Apparently I was a Slut

Tags

broken hearts, community, crushes, drama, girls, high school, humor, life, memories, rumors, school, slut, teenager

In fifth grade I was madly in love with a blonde hair blue eyed guy named Danny Smith, I actually thought he was related to John Smith and at the time I didn’t know the real story of Pocahontas so he was that much more attractive to me.  I never even talked to the boy; he was on another level… the bad boy, the kind you look at but your parents would never approve so you stay away.

One day my friend Sara found out about my crush, told him about it then dragged me from one end of the playground to the other.  It must have been a sight because I was fighting like my hair was on fire and she was dragging me down to the pits of hell.  She pulled me up to Danny and said “Tell her what you told me!”  He looked at me with wild blue eyes and simply said “Yes.”  It didn’t matter what he was saying yes to though; I didn’t believe for a moment that he was saying ‘yes I like you’ since he didn’t say that and she didn’t ask him with those words in front of my face, so I ran.  Danny got kicked out of school the same day; apparently he was more of a bad boy than even I thought.

***

A year or so later a boy named Ben asked me to be his girlfriend.  I wasn’t allowed to date and no matter what I was sure my parents would find out.  I preferred to fly under the radar, I really hate to disappoint people especially my parents.  I thanked him and told him no, maybe when I was sixteen if we still knew one another.  A month or so later I heard a rumor that I was dating Ben, but that we were keeping it a secret.  I confronted him about it and he admitted to telling the entire school, needless to say I was less than pleased and immediately stopped talking to him.  —-I wonder if he went to my high school. ——

 

***

Nick B was one of six major assholes in high school, he loved to play jokes on people and treated everyone like they were shit on his shoe; the funny thing was he wasn’t even remotely attractive so people just bent to him for no real reason.

One day Nick informed me that his friend Ralph liked me, Ralph stood next to him looking at the floor.  I didn’t believe Nick at all.  Ralph was quite, short, with olive skin, and his body was shapes… just shapes.  Maybe he hadn’t come into his skin, but he was someone I had never noticed before and have no idea when he stopped going to our school.  I didn’t react at all.  Ralph didn’t move.  After a little while Nick began laughing like a hyena and punched Ralph in the arm, “Dude you suck!” He said and walked away.

***

Finally there was Scott No Chance.

***

In college I shared a dorm with a girl named Wally, she and I had gone to high school together though we hadn’t known one another well since she was a year older than I and on the basketball team, while I was on the dance and soccer teams.  It wasn’t like there was a divide just no common interest, but we were cordial.

As time went on we hung out pretty often and I would drive her back home for major holidays.  One day we went to Applebees for lunch and she blurted out “I cannot believe I refused to talk to you in high school!”

I looked at her a little surprised; no one had ever admitted they actively avoided talking to me before.

“I don’t really understand why people would say what they said about you!”  She continued like I had any clue what the hell she was talking about.

I stared at her blankly, almost afraid to say anything for fear she would stop talking altogether and I would never know what they were saying about me.  I didn’t even know who they were.

“More people should have given you a chance and not listened to that drivel, since it is clearly untrue.”

“What’s untrue?”

“Wait, you don’t know?”

My face must have been devoid of color, I felt literally see-through… invisible… or exposed I wasn’t sure.  I said nothing.

“Everyone knew… or at least they thought they knew; you were the biggest slut in school!”

I was so shocked I wanted to laugh and then cry.  How many people believed this nonsense?  I had actually run away from guys that liked me, made them feel small, not purposefully just out of fear and lack of experience.  Every guy I had ever hurt flash in my mind.  I couldn’t believe that one of them could have started this rumor, how far back had it gone?  It seemed to me a better tactic to keep guys away would be to accuse me of being a prude, which I was so it wouldn’t have been an accusation it would have been the truth.  A truth I wasn’t proud of, I wasn’t ashamed of it either, just saddened by it.  When the only boy you have ever kissed at the age of 18 was one that forced you to kiss him at the age of four on the playground then lifted up your skirt for everyone to see your underoos you don’t really feel too special.

***

  (I was a kid)

Sometime later it was confirmed that most of the student body, (a bunch of my friends included) knew of the rumor and no one set it straight.

