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It has come to my attention that there is no longer an NBK series going on at Sparknotes. There isn’t one on the main thread and those Sparklers who had bravely forged ahead with their NBK adventures have poofed.

 

Cue me.

 

Yes, the awkward Ninja hiding in the corner. That’s me. *stands up* I am eighteen years old, going into my sophomore year at college and I am NBK. Whether that’s a good or a bad thing, I haven’t quite decided yet. As of now, however, it’s a good thing, because there is no NBK series and I’m NBK. Hopefully, you’re following me by this point. If you’re not, then, you must not be a Sparkler, because you Sparklebutts are on the intelligent side of life.

 

So, I present to you, NBOT: A New NBK Series. “What is this new acronym?” you ask. “NBK stands for Never Been Kissed, but what the heck is this new cluster of letters that Ninjas is pulling out?” The answer to your question, dear Sparkler, is simple.

 

NBOT stands for Never Been Out There. I came up with it because when I read through the old NBK posts, it wasn’t just about getting your first kiss. It was about getting Out There, out in the real world, out of your comfort zone, outside of the house meeting new people and trying new things. While finding a great guy in my sophomore year would be fantastic—and kissing him would probably be akin to finding all of my college textbooks for free—my goal for this school year is to step outside my comfort zone and get Out There. Because guys, I’ve never been Out There and I think it’s high time I changed that.

 

So first thing’s first. You should probably know who I am, as well as some background information about everything. However, while you may know me as Ninjas, and if you frequent the OT, you might even know my real name—breach of Internet protocol, I know—due to the “I’m terrified my friends might discover this string of posts and recognize me, thus prompting either a ridiculous amount of hating and/or compliments on my ballsy-ness to do such a thing and either way I’d like to avoid the whole situation” syndrome I suffer from, I shall henceforth be known as Anne in these adventures.

 

So, I’m Anne, and I attend Tiny Midwestern University (or TMU). It’s my sophomore year, as I stated before, and I live with my parents because we live within an hour of the campus. I commute to school in my tiny pickup truck that has a tendency to leave me stranded in the middle of nowhere with a smoking engine. I’m studying for a dual degree in Political Science and French, still have absolutely no idea as to what I’m going to do with my life and I work at a sandwich shop that I shall call “Sandwich Place” in the name of not dissing one’s job in a public blog. My extracurricular activities are the debate team and….the debate team. Yep. THIS IS WHY I HAVE NBOT; TO SHOW YOU WHAT HAPPENS TO DEBATE NERDS. Just kidding. Kind of.

 

So that’s all you need to know to hear about my first week back at college. Now you get to hear how I just got Out There and kicked ass as an extroverted popular cheerleader of a girl.

 

You’re laughing at this point. I am too. I met all of zero new people in my first week back. Of course, I’m going to wear my TARDIS shirt next week, so that will obviously attract multiple people towards me. The thing is like a magnet.

 

Speaking of shirts, that leads me to the very first NBK story I get to tell. Nothing exciting; just some [flirtatious?] banter with my friend Mark. Mark’s on my team—yeah, I told you I’m hopeless at meeting new people—and he is the team player. No, not like he supports the team. Like he’s a player and he’s on the team. Surprisingly, he’s quite smooth with the ladies, and I’m not being sarcastic.

 

“Hey girl!” He said, as I came into the lounge. (Our team has a room at school with a table and chairs and all our trophies. It’s like the debate team’s locker room. It’s the place where we all hang out AKA avoid people.) “Come over.” he gestured with his hand over to next to him. I’m pretty good at interpreting signals, and I just had a feeling he was going to do something like put his arm around me or something like that. So, of course, I freeze.

 

“Girl. Get over here.”

 

“NO.” I said, adamantly.

 

“YOU HAVE HAIR IN YOUR FACE,” he shouted back, and walked over with his hand outstretched, reaching to push my bangs out of my face. I had artfully arranged my bangs so that they provided ample eye hiding space.

 

“DON’T TOUCH ME MARK.” I said, but he kept coming towards me. I flicked my hair out of my face, finally and the horrible possibility of human contact stopped.

 

“There we go, Annie,” he said, still coming dangerously close to me. I like Mark, don’t get me wrong, but he’s not my type and I’m not his. (I have a brain, I’m a red head and I don’t get wasted and end up at his fraternity house on Friday night.) This sudden rush of physical affection bothered me, and not just because I hate touching people.

 

“Let’s talk,” he said, suddenly. He was staring at my chest. Whoa bro! But then I realized he was looking at my t-shirt. “I’M A LIBRARIAN. LET’S TALK.” (It was a souvenir from a past job.)

 

“Whatcha wanna talk about?” I asked, scooting away from him. He just kept coming nearer, though, and soon I was going to be blocked in the corner of the room.

 

“You tell me; you’re the one with the shirt. You know, I’d like to see you go downtown and pick up a guy with that shirt.”

 

“What’d be wrong with that?” I countered, trying to move around him.

 

“Nothing at all,” but he was laughing at me and I was glaring at him. “I went out with a girl from the library once.”

 

“Not surprised,” I said, sarcastically, because he’s picked up half the girls on campus.

 

“Come on, baby girl”—at this point I rolled my eyes because ‘BABY GIRL’? REALLY?—“If I met a girl downtown with that shirt on and she started talking smart librarian sh*t I’d be really impressed. Even if that’s not the type of girl I go for.”

 

“Again,” I bit out, “Not surprised.”

 

He came closer and I have no idea what would have happened because we suddenly heard raucous laughter from the office next to the lounge.

 

Our coach had heard the entire conversation.

 

Ready for Annie’s next adventure? What do you think of the NBOT acronym? And what should we think about Mark? 

Topics: Life

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