Short story

If There Were Hot Girls Playing Beach Volleyball I’d Be the Only One Looking At The Ball

I just remembered a conversation I had in my junior highschool year. The following is an actual conversation I had at one time.

I was in Anthropology and Sociology class, where we were discussing sexuality in the media. As an example of explicit sexuality in public my teacher mentioned a giant picture of a woman in underwear that apparently hung vividly in Yorkdale Mall, a mall near where I lived.

“And think about that giant Victoria’s Secret poster! There is nobody who’s never seen it.” She said. The class  nodded in agreement. I, however, raised my hand.

“Yes Refkan?” she said.

“What picture?” I said.

“The giant Victoria’s Secret picture in Yorkdale,” She said.

“What picture in Yorkdale?” I asked again.

“The Victoria’s Secret one.” she said.

“Who’s Victoria Secret?” I said.

“Seriously?” the boy in front of me said, “You don’t know Victoria’s Secret?”

“No, what’s her secret?”

“It’s the store that sells Lingerie!” he said.



“I don’t know what that is.”

“Cory? You’ve never been to Victoria’s Secret?”

“You don’t know that giant picture? That big-ass poster of a woman in underwear in Yorkdale?”

I didn’t notice it. Up to today I still don’t notice a giant picture of a girl in her underwear. I see them, yes, but I subconsciously ignore them, usually because my mind is busy with other more important things, like designing cool looking robots, or finding a way to make ice cream last longer without getting tiny ice crystals in it. If there were a bunch of hot girls playing on a volleyball on a beach I’d be looking at the ball and keeping score. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, it’s not that I’m not attracted to hot girls, but I don’t respond to things my friends do. I am weird and I find it hilarious.


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