Dear Mom and Dad,
Hello from Camp Gifford! How are you? I am fine. Camp is OK. The food is bad and the bugs suck.
Oh, also, I for sure started having sex here.
Sorry to drop that bomb but you must have known that would happen, right? I mean, you put me in the woods with 17-year-olds as my only supervision. And camp counselors aren’t just any 17-year-olds. They could be volunteering for a political campaign or taking SAT prep courses but instead they chose to spend their summer teaching improv classes and basket-weaving to other children. Their resumes literally mean nothing to them. These are the incarnate Great Walls you thought would come between me and the barbarian onslaught of equally horny, very cunning teenage boys?
On some level, you must have known I’d be banging like cray. Every single kid here is a hot human soup of hormones and sweat. I’m ready to go all. the. time. I’m eating a sloppy joe, cutting my toenails, playing capture the flag and all I can think about is kissing and groping and just hot breath all over my body, it’s insane. I’d walk through literal, burning hell if a cute guy told me to.
I mean, what was your thought process on this? In March you took away my phone because you thought I was texting Jacob Greeson too much. At what point after that were you were like, “I know, let’s put her in the idyllic countryside, surrounded by animal pheromones and other secreting teenagers. Might seem like a recipe for sex casserole BUT there’s a lake between her and dozens of equally horned-up adolescent male fuck machines. That lake will preserve her virginity!” You guys really deluded yourselves very hard on that one. ‘Cause guess what: That lake is real small and I know how to swim real good.
OK, OK, sorry. Enough with the sex stuff. We ARE doing other things here. For example, yesterday we made tie-dye T-shirts! Then a few hours later I lost it in the woods when I TOOK IT OFF TO HAVE SEX. I LIED! WE’RE NOT DOING SHIT ELSE BESIDES HOOKING UP LIKE IT’S PARIS, 1940, AND WE DON’T KNOW WHAT THE FUTURE HOLDS. JESUS CHRIST, WE ARE 14 YOU THINK I GIVE A FUCK ABOUT THE MIRACLE OF TIE-DYE? Please, every “activity” here is just a break to hydrate and get horny again. Come August, when I hand you a basket I wove full of plastic lanyards I made, know that I made them all while plotting where and when I would next put out for my creepy, dorky little camp boyfriend, R.J.
So yeah, camp is great. Thanks for spending $3,000 so I could finally lose it with the total peace of mind that I won’t get caught by you. Oh, and don’t even ask. I will not introduce you to R.J. (my camp boyf). But you’ll know who he is. He’ll be the nondescript 15-year-old I will hug a liiiiittle too long on pick-up day. When I pull away from said hug, his mesh gym shorts will clearly betray a fresh boner which you will blot out from your memory. Just please do not suggest he visit over winter break. It’s not that serious.
Talk to you guys later!