Title: Random Musings From A Blond Perspective

Author: Balticbard

Email: balticbard@yahoo.com

I wonder sometimes why people are so obsessed with blonds, or with being blond. As far as I'm concerned, I really don't understand it.....I mean....to me its totally exaggerated. Every morning when I get out of bed, I go to the bathroom, look in the mirror, and I see the same conventionally pretty face, with big, blue eyes, and the hair; long, straight, naturally blond hair. Yes, I'm blond. No, I'm not a bleached blond with the black roots. I happen to be one of those odd, rare occurrences; I'm the real thing.

At the moment I am seventeen years of age, I am a highschool student with some degree of sucess, which means that although I'm not a prodigy, I'm not a complete fool.....well to put it bluntly I have very good grades, a bit above average, and good enough to get me into an acceptably good university when I graduate next year.

Right now, I'm a cheerleader. Oh, that stings, doesn't it? I happen to be blond. I also happen to be a cheerleader. Okay, I'll even add one last blow; I happen to date on, and off the captain of the football team. Please, don't hyperventilate if all of this sounds so typical, out of some trashy adolescent movie. I wanted to date the star pitcher of the baseball team, but well....he just happened to be gay. So, I settled for the tall, muscular, gorgeous football star of the highschool. Oh, my boyfriend is also blond. Isn't that just so chic? My friends, or should I say, my clique also consists of cheerleaders, all of them blond. Oh, how typically cliche. But its my reality. I like it. So what.

Wait. I'm going to drive the dagger even deeper into your wound, well that is if you're a typical couch potato who was anonymous in highschool, and who's gained at least fifty pounds, then in that case you'll want to murder me. I also happen to be very popular. Well, what did you expect?

A lot of guys are always asking me out on dates, and everyone looks at me when I walk by. I dress very well, I also look good in what I wear. Here goes another dagger into your heart; I have a great figure, and I have this great fashion sense that makes me choose the right clothes, and colors, and accessories, yadda, yadda, blah, blah.....you know the rest. And this sensation of being popular, of being lusted after by the best looking guys in school, of getting a date easily, of being the perpetual fantasy of every underdeveloped, zit-plagued, scrawny looking, little guy in school is quite.....interesting. I should add, the feeling of having every girl watching you, envying you, wanting to be you, of somehow trying to emulate you, of dreaming of being you.....is frustrating.

How do I put this? I'm in here, inside the bubble that everyone else has built around me. I'm looking out at everyone else, and I don't feel like the goddess they make me out to be. No one likes my friends because they're all bitchy, and superior, and even though its all true, I still keep them. My friends are capable of stabbing me in the back, and they envy me for the smallest reason; for being a natural blond. Can you believe that kind of stupidity; I am the object of envy because of my coloring. But it is fun to tell my friends when they have to dye their bottle blond manes, "your roots are showing again," I tell them, just to see the angry glares I get, then the rush to the mirror to check their scalps. So much for my cheerleader/blond friends, who's only favorite topics of conversations are make-up, fashion trends, movie-gossip, and fads in nail polish.

My football boyfriend is a total drip; he has a good heart, but that's it. In bed, my boyfriend is clumsy, and brief; he can't keep up an erection long enough to make me get an orgasm. He can't even turn me on to make me get started. He has the level of intelligence of a squirrel on cocaine, and I don't even bother trying to talk to him. Having sex with him has become a very rare occurrence, thankfully, because now he has become overly attached to weightlifting, and to his best friend, the school's star baseball pitcher, to whom I am eternally grateful. Yes; my football player has discovered he is a homosexual, so we date just for looks now, and we have become good friends. That is one of the good things about being me; no more having to have sex with a guy. Thank God!

Well....I guess that should tell you something about me; I'm.....not exactly straight. Well.....I play a role, I carry a perfect facade which no one has penetrated, and never will because I am so popular, and I have two, very powerful allies; my football player, and his lover, the star pitcher, and the three of us have formed a secret inner circle to watch each other's backs. Being outed for being gay in this highschool means total social death for the victim, and becoming a social leper to be avoided, and shunned for the duration. Sorry. That is not what I want. So....I guess I have to come out to a total stranger. To you.

I'm blond. I'm a cheerleader. I'm an object of male's fantasies. I'm popular. I'm a lesbian......

I've known for years that I was different; ever since first grade. I started daydreaming about my female friends very early on. I got crushes on girls instead of boys. I thought it was normal, because none of the girls in my class liked boys then. But when the age for liking boys rolled around, and all the girls started liking them, I didn't. I stayed the same; secretly liking girls, and keeping my mouth shut about it because being different wasn't a good thing.

Oh....another thing.....I don't like blonds. Redheads are nice, but don't do it for me. I love brunettes. I absolutely obsess over brunettes. There's something about brunettes that enthralls me; the way they move, their shape, their color.

