At first, I saw her around the hallways in high school. Small and petite with a somewhat quiet personality to match. Skinny coat, long dark hair flowing down her back and a smile so sweet, hearts would melt into pools of honey. Upon first glance, one would think she's Chinese, but she isn't as I later found out. Regardless, she was beyond cute.
I suppose I officially met her in English class. She and a couple of her friends were a year younger, and I don't remember why they were in our grade. One friend of hers was a fruity guy with a very sarcastic aura, but not hard to get along with. The other, a big guy. Teddy bear like. Friendly and open to everyone in class. With that said, it took me awhile to take a liking to them.
Our English teacher had taught me before. It didn't take long for people to realize that the teacher and I had clashed in the past. I couldn't help but frequently inject my humour into my work and presentations so with our history, her strictness and the fact that she exhibited a very feminist attitude, Ms. Teacher was obviously not a fan of my antics. I retaliated on a daily basis with harmless remarks about Ms. Teacher, mimicries of her accent and being a pain in general. Just about everyone appreciated my presence whether it was they disliked the teacher as much as I did and that making fun of her was a step in the right direction or simply because I gave them a good, well-deserved laugh.
One laugh in particular always caught my attention. It was a cute little giggle, sometimes muffled behind a hand. My eyes would dart to the other side of the room, hoping to catch her elusive in-class smile before the teacher would turn around to see it covered up in an attempt to appear unamused by my immaturity. And from there, a fun little friendship began.
We would sometimes strike up a conversation in class when she wasn't talking to anyone else, namely her two friends of the same age. We'd complain about the amount of work or how stupid the teacher would be or talk about projects coming up. In time, we exchanged MSN contacts and started chatting online. I broke the internet ice by asking if she was Chinese. She told me she was half Filipino, and half Japanese, the former catching me by surprise since her fair skin and distinctly soft featured face was uncommon for a Filipina. The latter turned on a lightbulb as I discovered something ridiculously obvious for the first time. Her last name couldn't have been more Japanese if it tried. All this time, I thought it was weird Chinese.
We found that we shared similar interests in types of music, children's shows and various other things only teens with mundane lives would find babble-worthy. I subconsciously looked forward to seeing her in class and even more so to seeing her online. We got along quite well quite quickly. I once threw her into the snow (playfully, mind you) and jumped in after her. I implemented the word "chippermonkey" into my vocabulary when we'd talk. I even learned that she had not listened to Weezer before, which is sort of a big deal so I had to share their music. I didn't know it yet, but she was definitely drawing me in.
Her birthday came around. I'm crap with remembering important dates so I probably just heard it from other people wishing her a happy one. After English class, I walked with her to her locker. Before getting there, we made a stop at the vending machine. I bought her a chocolate bar as a gift. Personally, I felt a measly chocolate was a pretty lame gift, but a gift nonetheless. She saw it as something a little more.
A holiday weekend was coming up (Easter weekend) and there was a punk rock show on the Saturday I was planning to go to with some friends. New Found Glory and Less Than Jake were my main reasons for going, however Good Charlotte was headlining (they played "The Click", the theme from "Undergrads", so I was happy.). I was talking about this concert with her in class and I decided to invite her along since I hadn't bought tickets yet. She was delighted to come and so we were set.
The concert was approaching soon and we were a couple days away from beginning the holiday weekend. I was chatting with her online and we both admitted to feeling bored. I invited her to watch a movie with me the next day. She agreed. So it was set. We were going to see a movie.
Movie night rolled around and I met her in front of the theatre. We hadn't decided what to watch yet so we browsed titles for a few minutes while saying "You choose, I don't really mind." back and forth. As we were deciding, the line up for tickets spilled outside the door, so for the first time in my life, I used my debit card to get tickets from those automatic thingies. (Yes, it was a big deal.) We had decided on Anger Management (That movie with Jack Nicholson and Adam Sandler).
Despite the theatre being pretty packed, we managed to snag centre seats. As we sat, I removed my coat and pulled out two chocolate bars. She laughed. It was the very same kind I had bought her for her birthday. I offered her one but she refused so I eventually ate both (as slowly as possible. The crunchiness was a bit bothersome.)
There was only one armrest and I had claimed it first. She rested her arm on top of mine and asked if I didn't mind. When I asked why, she claimed my arm would fall asleep with hers on top. Obviously, it wasn't an issue at all... What did pass through my mind was that I was nervously close to holding her hand. Throughout the film, she would move her fingers about my upturned hand. I pretended not to notice and continued watching Sandler and Nicholson bicker onscreen.
