I just finished reading Mortified, which I totally recommend. It's a collection of embarassing adolescent writings & photos with limited commentary by the writers' adult selves. There were moments that were truly horrifying - like, the diary of the guy who was obsessed with losing his virginity and talked in great detail about what he was going to do with all the hot girls in his school, aaaaaand then he finally encountered a vagina and had this to say:
It really isn't fair. It's like God made this smooth, perfect, flowing creature, and he named it woman. Then he spread her silken legs, took a harpoon, and rammed into her repeatedly. Not a nice little slit, to match the rest of her sleekness, no, a lipped, hairy thing that excretes liquids. And God, in his infinite wisdom, gave it an odor, and every man an intense desire to put part of his body inside this sloppy, floppy chasm . . . It's a shame that behind every beautiful girl and perfect body lies, hidden in between legs, under clothes, a lurker. The lurker is there, in all it's shaggy, wrinkled, smelly glory. And it waits . . . with every step it rubs its lips together in anticipation. I want it, but I don't like it.
Mostly it just proves that girls are desperate to fixate on their real or imagined love interests, and boys are just as fixated until they get what they want, and then they lose their minds.
I remember being 13 and feeling like a big, fat, ugly loser. And my grandparents were visiting from the midwest, and one night I was sitting around brooding in silent self-pity, and my grandmother out of nowhere told me, these are the best years of your life! I don't think I ever quite forgave her for that one.