I have a type of woman that I like; she's medium height, about 5'8" or 5'7" (I want her to be just a bit shorter than me) slender, but not skinny as in bones showing. No. She has to be voluptuous with lots of curves, and she has to have a tiny waits, with unbelievably long legs, with slender arms. She's pale, not deathly, sickly pale, but fair, and unblemished. I detest sporty, tanned types with muscles everywhere. Lets face facts; I'm a lipstick lesbian, and I want one for myself; a woman who is extremely feminine. If I wanted a butch, I'd go out, and get a man.....thankfully I don't want one, but I won't settle for a bad clone of one. I don't go for that shit about women who wear men's clothes. Sorry. I am so biased, even as a lesbian, but hey its my life, so shove it. Sorry for the expletive. But enough of the rambling. I said that my ideal woman has long, dark hair. She has big eyes, any color, and full lips. Oh please God, I want full lips on my woman, with the erotic pouting. Full lips are great to kiss, to lick, to suck on.....Sorry. Rambling again.

I'm starting a new paragraph to explain; I have dreamt about such a woman all of my life, the way that I described her. I have seem a lot of women that came close, but it wasn't HER, the one that I want. I have been with a man, my football hero, but I stayed celibate after he went gay. I decided to wait, and find my dream woman. I don't want one-night stands, I don't want to settle for second best. I want my one, and only. No matter how long it takes, I want to find her, then.....I want to keep her permanently.

So, I'm seventeen, and already looking for a lifetime commitment? Big deal alright already. My heart is old inside, and I'm tired, and lonely in here. I'm wealthy, so I don't have to work. Heck....I'm so damn wealthy I don't even have to go to college. But I want to.....gives me something to do. Sorry. More rambling. But like I said before; I want.....well to put it bluntly, I want a wife.

Now, for the problem; I finally found my dream girl. She had been under my nose all of the time. Actually, we sort of grew up together, in the same neighborhood. We were never friends, but we went to school together, and we hated each other's guts. We insulted each other in school all of the time. She had her friends, I had mine. Simple as hell, she hated me, and I hated her back, and we argued all of the time we were near each other.

I never really saw her as my dream girl. Growing up she was ugly as hell; she wore thick, dark-rimmed glasses, she had freckles, huge braces on her teeth, she was skinny, with mousey, stringy hair. She didn't have friends; just two, or three, and she was a bookworm. Typical, mousey, ugly, short, skinny little dip who hates my guts with the intensity of a super nova, turns out to be the woman of my dreams, and who I am desperately lusting after, so much that it hurts me inside, and I want to ask her to be my lover forever.

My girl was so ugly, that not even the most desperately starving dog would want a bone from her body. But well....she doesn't look that way anymore. Since her mom couldn't do anything about her looks, she was handed over to a wealthy uncle who simply plucked her out of school one day, and shipped her off to Europe. I didn't see that overbearing, opinionated, little bitch for almost one year, and then she came back to town, and she was a totally different person.

Life is funny sometimes; and not all people develop the same. I developed early, and I never had any problems with my looks. Some of my friends took a little longer to develop, but they caught up with me. For the most part, most of us bloomed into adolescence in the normal manner. But then, there are the ones who seem to stay trapped in childhood, like my girl, who just seemed to look like a small, ugly child for most of her adolescence, until she finally exploded, and took the rest of us with her, especially me, and my heart along for a wild ride.

It seems that my girl was holding out on me, and when she was sent to Europe for a while by her rich uncle, her genes, and hormones decided it was time to explode, and catch up to adulthood. She made up for lost time in months, developing in weeks what it would take years to develope, and finally became what I would have to say is the most beautiful girl that I have ever seen.

I was away for an entire month when my girl came back to school. I was told by my football babe, that when she walked in that first day, the whole school went wild; they had never seen anything like her. She had an air of refinement, and culture that no one else had. She looked, and acted European, and she was so smartly dressed, that she had my cheerleader friends following her around like dogs, not to mention the best looking guys added to that.

I came back from my spontaneous vacation a week early, and when I went to school I didn't see my girl straight off. I went though half of the school day, and went to gym class where I saw her out on the field, running with the track team. The first time I laid eyes on her, I almost swallowed my tongue (oh how I daydreamed of having her give me CPR).

She was about 5'8', slender, voluptuous, with long, curvaceous legs, with slender arms, with what seemed the tiniest waist in the entire world, she had a swan neck, firm shoulders, small hands, she had a peaches and cream complexion, totally unblemished, her breasts were about a B cup, round, firm, jiggling just the tiniest bit, in the most erotic fashion when she moved. She was wearing tight, black spandex under her blue, track shorts, and a sleeveless, loose, gray t-shirt, and dirty, white Nikes on her size eight feet. She had her long hair tied back in a loose pony tail; her hair wasn't really that dark; more of a golden brown, with blond strands running through it, and she had big, expressive, honey-colored eyes with thick, raven lashes, and her lips were....oh my God....her lips were ruby red, and FULL, thick, moist.

