I met a boy named Grant who was seventeen that I briefly dated the summer before I went into high school, when I was thirteen.
I would only hang out with Grant really, really late at night after my parents had gone to sleep. He was a real winner, seventeen years old, no car, and attempting to date an incoming freshman, DREAM BOAT! Anyways, my parents bedroom was downstairs, so he would come over and hang out with me in my room or the room adjacent to it.
One night at like 2:30a.m. my dad came up to randomly chow down on some cereal. I freaked out and so did Grant, which resulted in him locking himself in a room in my house. My dad then preceded to fall asleep on the couch. Grant refused to come out of the room at this point, and jumped out the window. The problem was that he left his shoes and backpack in my room, so he started talking to me from outside through a screen window.
My dog then heard loud voices and freaked out by barking. My mom woke up and told my dad that she thought someone was outside. I lost it and screamed at the top of my lungs "GRANT, RUN!" By this time my dad was outside, saw Grant, and began to run after him. Grant had no shoes on, jumped on his bike, and pedaled about 5 miles home in just socks.
Both my parents stormed back in and pulled a Chris Hanson, by telling me to take a seat. I was barraged with a multitude of questions, but the statement I will never forget was made by mom. She said to me, "YOU BETTER NOT BE FUCKING PREGNANT!" After I told them who Grant was, she called his home phone and left a couple of messages, one which went something like this, "Hi Grant, you little shit. I know you're there, you better fucking pick up." Grant's parents made him come over the next day and apologize.
I did not date anymore boys till I was about 16 and in my junior year of high school after that.