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Rated: E · Other · Relationship · #1904705
A poem about pretending to be dumb for a guy (never a good idea).
Pretentious of the Wrong Sort

He smiles at you.
And he's got such nice straight teeth and nice deep dimples
that you just smile back, and laugh
when he makes another blonde joke.

Your essay is on the wall again,
as an example of perfection.
And your parents are proud,
and so are you,
yet you don't tell your friends, you definitely don't tell him
that the essay is yours.
You just avoid the question when he asks you your score
and he thinks you did terrible, and you let him think that.
He shows you his essay, which he got
an A on.
It's not perfect, and you're
making corrections in your head
that you don't dare voice.

It's cold at the football game
so he gives you his jacket,
it smells nice, and it's warm
and you like him so much.
But he keeps calling you pretty
even though you don't want to
just be pretty.
But that's what he wants you to be,
so you sit on his lap and let him kiss you
because that's what pretty girls do.
And then you go home,
and you stay up reading The Odyssey,
and when you finish that,
you write.

Just last week you applied to the gifted program,
which your parents always wanted you to do.
And your teachers all told you
that you needed to be in it
and they tell you that you're something special.
You finally had the guts to
take the test
to see if they'd let you in,
and you knew nearly every answer.
And the teachers were so impressed
and they all swore they weren't surprised.
And you aren't either, really.

And you walk into the room
where gifted students spend time
learning to do incredible things.
And the teacher takes you to the
front of the class,
and all you see is his eyes on you.
But then the teacher says that they're lucky to have you with them
and tells them your score
on the entry test.
They all gasp
and there's a bunch of eyes
looking at you in shock and approval.
The eyes all look in approval,
except for his,
his seem almost angry.

You sit down by him and
he asks you if this is a joke.
You say no, it's not,
and tell him that you are still the same,
you just are smarter than he thought.
Somehow going into this,
you thought he would be happy
that you weren't just some ditz.
You thought he would be happy
that you have a purpose.

He's not happy, though,
he's so mad.
And he says he doesn't know you anymore,
and he doesn't walk you home that day
like he always used to.

When you see him with another girl,
another blonde, pretty girl,
who can't think for herself,
it doesn't hurt as much as
you thought it would.
It actually doesn't hurt at all.
And you feel a small triumph
every time he sees your grades,
or your papers on the example wall,
and he knows you're not
who he thought you were.

And it's funny,
because you thought he was a good guy.
And you thought it was worth pretending to be dumb,
just to be with him.
But now you see that you like yourself
the way you are.
And there's a boy in gifted who
admires you because you're smart.
And maybe his smile isn't so straight,
and maybe he doesn't have dimples,
but his smile is still a whole lot nicer.

© Copyright 2012 Savannah Blair (savannahbw at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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