mY TOY ROBOTS HAVE BEEN my weiner's greatest enemy

There came a time when I was thirteen back in '87 that I had to make the same decision every boy made when they realized there was more to life than toy robots. I had to decide between boobs and Optimus Prime. But unlike every other normal teenage boy in the universe I made a concious decision that I would probably be more successful with toy robots than girls anyways so I picked toy robots. I told myself that no matter how strong the draw towards the dark side, I would continue to keep the Dinobots and their friends as my number one priority. As I expected, toy robots became the most powerful chastity pledge I ever took. It is only fitting that Transformers demands celibacy, just as the Catholic faith requires priests to be celibate. Based on my track record with girls in high school, I must have been the Pope of toy robots.

As I got into my teenage years I found it rather comforting to at least have a reason why I shouldn't try to go on dates or talk to girls. It was a convenient scapegoat for why I never got any in high school. The real reason was that I was a totally socially inept dorky nerd but blaming my total lack of interaction with girls on my toy robots hobby gave me a measure of control over the situation in my mind at least. I thought that were it not for the Dinobots I would be homecoming king or something, but alas I was too hardcore of a robot nerd and any hopes at a normal life would be dashed. I considered myself not asexual but robosexual. Robosexual is when you don't have any sex because you're into toy robots instead.

That scene in Pee-Wee's Big Adventure where he rejects the girl's advances with the line, "I'm a loner, Dottie, a rebel" captured perfectly the essence of my nerdy plight. Pee Wee was my not-getting-any idol, an inspiration in my martyr-like devotion to the roboplasticos. So that's how I got through high school, rejecting girls in favor of toy robots named Big Daddy. It's not like there were throngs of young teenage women throwing themselves at me, but I was prepared with a Pee-Wee like retort if that emergency ever came up. At the time I found the idea of my devotion to robots maybe costing me hot underage teenage sex extremely hardcore and even a bit tragically romantic but now all I can think is IDIOT! IDIOT! IDIOT!

There was this one girl that I was totally into who apparently had some sort of brain damage because she was very upfront and forward about being interested in me. But the robots got in the way and whenever we were around each other and she started making advances I would panic and retreat and try to think really hard about the Dinobots. Eventually she gave up but I still think about her and dream about her occasionally, which is what happened last night and is the reason for today's bloggerings. In my dreams I am normal and suave and debonair and not a toy robots nerd and my teenage years approximate 'normal' or at least they're really Dawson's Creeky.

I remember reading that firstborn children are statistically more prone to marrying their first love. I guess this girl was the first real crush I had and me bing a firstborn explains why I tend to fixate on her. I will keep telling myself that instead of considering the notion that I made a huge mistake by leaving home in search of adventures and my life is now derailed onto some bizarro world, alternate reality tangent that it never should have became. At the very least I am consoled by an issue of Barley Legal magazine that came out a couple years back where there's pictures of a girl that looks exactly like that girl in high school as I remember her. At least I don't have to imagine what I missed out on thanks to porn. It's weird but I guess masturbation therapy helps me cope with the choices I made in my life. I rejected boobs for you, Optimus Prime! I want you to know that!