That very first time that I saw her, I almost died, because.....I was looking at my dream woman....my perfect fantasy....the one that made my heart explode when I thought of her. Now I was seeing her in the flesh, and I didn't know what to do with myself. So....I walked up to her, and introduced myself to her, and asked her name. That was dumb. I recognized her voice when she spoke. Then, I turned red, and left, while the rest of the track team started to laugh. Typical, they said; I was a dumb blond. But she didn't laugh. I noticed that. Just that one gesture; she didn't laugh at me, it made me her slave for life.

She is so smart; she wants to either be a journalist, or a teacher. She loves to read, she writes poetry, and she loves to run; hence the track team. She would make a great cheerleader if she didn't hate them so much. She has lots of guys after her, and she dates some of them. She is popular in an outside sense; she doesn't belong to any group, and she's sort of a loner. Her beauty makes her popular, but she doesn't like that, so she doesn't have many friends, just the ones that she grew up with. Then, she has me.

I just turned into a total fool from the very first time that I saw her. I couldn't help myself, and I just started following her around everywhere like a lost puppy. Oh, of course everyone noticed, and it actually became more of a joke than anything else. I was already too popular to be ostrasized by what was my brazenly open lesbian behavior towards her. Too many people liked me, so that my conduct was received more with amusement than anything else. I went through heaven, and earth to get into all of her classes, and everyone actually let me sit NEXT to her. She was so mad at everyone at first, because it actually seemed that the entire school was out to make her my girlfriend. Now that I look back, that is exactly what happened; the whole student population put her in my arms.

At first she avoided me like the plague. She resented me for years of my taunting, and teasing, and humiliating her mercilessly. I apologized several times for that to her, then I simply went back into my lovesick, stalker atitude, following her all the way to the front door of her house. All of my teachers kept sitting me next to her, and making her my partner on class projects. Oh....I forgot....her mom actually adores me. I know, I know.....it all just seems to good to be true.

Her mom is a liberal, very open minded, and well.....also a lesbian like me. My girl was heterosexual, at least she seemed to be. Well.....um....she was.....but I pestered her SO much.....I guess I turned her. I mean, at first, my doll just couldn't stand me, but she just couldn't be anywhere that I wasn't. As for school, and homework, since I sat right next to her, and lived close by, I was the best choice to do homework with, to go to the library with. Since I'm a cheerleader, and in pretty good shape, I was the best candidate to go running with her. Since she had no choice but to talk to me, she found out that we actually like a lot of the same stuff; like reading, like movies, going to the beach, cooking, running.

I gave her flowers, and bought her bags of Hershey kisses. I wrote her sappy poetry, and read it to her in the cafeteria, and got applauded by everyone. I called her every night when she was at home. Heck.....I even climbed into her room through her window. I pestered her, I argued with her constantly over why she should be my girlfriend. I just used a very old method to win my girl; I literally bothered the hell out of her, until she just was so tired of me, that she said yes to me.

I think that I fainted the night that she said yes, when I asked her to go steady with me. She was laughing when I woke up on her couch. After so many years of a frustrating, exasperating relationship with her, I finally got her into my arms; my ugly duckling turned ravishing, stunningly beautiful princess.

My girl is so beautiful, that she takes my breath away. But her inner beauty is so much deeper, and that is what calls me to her the most. Lately, our lives have become even more entwined; her mom has fallen in love with my dad. Okay, her mom is a lesbian.....but she just loves my dad, and the two of them are engaged. My girl, and her mom have moved in with my dad, and me. My girl has her own room of course, and we share a bathroom. Actually, my girl has her own room, her own bed which she shares with me because I simply moved in with her. Step sisters and lovers, that's what we are; it seems like some television series to me. To me, its just simply heaven.

To sort of maintain some kind of facade, my girl is dating the star pitcher of the baseball team, and I still have my football babe to date. We do it for the looks, although everyone knows the truth, but no one cares; we make a fantastic looking clique.

Like I said before; I just don't get the social attitude about being blond; that it makes you godlike or something. I feel very ordinary, here inside this blond head. But being blond didn't get me my girl. Being smart did. Still, it is hard sometimes, when I used to worry about my looks; if I got fat, or ugly. Now, I don't worry; no more anorexia, or bulimia. My girl wants me no matter how good, or how bad I look.

It's a really interesting, exciting feeling; finally having someone who wants me no matter what. Before, everyone wanted me because of my looks. Now, I can actually go without bathing for days, my hair can be as greasy as a frying pan, I can smell like newly laid cow shit, and my girl still wants me. I can even turn into a couch potato, and my dream girl will still love me forever.

Just one, minor little setback in my life; I will never be crowned home-coming queen because of my sexual preference; that came from the faculty, not the students. I don't care. I'm already a queen inside my girl's heart. I already have my throne......in her arms.

It seems like I've babbled enough. I have my dream come true; my ravishing brunette, my wonderful wife with me forever. Well I should just end it here. I have so many plans; college, then a job, a house, kids. All of them with my brunette.

I was thinking of dyeing my hair brown, just to see how it feels being a brunette. But my girl went ballistic when I told her that I wanted to darken my hair. No, she said she loves blonds....me most of all, her own blond.

So there. That's all of it. For the first time in my life I actually like being blond, and I love my life. Most of all.....I love my brunette.