After the movie, we walked to the Tim Horton's coffee shop in the same lot and decided to chill out for a bit since the night was still very young. I offered to get her something but she refused, so to avoid loitering, I bought a Cafe Mocha. We sat down and chatted for a few hours while I sipped away at my quickly-cooling beverage. At one point, I tilted my cup back while drinking so that the whipped cream would hit my nose. After putting the cup down, she giggled uncontrollably. An elderly couple noticed and pointed it out. I assured them I did it on purpose with a smile and they smiled back. We continued chatting a little while longer while subconsciously playing footsie underneath the table.
When my drink ran out, we felt like enjoying the night a little longer. We left and sat on a cement island underneath a light pole to chat some more and generally kill time. At this point, her cellphone was constantly going off. As she repeatedly silenced it, she told me her father can wait. I was wearing my old winter longcoat, despite the weather being quite mild at the time. I encouraged her to try it on so she did. Her petite frame made it look as if she were trying on giant's clothing. It was cute. She asked if I wanted to try her jacket on. Needless to say, it didn't fit but I enjoyed seeing her in mine nonetheless.
It was getting pretty late so she finally picked up her phone and said her father will be picking her up soon. We went back inside the coffee shop to wait so that her father wouldn't see that she was with me. She later told me that when he came around, she pointed at a random group of girls and said she was hanging out with them. Before she left, I said goodnight and told her to call me tomorrow (concert day). She flashed me one last smile before leaving with her father.
I waited until their van was well out of the vicinity before I left the coffee shop to head home. The air was getting a little chillier but I couldn't feel it. My mind was elsewhere, looking back at the night that just happened. Was this a date? Did I ACTUALLY go on a date? It sure felt like it.
The day of the concert arrived and I was late to meet my friends at the venue, which was located outside the city. With nothing in my pockets but cash for swag and a sharpie for signatures, I scanned the line outside the doors to find my friends. As I squinted to find recognizable faces, I felt a finger poke at my sides. As a very ticklish person, I jumped, cursed ad turned to the attacker, only to be met arched eyes and a giggle behind a small hand. "Oh, hey!" I greeted her. "I'm looking for my friends. Come with me." With the late afternoon sun blaring down, she walked close enough to get some shade from my height, almost leaning on me as we continued to look for my buddies.
When I finally saw them in the middle of the line, I ran to them with the girl closely trailing behind. She sat on the ground while I chatted with my friends, all of which were also girls, but close friends of mine since grade school. We were discussing which songs and bands we'd enter "the pit" for. Motioning to the girl sitting on the ground, one of them asked, "Is she even a fan of rock? I don't think she'll survive the pit if she goes in there." It was true. She'd be trampled. I didn't want to back down from the pit. I glanced at the girl sitting on the asphalt, playing with her shoelaces. "She won't survive the pit... But she'll be with me." I said.
The doors finally opened and fans poured into the airplane hangar sized venue, scattering like insects to the merch stands and to the stage. A few of my friends did likewise, except one who stayed with me and the girl. The opening band was unknown, therefore not worthy of rushing to the stage for. My friend asked where I was going to be. "I'll be with her near the audio booth. I'll find you later." My friend smirked. "Have fun you two." I rolled my eyes, suggesting she keep her mouth shut as my only intention with the girl was to enjoy the show.
The lights dimmed for the opening act. I motioned to the girl to come with me to the audio mixing booth in the centre of the venue with a sweeping hand motion. She nodded and grabbed my hand, catching me completely off guard. I used the dense crowd as an excuse to "lose" her hand while navigating to the centre, because my hands began to perspire due to the overwhelming heat in the building... and the fact that she was holding my bleedin' hand.
The opening acts were okay. I paid them little attention as I was having a chat with the girl while leaning against the steel gate barrier separating the crowds from the audio technicians. Less Than Jake was announced to take the stage next. The music fan in me wanted to rush to the stage to see them play... The rest of me was locked in place, sitting next to this girl who continued to hold my hand. At the very least, I had to stand up. The both of us got to our feet in unison and the band began playing. After a song, I threw up my hands and cheered wildly. As my hands lowered to listen to the next song, I felt a pair of arms wrap around me. she was holding onto me. It was at least 25 degrees celsius in there, the air was thick, and I was wearing a shirt I bought layered over the shirt I wore when I came in. I was ready to melt. Despite all this, I fought my nerves and held back.