The source of the rumor was not in fact a boy I hurt, but a girl that was my best friend for over two years in high school.  I thought we had just grown apart, and I was fine with it.  I genuinely liked her as a person but then she became a drama geek.  I love acting, I loved drama, but the drama kids were…. DRAMA.  Having sex with one another, doing drugs, being assholes, just the type of people I didn’t want to be associated with and for that Chrissy started a rumor.  So here’s to Chrissy for pulling the wool over everyone’s eyes, may you get everything that’s coming to you.

Spain the First Time (part I)

Tags

aviation, education, family, high school, humor, life, memories, papers, Spain, transportation, travel

Junior year of high school I took Honors calculus with Mr. Fakeri, failing to recognize that I knew absolutely nothing about calculus, and I had been sliding through math classes pretty much by the Grace of God.   Fakeri had a heavy accent and I had no drive so when I got a D in the class I was broken hearted BUT I got a free pass because my parents are extremely bad at math, had it been any other class they would have locked me in the basement with very little food until my grades sky rocketed to the point of astronomical.

 

My best friend from highschool (who would be super pissed if I showed her photo), me and Nicc. Physics.

Senior year I had to retake calculus with a teacher whose head looked like it was filled with helium.  His body and head size were so disproportionate I couldn’t really understand how he stood up on his own (I am going to call him Mr. Booblehead because I have no idea what his real name was).  The class was majorly boring and I had a mad case of Senioritis by October.

My family (aka my parents) planned for us to travel to Europe over the break and into the beginning of the next semester.  Mom had me go to every teacher and explain that I would not be in school then get any and all course work my teachers deemed pertinent.  If you have never done this before and even if you have it is better to go back after the fact rather than prior to, teachers plan to be on concept Q by the time you return when in reality they are still on M.

I went to Mr. Booblehead and explained the situation.  He looked at his planner, then at my grade (a high B); he huffed and puffed then closed his books.  He looked me straight in the eye and said “I don’t like it.”

“I’m sorry sir?”  For a moment I thought he might be crazy.

“I don’t like it.  I think you shouldn’t go.”

WTF?

“We will be starting a new lesson plan, and I won’t know if you understand the concepts.”

“I will catch up.”

“I don’t think you should go.” And then I knew he was crazy.

“I am about 100% sure that my family is not canceling their trip so I “stay on track” and I know for sure they will not be leaving without me.  You can either assign me work to do, or I can have my Mom come talk to you.  Either way, we are still going.”

Mr. Booblehead did not like my response.  As if he could dictate what my family did or did not do, as a Senior year Calculus teacher with an inflated head and ego.  He ended up giving me four chapters worth of work and by the time I came back he wasn’t halfway through the first one, which made the burn of Senioritis that much stronger.

Scott No-Chance

Tags

chocolate, crushes, high school, humor, life, love, memories, missed opportunities, relationships

All throughout high school I was under the impression I was ugly, not just unattractive but ugly, and I know that I was not alone in that feeling, nor was I the first one to ever feel that they were unappealing in high school, but it is a fact and needed to be addressed.

So ugly me and my nonexistent boyfriend dominated the school in my mind, but not in reality; and while I was in my little bubble, boys did fall for me.  Though it was only two and one of them I am not actually sure he even liked me, but his friends said he did.

 

This is the story of Scott, a husky tan boy with razor sharp teeth that had the misfortune of meeting me.

While in history class one day I randomly decided to talk to him, I was just being friendly and I didn’t realize he had been harboring feelings for me for ages.  I honestly didn’t even know he existed before that point in time.  After that day I hardly said a word to him, he was strange and smelled very much like Clorox bleach.  One day I looked down at my backpack to see a large chocolate bar sitting on top of it, I looked at Scott and asked “Did you put this here?”

“No, it must have been the chocolate fairy.”

I glanced at him strangely and put the chocolate away.  When I told my family about it later no one could definitely say that Scott had given it to me, so there was potential for a different secret admirer and that was super cool.  From it my Dad dubbed Scott, Scott No-Chance, and forever and always that has been his name to me.

