First of all, bless you. I don't know how you manage to get past his weirdness to see his good, strong, sweet soul, but bless you. My son thinks you're pretty cool, especially when you show an interest in his Lego collection.
Second of all, I know it's hard being a girl in this day and age. You are growing up on the world stage thanks to Facebook and other social media, and you are being taught by the grownups around you (who are probably currently glued to Honey Boo Boo's Eighth Grade Dance) that you can be famous by being an over-the-top version of yourself. Worse, you can be used by grownups as an example of all that is wrong in the world, when the truth is, you COULD be an example of what is really right in the world.
You might not know this, but I monitor Jeffrey's interaction on the internet. I've done it since 6th grade, when I watched anxiously over his shoulder as he made comments on Edmodo. He isn't really good at saying the right thing, sometimes. I'm sure you know this. So I keep a close eye on him. That means that I go on his account and check out his friends and what they post. FYI, y'all have potty mouths. Also, you really need to learn the difference between "your" and "you're" before I go crazy. GAH.
Anyway, the fact that you love him enough to be his friend says a lot about you. It says more about you than those goofy pictures you post when you're wearing your pajamas and dorking out in your room. The fact that you love my boy and are willing to share your intelligent, spunky, cheerful self with him means enough to me that I will look past the fact that you are acting like a dork online and trying to be sexy. Bless your heart, you look ridiculous, but I won't collapse your entire self into a grainy cell phone selfie you shot during a sleepover anymore than I would collapse my entire self into the grainy debate tournament pictures I have stuffed in a trunk somewhere. (No, I won't show them to you, mainly because my spiral perm is really too much to take.) (But also because I'm smoking cigarettes in them and may or may not be acting flirtatious with various cute, smart guys.)
I will say this: I worry about you. I worry about you because you are my son's friend and I love you and I know you are dating that jerk. I worry that if you break up with that jerk, he might use those pictures against you, because Photoshop is an awful tool in the hands of a boy with an agenda. I worry that some pervert will scoop those pictures up and be gross with them, even if all they show is a girl wrapped up in a towel, showing less than you did when you were at the pool playing chicken fight with the gang the other day. Perverts suck, and they're good at twisting the intentions of the innocent.
What I don't worry about is that my son will think of you naked when he sees those pictures. I mean, don't take this the wrong way, and I know it will probably sound creepy, but he probably has already thought of you naked. He's a fifteen year old boy, my love. He's thought of most people on the planet naked. (Also, since I was once a fifteen year old girl, I'm pretty sure you've thought of him naked, too.)
I know, this is GROSS to even consider: Jeffrey's mom thinking about him thinking about you naked. Moms do weird things when they think about their kids growing up and their place in the world. We're pretty much the weirdest things on the planet, moms. But I want you to understand something: I will NEVER place Jeffrey's responsibility to be a decent and good man on you. I will NEVER ask you to be different than the person you are in order for my son to turn out right. I will never hold you to a standard of absolute purity when I am certain my son is not absolutely pure. (Yeah, we all heard about that party and that closet. I turned a few shades of green when I did, but I thought of those parties back in my high school days and tried not to wig out. Rest assured that the Mom's Club drank a few cocktails over that closet, honey.)
My point is, sweetie, you are a great girl. You make good grades, you love our stinky old dog, and you bring sunshine into our house. Your Facebook pictures are ridiculous, but placed against the value of your heart and spirit and friendship, they mean nothing.
Thanks for being my son's friend. You are ALWAYS welcome in my home and heart, no matter how you choose to represent yourself on the interwebs.
*This is in response to this post that is making the rounds on FB, and which strikes me as placing entirely too much responsibility on young women in regard to the integrity of young men. It also strikes me as creepy, but I could be overthinking it.*