Pamela Ribon - Notes to Boys: And Other Things I Shouldnt Share in Public

Praise for Notes to Boys

One of The Hairpins 15 books to read now

A Hello Giggles Item of the Day

what makes the book so good is that grown-up Pam has enormous affection for Little Pam, who is, like a little sister, horribly embarrassing on the one hand and a fiercely protected loved one on the other. Its a collection of embarrassing stories and mortifying notes, yes, but its also a pretty deeply felt memoir about her introduction to boys and sex and, perhaps most painfully, learning when not to tell people how you feel.

Linda Holmes , NPRs Monkey See and Pop Culture Happy Hour

I enjoyed the book, and I rooted for [Little Pam]hang around for the payoff.

Tiffany Turpin Johnson, LitReactor

Praise for Pamela Ribon

Ribons steadfastness in this characters lack of likability is admirable. She never panders by making Smidge somehow have some kind of epiphany of character simply because she is dying. Ribon is unwavering in what she shows us of Smidge and the novel is the better for it.

Roxane Gay, author of Hunger and Bad Feminist

a book with all the elements I love: best friends, found families, Ribons trademark humor and vivid writing. (The description of Smidges cancerous cough is heart-stopping.)

Jennifer Weiner, author of Good In Bed and Who Do You Love

Hilarity and heartbreak compete, but ultimately hope wins in this thoroughly delightful story about what it means to be a woman, a mother, a best friend. I cant wait to pass this book along to every woman who ever mattered to me. Pamela Ribon has a huge, fresh voice, and this is her best book yet.

Joshilyn Jackson, New York Times bestselling author of
Gods in Alabama and A Grown-Up Kind of Pretty

You Take It From Here islike a planetarium, where what matters is the feeling of the wholeYou get to the endand you have that sense that youve heard a whole story that seemed to be about skin-and-bones people, to the point where part of you is still worrying about them, like theyre phantom limbs.

Linda Holmes, NPR

Dont let the coverfool youthe story that unfolds is anything but just another chick lit beach read. Ribon has undoubtedly made you laugh in the pastbut with You Take It From Here she will make you cry. Buckets.

Danielle Turchiano, author of
My Life, Made Possible By Pop Culture

One of those rare books where the characters feel like your best friends from the first page. Youll laugh and cry as Pamela Ribon takes you on a colorful, rich, and unforgettable journey of friendship.

Kristin Harmel, author of The Sweetness of Forgetting

Also by Pamela Ribon

Slam!

You Take It From Here

Going In Circles

Why Moms are Weird

Why Girls are Weird

This is a Genuine Rare Bird Book

A Rare Bird Book | Rare Bird Books
453 South Spring Street, Suite 302
Los Angeles, CA 90013
rarebirdbooks.com

Copyright 2017 by Pamela Ribon

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever, including but not limited to print, audio, and electronic. For more information, address:
Rare Bird Books | Rare Bird Books Subsidiary Rights Department,
453 South Spring Street, Suite 302, Los Angeles, CA 90013.

Set in Minion

epub isbn: 9781940207322

Publishers Cataloging-in-Publication data

Ribon, Pamela.
Notes to boys (and other things I shouldnt share in public) : a mortifying memoir / by Pamela Ribon.p. cm.
ISBN 978-1940207056

1. Ribon, Pamela. 2. Ribon, PamelaHumor. 3. First loves. 4. High school girlsBiography. 5. High school studentsUnited StatesBiography. 6. AdolescenceAnecdotes. I. Title.

CT275 .R528 2014
305.235/092dc23

For my daughter.

May she love with all her heart.

And for my husband.

Hes gonna keep her heart protected.

With, like, a secret knife.

And a big dog.

I want to be with you now, right NOW, right NOW, right NOW, right now, now, now, now.

Edie Brickell & New Bohemians, Now

I know someday youll have a beautiful life, I know youll be the sunin somebody elses sky, but why-hyy, whyyyyhyyy, WHYYYYYHYYYY AH-Cant it be, ah-Cant it beeeeEEEeeeEEeeeEEEE MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIAAAAAIAAAAAIIIIIIII-AHHHIIGH-HINE?!

Pearl Jam, Black

Contents

Share With Me Your Soul (The Heartbreak of
Homeroom Boy)

Love Means Never Having to Say Anything:
Silent Skateboarder Boy

[This letter was defaced by boys in class.
Their notes are in bold.]

Going Down, But Not Necessarily Understanding the
Mechanics of Such a Term

I am Pretty Sure I Sent This in to at Least One College
Application, Which Means I May Have Sent This to Yale.

Sometimes You Just Need
a Boy in a Crane Pose

Introduction

L ets start with one of my first ridiculous moments in love: the night I forced my crush to watch Broadcast News with me.

I suppose technically he watched it while I watched him watching itmy eyes wide and mouth ready for the kiss I knew hed give me as soon as he figured out that I was Albert Brooks and hehewas my Holly Hunter.

This is where I should probably tell you that I was thirteen years old.

Needless to say, he didnt catch the subtext. During the moment when Albert Brooks tells Holly Hunter he wishes she were two peopleSo I could call up the one whos my friend and tell her about the one I love so much.my young soul mate spooned cookies and cream ice cream into the crook of his bare knee and remarked, Heh-heh. If I spread my leg apart like this it looks like a butt with poops.

But my heart knew we were destined to be. Even the chance to watch this romantic comedy together was a miracle that I assumed was part of our destinyI had just moved away, several states over, to a small, rural town in Texas, and for reasons Ill never understand, both of our parents allowed this visit. He flew to my house. On a plane. He arrived at baggage claim wearing a navy blue Late Night with David Letterman T-shirt. I know you dont need to know that, but you should know that I know that because it speaks to how important this was to me.

We only had a couple of days togethermere hours! This meant I needed him to make a move and make it soon if we were going to be young lovers running through the streets. So I took him to the most romantic place I knew. I took him to Six Flags.

Id always wanted to be that tanned and sweaty girl in an endless line for a roller coaster. Shes wearing a flimsy spaghetti-strap top and tiny shorts as she sits on the handrail that divides the lines into rigid sections. Shes chewing gum, or maybe just letting it stretch across her tongue as she rests her dewy cheek against the strong, muscled shoulder of her boyfriend. I wanted one of those middle-distance staring, metal band T-shirt wearing, floppy-haired, unfortunate-skinned boyfriends. Hes the one standing in the space between her parted knees. Hes the one holding her weary body up as they wait for a thrill ride.

I craved that moment with a boy, our sweat-soaked love the only thing keeping us from sudden heatstroke.

But during our two-hour wait for a sixty-second coaster, my Holly Hunter only used the handrails to show me how he would skate them if he had his board. His only proclamations of love were to say, For the love of fucking shit, why is Texas as hot as the surface of the sun?