 

In late April Scott ran up to me over the top excited to give me a present.  “I wanted to give this to you for Valentine’s Day, but I didn’t have enough money.”  He pulled a bunny stuffed animal out of his backpack; it was white with pink ears, pink feet, a scratchy pink shirt, and pink sparkly eyes.  Freakiest fucking thing EVER; I thanked him and he ran away giggling like a school girl.  I took the bunny home and threw it in a cabinet where it couldn’t watch me as I was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that he had saved up his money to buy a surveillance camera that he fashioned into the eyes.  This theory was not helped by my bestfriend Jessica who said “Yes that is definitely buzzing.”

 

Scott and I lost touch, I am sure it was my fault.  I say these things judging myself from a distance and the horrible way in which I behaved, but I honestly believe I was a just chicken shit that didn’t know how to deal with the fact that others might not see me as I saw myself.

Niccole and I                                                                   Scott No-Chance Night.

Years later after the termination of my tremulous relationship with Fox; I met up with Scott, thanks to that wonderful invention facebook, and he was hot.  Well hello. We talked for hours about nothing and everything.  Niccole even looked at him like she might pounce on him if he was no longer feeling me, but he was.  He was.  He walked me to my car and I honestly have no idea how it even happened but we ended up kissing.  It was not a magical kiss, but that was more due to the fact that I hadn’t been in love with him in high school, (it was a really good kiss though).  Even his razor sharp teeth seemed more tame, he smelled like a guy not cleaning products and everything about him in that moment was perfect.

He brushed my hair away from my face, looked longingly into my eyes, like a man should look a lady and said “I can’t believe we are really going to give this a try!”

“What a try?”  I immediately felt sick.

“Us.”

Us, WTF I am just kissing you. Suddenly my romantic movie was turning into a romantic comedy where the guy just can’t seem to step away enough to keep the girl.

 

I hope he found the perfect girl.  He never did anything wrong.  I was just never ready for him.  Best wishes Scott No-Chance I hope the girl who possesses your heart deserves it this time.

Oh this isn’t a Car Wash? Did you just Steal my Car?

Tags

broke, car, college, first car, high school, humor, life, money

College (the first time) was probably the most broke – unfazed by how broke I was, I have ever been or will ever be.  As an adult being that broke, with a car payment, cell phone bill, electric bill so on and so forth it is much more stressful and completely unrewarding; cutting corners here and there chips away at the positive outlook I once possessed.  This is not about that, this is about happy broke time…

My first car was a white 92’ Nissan Sentra.  I bought it from my bestfriend’s family for $2500, with the help of my parents as I was 18 and actually had never seen that number in my bank account EVER, regardless of the fact that I worked at Blockbuster for over a year and a half at that point in time.  Within a week I named him Rocco (pronounced Rock-Oh), mainly because I thought it was funny to give such a large name to such a small automobile, but he certainly lived up to it.

Rocco was broken into… this is the only photo I could find while at work.

I used to take Rocco up a treacherous dirt mountain in Tucson every other week or so, my friends and I were determined to get up to the top but we wouldn’t leave early enough to just hike it.  Rocco never made it to the pinnacle, because once I got to a rock the size of my car I decided to bail out on the plan entirely.

Another time someone stole Rocco (mainly to show off, but I didn’t even know the guy), he jammed my car into drive, drove over a curb that veered up at a pretty sharp angle and popped out on the other side of another curb.  That maneuver scraped the bottom of my car pretty badly, and I just stood the gawking, panicking inside that the guy my friend Niccole and I had been talking to couldn’t control his friend.  The car robber squealed away down the street and I crumpled on the floor, my car was everything to me (at least in Tucson, my way of getting around and mainly of getting back home), and though I pushed him to his limits at times it was my car to do that with.  I was sure this guy was never coming back, or if he did Rocco would be in pieces.  A while later the car robber returned, he parked Rocco in front of me the engine still purring, not a scrap or a dent on him, just as he had been when the guy took off.  He turned off the car and handed me my keys, which he had torn out of my hands just twenty minutes prior.  I was enraged and almost heartbroken, in one movement he had built up a wall I never knew existed, and I hated him.  He apologized and I couldn’t say a word.  Niccole and I left without another remark to either guy.

