent anyways, love does not exist at this age. Mess with the hottest, stay the hottest. Don't waste your time with losers."

This girl still hasn't torn her gaze from me, and I am staring back twice as hard, and then I ask her who the fuck does she think she is to be telling me all this. Who the fuck could be that genuinely shallow and absorbed in how everyone sees her that she'd give that kind of advice genuinely to anyone that has a heart?

Then, I step away from the mirror.