Less Than Jake was finishing their set. I struggled to clap to after each song as I was bound in place. A moshing fan nearby had a piercing ripped out, and was brought to the audio mixing booth for its clear space. As an employee flashed a light on the fan, the girl and I saw pints of blood pout onto the cement floor. The sight was gnarly to say the least. I couldn't turn away, but it must've been too much for the girl as she buried her face into my shirt while still holding me.
What happened next is hard to explain... but it changed everything.
My vision blurred and time seemed to have slowed down. Less Than Jake was finishing their last song. The masses were hopping along to the tunes. People were cheering and screaming. A fan bled himself dry behind me. The hot blooded energy that I get from any live show was ready to go off. Yet there I stood with this girl, holding onto me, facing away from the stage. As if she went to the show not for the bands.... but for me. Thoughts raced through my head like hummingbirds of crack. Yes, she is cute. She's got a smile that melts me like ice cream. She's smart. She likes good music. She's talented. She's devoted. She's basically everything one could ask for in a girlfriend..... but I felt rushed. It wasn't something I wanted at the time.
I wanted to jump around with my friends. I wanted to scream out song lyrics along with the band. I wanted to uppercut the ass of the crowd surfer. I wanted to have fun. It was just bad timing. That day, my hands weren't meant for holding, but for throwing up the horns. I wanted out.
Good Charlotte was preparing to take the stage so I loosened my embrace. "I'm just gonna see if I can find my friend. I'll be back in a sec." I returned.... eventually. Not after one Good Charlotte song. Not after five. Not even after their set was finished. I returned after New Found Glory's set. I pretty much left the girl to stand by the audio booth while I kicked it up in the pit and rocked out without a care in the world.
The concert ended. I was tired, hot, sweaty, my ears were ringing, my legs were sore and my voice was hoarse. But the grin on my face showed obvious satisfaction. I stumbled out of the dissipating crowd and saw the girl, waiting patiently for my return. It was obvious that I wanted to go and enjoy the concert without her on my arm and a part of me felt like an absolute cock for doing so. I wasn't going to attempt any excuses. I just looked at her, leaning on the very barrier we leaned on over an hour ago. I caught her eye, so she got up came to me.
"Did you have fun?" She asked. I tried to detect sarcasm or bitterness for leaving her behind, but found none. It was genuine. Still feeling a bit like a total dick, I replied "Yeah. I did."
We hitched a ride home in a van with my friends. The girl and I sat in the back. At this point, even more thoughts rushed through my mind. I didn't want to think about it, but the fact was that the girl liked me. For awhile, I honestly liked her in return. But now, I was questioned anything and everything. Why does she like me? Did I earn it? What did I do to earn it? It felt too easy to earn. This isn't real, is it? Well, it was... that night, i changed reality.
The girl and I sat quietly in the back. I stared out the window and going over what happened that night. Out of nowhere, she said "Does this tickle?" as she started doing a spider-like motion on my knee in an attempt to start some idle chit-chat. I pushed her hand away and said I was ticklish and that it bothered me as I was far too tired. The truth was that I fucked up a relationship. Well, I was in the middle of fucking it up and I knew it. I just didn't want anything to do with her anymore. I didn't want to say it... but that night was the last she'd ever hear from me.
I assume she was still trying to hide her new friend from her father as she asked to be dropped off on her street, and not her house. I watched her walk away and muttered a goodbye under my breath.
When I arrived home, I went to my computer, signed in to my messenger to see if she was on. Turns out she was. I opened up a chat window and typed out what I wanted to say, as much as the message box would allow me to. My finger hovered over the enter key... I was a centimetre away from ending this clean and clear.... but no.
I am an asshole, yes. But more so, I am a coward.
I closed the window, blocked her, deleted her, erased her contact from my cell phone, went to my room and went to sleep, desperately trying to convince myself that I was doing the right thing.
On the Monday we returned to school, I outright ignored her, completely refusing to acknowledge her existence. When she'd say hi, I would look the other way. Her timid, soft-spoken nature made it a little easier to shut her out... but deep inside, I wanted to apologize. I couldn't. If I were to crack now, I'd break down and everything pathetic about me would pour out, begging forgiveness and another chance. This was my decision.
A couple weeks later, I was invited to another show by a mutual friend of the girl and I. The Foo Fighters were playing Toronto and I was offered a ticket. Without hesitation, I agreed. It wasn't long before when I changed my mind and rejected the offer after hearing that the girl was going too. Again, I wanted to stand fast by my decision. It was a horrible move to pass up a Foo Fighters show, but I did what I thought was the right move.