***

I loved getting my car dirty, but I wouldn’t keep it dirty for long.  At the most Rocco would be soiled for a week but as money grew tight – then basically nonexistent I had to ignore how filthy dirty he would get on the outside until it began to affect the inside.  One day as I filled up my gas tank I decided to squeegee my windshield.  Somewhere between the realization I hardly had money for a half tank of gas and the utter filthiness of my pearly white Rocco I decided to squeegee off a bit of the dirt on the roof of my car.  The second the scrubber hit metal a voice boomed over the P.A. system “YOUNG LADY THIS IS NOT A CAR WASH.”

Mortifying because A. Obviously I knew it was not a car wash and B. I did not have enough money in this world to get a real car wash, yet my car needed one so badly I attempted to clean it with a squeegee.

***

For over a year I was the driver of the Nic(c)ole’s and myself, as one of them (Niccole) had nearly taken both of our lives in a rollover car accident (that was highly preventable), and the other Nicole did not have a car.  One Christmas Nicole’s parents bought her a brand new pale blue Honda Civic 04.  Understandably she was proud of her new car and wanted to show it off, but the way she explained her desire to drive her new wheels went something like this “Now we don’t have to drive around in your piece of shit car.”  Which was surprising to me because (no offense to those that own the HC04) it’s not that cute a car.  I was greatly offended, but I tried to brush it off as we piled into her car for a test drive.

Nicole began texting her boyfriend, while we drove down the street.  “Hey I can text for you if you want!”  I said, more demanding than requesting.

“No, I am saying some really inappropriate stuff.”

She ran a stop sign.

“Dude, I don’t care I will text for you.”

“No, I am good I can text and drive.”

“No, really you can’t, you just ran a stop sign.”

“I did?!  I thought that was a yield sign.”

“Either way Nicole you didn’t even slow down.”

She laughed while Niccole, in the back seat, pulled her knees to her face.  Only a few months prior was our accident which ended her up in a halo.  I gripped the side of the door tightly, trying not to panic.  Nicole typed away on her cell phone, continuing to tell me how great a driver she was when she blew through a stop light, and made a WILD left turn that had the other Niccole and I slammed into either passenger side door, holding onto it for dear life simultaneously trying to push with all our weight off of it for fear it might burst open.

Once safely on the other side I screamed “Nicole!”

She dropped her phone in her lap and gripped the wheel with both hands, to see no cars in front of us, she became instantly furious. “Why would you scare me like that?”

Niccole in back seat had her face buried in her hands and she looked like she was dry heaving.

“You just ran a red light, why would you scare us like that?!”  I screamed in a voice that was not my own.

She wrenched her body around, saw said stop light and giggled “I thought that was a stop sign.”

“What the fuck Nicole you didn’t even try to stop… at all, in any scenario.”

“Chill out, you are almost home.”

We never rode in her car again, I was quite happy with my “piece of shit car” that got me safely from point A to point B. Mainly because I wasn’t delusional about my ability to text and drive.

***

Almost three years ago I sold Rocco to a mechanic friend of mine, because he didn’t have a car to get to his job forever far away and I couldn’t keep up with the silly little very expensive problems Rocco was having.  When I sold him my boyfriend’s daughter cried, “I am really going to miss him.”  I guess he was just one of those cars, like a dog that becomes a part of the family… which is weird I guess, but at the same time maybe you just needed to know the car.

How My Friend Became My Cyber-Stalker

Tags

diary, facebook, fear, fr, high school, life, memories, personal

I met Brian in high school; he was a soft spoken odd little Korean boy with straight jet black hair.  I don’t remember talking to him much; he dated a few girls in my social circle, but I was a social butterfly so it makes sense that I knew many of his girlfriends.  I just find it amazing that he had so many.

He began dating my best friend Heather senior year, and because of that he and I became close.  Technically he was dating my best friend and he lived at the same apartments of another good friend Nicc’s boyfriend, and both of them use to come get me after work at Blockbuster to have me come over and play videogames for a bit before I went home.  Nicc’s boyfriend was hot, stupid hot and one day out of the blue he told me “You know, even if I had a hot female friend, I wouldn’t act on it because I am with Nicc.  She is my girlfriend and I wouldn’t do anything to mess that up.”  I was pretty sure he was talking about me, and all I could think was, seriously she is going to fuck you over sideways when she goes to college and you stay here, he was small town and she was big picture.  However I was also not the type to act on shit like that, it was probably more of a who would actually like me type of situation not a respect for Nicc situation, though I might just be saying the due to events that transpired between us.

