Hiding Boys in Bathrooms
A Decade of Dating Debacles
by
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We all remember that old saying, “Sweet sixteen and never been kissed.” Well, I was nineteen. Right, see previous references to being a latebloomer. Anywho, I know loads of people look back on that first kiss with fond nostalgia, as a magical and innocent rite of passage. “Ah, yes, summer vacation…ark took me on a drive to show me the lights of Konocti Harbor and then we kissed on that grassy knoll behind the cabins…I wonder whatever happened to Mark giggle girlishly, sigh wistfully. Others grimace and recoil with shame while recalling the painful awkwardness of it all. “Oh, God, it was so awful. We both had braces and then he completely slobbered all over me!” wretched gagging sounds to follow. And then there are those of us who can’t remember the kiss. Because we were, uh, slightly intoxicated. Well, ok, I remember it, but with a tinge of fuzziness. James lived on my dorm floor. He was a white guy from Seattle. I only mention that he was white because when he spoke, he sounded black. I know, weird, but apparently he had grown up in a black neighborhood. Close your eyes, and you’d swear you were talking to Smokey Robinson or one of the members of Bel Biv Devoe. When I did get close enough to actually converse with him, I didn’t mind. As you’ll later come to find out, I seem to have a thing for men with “accents.” Anyway, he had a soft sort of drawl and quite a body, witnessed by all when he walked around in his typical outfit of long basketball shorts and a white wifebeater. Oh, and get this, he liked me, or so everyone on my floor, girls and guys alike, would tell me. “Duuuude, he has a total crush on you! He thinks you’re totally hot!” What? Somebody thought I was hot? That was a first. As novel and flattering as that was, though, I was not about to let that go to my self-deprecating little head. Besides, I had zip romantic experience and the thought of anything ever happening completely freaked me out. Because then the ugly truth would be out that …I had no game. I was a no-gamer for sure. I mean what the hell would I ever do with a boy? I had no idea...
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About the Book
I was the poster child for someone who would attract and yes, date dysfunctional males. Send me your poor, emotionally and geographically unavailable, huddled masses, yearning for credit, co-dependency, or just yearning to break free (probably from prison). Yes, send them to me. I will pick up the pieces or end up in pieces trying to do so. Why this had become the norm for me, I still had yet to figure out. Giuliana’s thirties were mired by her boozy romantic debacles. From sociopath swindlers and drug addicts, to pothead-surfers and commitment phobes, she wondered why she always seemed to attract such types. Why was she the poster child for girls who dated dysfunctional guys? She certainly wasn’t purposely seeking these “winners” out? Or was she? Hiding Boys in Bathrooms reads with love, humor, and heartache, as you follow the romantic mishaps of a girl who seems to find love in all the wrong places.
About the Author
Giuliana Prada is a native of the San Francisco Bay Area. She is a teacher who has always loved writing. Her writing centers around her many travels abroad, as well as her interest in the relationships we have with each other and ourselves. She is the author of Love on the Rocks~ A Positano Tale.