alpaca princess (renniekins) wrote,
alpaca princess

My Mentee

A year ago, I joined a mentoring program. It's with a Women in Technology program, and I volunteered to mentor a young woman just starting out in the technology field. Thus I was hooked up with L, a smart and adorable 21-year-old college student. We've been meeting monthly. We talk about resumes, interviews, careers, benefits. I tell her some of my horror stories and real world experience, while she tells me about her classes and internships.

We get a little off-track sometimes too, because we've found that we get along well. (Definitely a good thing!) We talk about boyfriends, books, hair-care, friends, food, and drinks. Yesterday when we met over pizza, we discussed personal grooming (waxing and clippers and shaving). She has a part-time job at a fancy salon, so has all kinds of tips and info. She was impressed with my no-wax-required eyebrows, and I was intrigued by the idea of waxing other body parts.

We then discussed getting physical with men, how we like to be kissed. Then we alluded vaguely to other ways of being physical, and how to tell a boy something you like. I mentioned a particular trick I'd shown to a boy once, and how he had exclaimed afterward, "Oh you little minx!", and it warmed my heart and made me grin out loud.

At one point, when discussing whether it was okay to compare somebody you're with now to somebody you were with in the past, we had a complex metaphor comparing boys to pizza. "It's just natural," I said. "As long as you don't allow it to harm him, you can't help comparing your present situation with your past. It's like... this pizza. It's good pizza, but naturally my mind will sometimes think about other pizzas I've had. Good qualities, bad qualities. It's just how minds work, they make connections within their world."

"Like this pizza might be smaller," she suggested.

"Yes, but maybe thicker."

"Or the toppings might be more interesting."

"Or it might...", and I covered my face with shame, "...the sauce might be different."

We were silenced for a bit by helpless giggles. Then she raised her finger. "Dear Mentoring Program," she pretended to quote. "We had an enlightening mentoring meeting this month..."

I giggled some more. "Oh dear, thank goodness they don't expect us to take notes! Let's see, we talked about waxing..."

"...personal grooming!"

"! I'm sure we talked about careers in there.... somewhere. Maybe. Well, there's always next time."

"The interview questions we did last time we helpful. We can always give that to them if they ask for proof that we've been mentoring."

"Did you see I emailed the coordinator, and let her know that we'd like to be matched up again this year?"

"Yes. And if they won't let us, we'll stage a rebellion and ment one another anyway. I wonder what they'll think of that, seriously?"

"Well I expect they'll be pleased the match went well. I bet we're doing better than all the other matches. I bet we totally won."

"Just so long as we don't admit to the personal grooming conversations...."
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