Brian and I stayed in touch for years, he had a major falling out with Heather, but we still hung out and chatted.  One day he and I were talking about Fox my then boyfriend; Fox had done some shitty low down nonsense to me and I was bitching about it, when Brian told me flat out “I don’t want you see him anymore.”

I don’t do well with people telling me what to do, on top of the fact that no, fuck you what do you know?

I was a little taken aback and his comment thrust me further into Fox’s arms.  I told him what Brian had said and decided that it was time to distance myself from him.  The last thing that has ever been on my mind when it comes to Brian is a relationship.  Eww.

The distance seemed to do us good.  He moved on with a couple girls.  Fox and I broke up, I lived in Europe for a while, moved back home and then the facebook messages started.

Brian wanted to know what I had been up to, and understandable so.  We caught up.  I started dating Mike and everything went to shit pretty quickly.

Brian informed me that he no longer wanted me to see Mike.  Mike had not done any shitty low down bullshit to me; he was (and is) nothing like Fox.  Mike wouldn’t break up with me just so he could fuck another girl in our bed one night then get back together with me the next day, and pretend it wasn’t a low down bullshit thing to do because we weren’t technically “together”.  He wouldn’t dump me a second time, then bring a crack head back to the house we shared… and tell me to sleep on the couch.  Brian wasn’t speaking from a knowledgeable place, he wasn’t looking out for me, he was looking out for him.

So I cut him off again.  My cell phone number has not changed since high school, a little while after Brian told me not to see Mike I went with my family to California for a week.

When I got home I had eight voice messages, and ten facebook emails from Brian.

It went from…

“Hey my friend, I am going to a concert this weekend wanted to see if you wanted to come.  I will message you about it on facebook.”

To…

“I don’t understand what I did, where did this go wrong?  What did I ever do to deserve this?  Please call me… please call me back.  Call me and let me know what I did.  Hello?  Hello?  Are you listening?  Call me back.” 

I blocked him.

A few months later I got an email from him, he had erased his old facebook and started over; apparently this is a way around being blocked from one’s facebook.

The focus now and forever since then has been on getting back on my friends list.

Three times he has erased and started over with a new facebook.

Every time he writes me and asks me to be his friend and for an explanation of what he did wrong.

I block him.

He calls I ignore it.

He texts I ignore it.

One day at The Stopper why yes, I worked there, I was zipping around the establishment when out of the corner of my eye I saw Brian and his Mom.  They were on table 7, a large top table with four other people.  Brian walked over to me as I held a tray of drinks.  I stared at him, coming up with an escape plan.   I was completely alone, surrounded by so many people.

“I forgot, you work here huh?”  He lied, grinning at me like a fucking devil child.  “We are celebrating my birthday,” he pointed to the table; his Mom recognized me and smiled kindly. “Mom asked me where I wanted to go, and I said we hadn’t tried this place.”

Fact, The Stopper was at least an hour drive for him and his family to get to from their home.

I don’t know that I said anything to him.  I tried to keep my panic hidden.  I told my boss I felt ill, walked to the back door and kept going.  Two weeks later The Stopper burnt down.

Two months ago, I was sent a friend request from an unknown person.  The photo was a picture of a unicorn or some shit.  I didn’t respond to the request.  A few days later the requester wrote me,

This is Brian, please unblock me.

So, now I am super cautious (not that I shouldn’t be), I do not add information about my location, my work, everything is blocked to those that don’t know me.  He dates woman that we both know.  I suspect he uses their profiles to watch my moves.

Yesterday I signed on with my computer for the first time in months, because I usually use my phone.  In the corner a photo of Brian popped up in the PEOPLE YOU MIGHT KNOW column.  Now he is a silent watcher.  I haven’t updated any info or photos in so long, it seems like I don’t even exist anymore.  I worry about the ten year reunion, which is going to be in a year, what if he goes.  Fuck man.  He is so crazy I’m taking mace and a knife and I am not joking about that at all.