I'm legal

I'm not sure if this story really qualifies as freaky because the male role is played by a teenager.  Aren't all teenage boys a little bit freaky?  I'm thinking this boy might qualify as a freak-in-training, so I'm going with it.

About a decade ago I was teaching high school.  I was 22 and teaching girls and boys just a few years younger than me.  I always lied about how old I was, and many of the kids believed me.  Some of them, though, were much savvier and knew that I'd just barely graduated from college and wasn't really too much their elder.

One of them was a boy we'll call Jimmy.  I'm going to be perfectly honest with you because I think that's only fair, but I'll only do that if you promise not to hold it against me.  If I had seen Jimmy outside of my classroom - like, say, in a club or something - I would never have known he was still a high school student.  He looked at least 22.  And if I'd seen him from across the club and thought he was 22 or older, I would have thought he was hot.

Jimmy was a good looking guy, definitely the kind of guy I would have been attracted to if I'd met him in a different context.  Well.  The kind of guy I would have been attracted to until he opened his mouth and I realized he was a teenager and in a completely different life stage than me.

Go ahead.  Make your Mary Kay Letourneau jokes.  Get them out of your system.  And then go back and read the last sentence of that previous paragraph.  Go on.  Let me help you interpret: Jimmy was a good looking kid who would have been attractive to me if he hadn't been in my class or a teenage boy.

Now that you've got the idea, picture this:
It's December, so we're about halfway through the year.  It's Jimmy's birthday.  He's 18.  

Jimmy walks into my classroom at lunch and hands me a slice of birthday cake.  My classroom was usually full of kids at lunch, so this is an unusual day, in the sense that Jimmy's the only student hanging out there. 

He starts talking to me.  He reminds me it's his birthday (as if that piece of cake hadn't been a good enough clue).  He tells me that he broke up with his girlfriend a couple days before.  They were both in my fifth period class, so I'd already suspected that - they'd been acting awfully strange around each other all week.  He talks and talks about nothing in particular.  Then,

Ms. Flypaper, it's my birthday today.

I know, Jimmy.  Happy Birthday!

Ms. Flypaper, I'm legal today.

Uh-oh.  Legal?  Does he mean what I think he means?  Nah.  He couldn't possibly.

Oh?  Yeah, Jimmy, you can vote now.  Be sure to do that - it's your civic duty.

No, Ms. Flypaper.  I'm legal.

Right.  I know.  You have to register for selective service.  It's the law, so do it soon.

Ms. Flypaper.  I'm LEGAL.

Oh crap!  He definitely means what I think he means.  I'm wracking my brain to figure out what else is legal when you turn 18.  And I can only think of one.

Jimmy, you know that smoking is bad for your health.  I hope you don't take up that nasty habit.

I've got nothing else.  If he says it one more time, I'm in BIG trouble.  I have no idea what I'm going to say.  I'm nervous and anxious.  I don't want to have this conversation.  I don't want to have to tell Jimmy that he's being inappropriate.  I want him to just figure it out for himself.  Call me passive-aggressive if you want.  I don't care.  I just don't want Jimmy to tell me he's legal again.  Please please don't tell me that, Jimmy.  Please?

(Clearly exasperated and with a deep sigh) Fine.  I'm going to celebrate my birthday with my friends.

Dodged a bullet.  SO dodged a bullet.
But Jimmy started skipping class a lot in the second semester.
I still feel like I failed him because of that.