Lesson: Fight your own battles when it comes to males.
I was five. His name was Timothy McCleod and I believe that he's responsible for me never dating ginga’s. Timothy McCleod had red hair and heaps of freckles all over his face. He was in my class but we weren’t friends, he was the class joker and for some reason I was the butt of his jokes. I hated the attention because I was so shy, even roll call would make me blush.
But, every day after school, without fail it would happen and I found it really traumatic. Every day after school I would walk out of class towards the pedestrian crossing manned by the two lollipop monitors. As I would get close to the monitors Timothy McCleod would come sprinting up from behind me and yell out, “Gizz a kiss Natasha” and bang, he would plant a kiss on my cheek and then sprint off. To this day I don’t know if it was a crush or a dare or what….but goddam it embarrassed me and all the kids would laugh and point. This went on for weeks. Then one day I accidentally told my crazy Mother. Now, saying she’s crazy is a pretty light description but this isn’t about her
The next day the unthinkable happened.
The school bell went to signal school had finished and I grabbed my bag and walked outside the classroom and towards the school exit. I started walking faster because I saw our blue Holden parked on the other side of the road, across from the pedestrian crossing and I didn’t want my Mother to see Timothy McCleod. Too late. I heard his footsteps in his black and orange Bata Bullets coming towards me, heavy and fast like usual because he was running. He came up and yelled, “Gizz a kiss Natasha…” and smacked his mouth straight onto my right cheek and went to run off. But just as his lips made contact, out of my peripheral vision I saw my Mother get out of our blue Holden. I watched her 5’2 frame come storming across the pedestrian crossing, illegally as the lolliop monitors hadn’t raised their orange bars to say it was time to cross the road safetly. Across she stormed, face like thunder and I knew this was going to be bad for everyone. Timothy McLeod had seen this little Maori woman coming and for some reason screamed to a stop in his tracks just to my left. Crazy Mum walked right up to his face, grabbed his shirt and screamed at the top of her voice, “TIMOTHY McCLEOD, IF YOU EVER TOUCH MY DAUGHTER AGAIN, I’M GOING TO SMACK THOSE FRECKLES RIGHT OFF YOUR F***ING FACE!”. And with that she grabbed my hand, dragged me across the road, threw me in the car and drove off.
Timothy never spoke to me again and I’ve never dated a ginga.
Seems to be a very rational reason not to date a ginga! How completely mortifying (and I thought my mother was embarrassing!)
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