Nowadays we call hooking up “booty calls” and refer to casual sexual partners as “friends with benefits”. It’s mutual, consensual and refers to both partners in the equation. This phrase “practice girl” harkens back to something older, uglier and meaner—the kind of girl you fuck but not one you marry.
Poor Jo has never heard these phrases. So you can understand her hurt, confusion and rage when she overhears “practice girl” being used to refer to herself.
Jo leaps into the sexual part of her relationships and there’s nothing wrong with that. But it does make her an easy target for neglectful, horny boys, ones who don’t want anything more out of her than tussling in the sheets. She can’t seem to pick on decent males or hold back when her own gonads are jumping.
Yet the story takes us past her sexual hijinks to focus on her growing understanding of how others see her. “Practice girl” makes her feel disposable. Then it makes her angry. We can foresee that she’s going to go through trials to understand this label, to free herself from it and attack others who stick her with it.
The author has done a splendid job of putting us in Jo’s POV. Her nervousness after sex, her wry observations about the boys around her and her awkwardness at not fitting in around her old girlfriend and her new ex are exquisitely laid out so that we experience her anxiety and crushing emotions of loneliness. At a party, she imagines she’s misread the signals Ty sent her at their post-coital conversation…only to realize that he’s already dismissed her in his mind and moved on to another girl. We experience Jo’s stunned disbelief, her misery, her attempts to battle back fury and the urge to weep.
Part of the problem is Jo’s youth. Jo is really young, only 17, and she shouldn’t be thinking about true love, the kind that lasts forever and starts with staring at the stars and ends with sharing small talk in bed. Then again, at that age, lots of girls obsess about that singular emotion. We might have the vote, women’s lib and gaining on getting equal pay in the workplace. But the yearning for emotional connection is one that crops up no matter what the generation, it seems.
Her emotions are intense and her expectations are high…too high. She shouldn’t hope for better from boys who are at that age but she can’t help it. She’s an assistant on a wrestling team and thinks that means the boys afford her the same respect she gives them. It’s a sad lesson to learn otherwise.
Ms. Laure assures the readers that this isn’t about Jo’s trauma but her self-examination. It’s difficult to see that in these initial paragraphs. But Jo’s perseverance, her presence in a male-dominated sport and devotion to her late father all hint at an unusual resilience that may shine in later chapters. What we’ve got so far is promising. Let’s see what this tough girl can do.
Poor Jo has never heard these phrases. So you can understand her hurt, confusion and rage when she overhears “practice girl” being used to refer to herself.
Jo leaps into the sexual part of her relationships and there’s nothing wrong with that. But it does make her an easy target for neglectful, horny boys, ones who don’t want anything more out of her than tussling in the sheets. She can’t seem to pick on decent males or hold back when her own gonads are jumping.
Yet the story takes us past her sexual hijinks to focus on her growing understanding of how others see her. “Practice girl” makes her feel disposable. Then it makes her angry. We can foresee that she’s going to go through trials to understand this label, to free herself from it and attack others who stick her with it.
The author has done a splendid job of putting us in Jo’s POV. Her nervousness after sex, her wry observations about the boys around her and her awkwardness at not fitting in around her old girlfriend and her new ex are exquisitely laid out so that we experience her anxiety and crushing emotions of loneliness. At a party, she imagines she’s misread the signals Ty sent her at their post-coital conversation…only to realize that he’s already dismissed her in his mind and moved on to another girl. We experience Jo’s stunned disbelief, her misery, her attempts to battle back fury and the urge to weep.
Part of the problem is Jo’s youth. Jo is really young, only 17, and she shouldn’t be thinking about true love, the kind that lasts forever and starts with staring at the stars and ends with sharing small talk in bed. Then again, at that age, lots of girls obsess about that singular emotion. We might have the vote, women’s lib and gaining on getting equal pay in the workplace. But the yearning for emotional connection is one that crops up no matter what the generation, it seems.
Her emotions are intense and her expectations are high…too high. She shouldn’t hope for better from boys who are at that age but she can’t help it. She’s an assistant on a wrestling team and thinks that means the boys afford her the same respect she gives them. It’s a sad lesson to learn otherwise.
Ms. Laure assures the readers that this isn’t about Jo’s trauma but her self-examination. It’s difficult to see that in these initial paragraphs. But Jo’s perseverance, her presence in a male-dominated sport and devotion to her late father all hint at an unusual resilience that may shine in later chapters. What we’ve got so far is promising. Let’s see what this tough girl can do.