Time passed and the school year was nearing an end. Said mutual friend sat down and talked with me about the girl, asking why I disappeared from her life. I couldn't answer. She then told me that it was the girl who bought the Foo Fighter tickets, hoping to be with me for another show. My insides were grinding into dust, yet I still had no definite answer. She revealed that I was dubbed "The Ex" to the girl and her friends, who would mentioned it every time I passed their group in the hall. "There's your ex." they'd say. Am I really an "ex"? Does it count if we never officially dated? Did we officially date? I'll never know now.
Years had passed. I was in my final year of high school. Crushes would come and go and I stayed consistent in my singledom. A band-aid show was coming up, and Something Else was scheduled to play after a particular group who was planning to cover some Metric tunes. I waited on my end of the stage, psyching myself up to blow the audience away. My preparation was interrupted by a drum and siren-like guitar intro from the band before us. Their drummer was alright... probably better than me at the time. Their vocalist, a cool girl who got along with every one. The lad on keyboards was a cool guy. A bit of a hipster douche, but cool nonetheless. Hmm.. Who was that on guitar?
Who else?
It had felt like centuries since she crossed my mind. Seemingly out-of-the-blue, she appears, guitar in hand, picking away while covering a well-known Canadian new-wave rock band. Thoughts rushed through my head yet again. Is this who I could've been dating? Could I have been the beat to her six-stringed heart? What the fuck have I done?
Since that day, I occasionally see her in the halls, hand-in-hand with her new guy in a baseball cap. I could never listen to songs off "Old World Underground, Where Are You" the same way again. I never went to see Foo Fighters live. Every time I heard a particular giggle, her smile would flash in my subconscious. Despite all this, I graduated high school and moved on. As quickly as she came into my life, she disappeared.
Or so I thought.
It was around spring when I started having that dream. It was one of the few reoccurring dreams I've ever had. Down to every last realistic detail, it remained consistent, as did the results. Every time, I'd wake up feeling shattered, praying that the dream would leave me alone so I could sleep in peace. I've been tempted to talk to the mutual friend and ask how the girl is doing. I almost fell to the apparently addictive allure of Facebook, to get in contact with her. That dream left me a bitter feeling. I just want to make it go away.
Of all times, now is when I miss her. When I am unable to to anything to even attempt to make up for it in some way, direct or indirect.
I feel sick when I think about how much I regret doing what I did. It's not easy to let go of something when there is nothing in one's life to replace an emptiness. I'm sure this is sounding more and more like a loser's lament and y'know what? It is.
I've never told anybody about this chapter in my life and I know you can see why. I thought maybe if I told this to someone.. anyone... I could get it off my chest and have one less thing to feel shitty about.
I'll let you know if it's working.
I found my teenaged self in an unfamiliar hallway though just about everyone from high school was around. I was walking and for reasons unknown to me, I was headed towards the office.
On my way down, she walked by me in the same direction. I called out her name and reached out my hand to tap her on the shoulder. She turned around swiftly and met my eyes with a look of scorn.
"Why were you with her?" she asked.
A sudden flashback of walking through the rain with someone else entered my head. I was supposed to be going to a party. I don't know who that someone else was but I do know I probably wanted nothing to do with her. It was simply coincidence that we were headed to the same place.
The flashback ended. I blinked to focus on her again. She was heartbroken. Her eyes welled up with tears and she seemed to be shaking, almost unable to control the emotions taking over her body. Eventually her tears poured down her face, beaded on her chin and met the ground, cold and full of sadness.
In my head, I knew the truth. I knew exactly what I wanted to say. I knew I could make it right if I tried.... but I didn't.
She turned away and continued towards the office. After following her in, I was greeted by the principal. I sat on top of a short bookcase while she walked over to someone I couldn't recognize and sat close to him on a couch. The principal looked at the pair, then at me, then back at the pair.
"Tell me the truth. Which one of these gentlemen do you love?"
I watched her shift closer to the other guy and hold his hand. The principal leaned in closer to them, waiting for her answer. I sat still and watched her lips. Waiting to hear whose name she would say felt like an eternity.
I didn't know what it was that made me think she would say my name. I almost felt certain that she was going to say she loved me. But no. I didn't even have to hear her answer. I could read it in her face.. In the way she gazed into the eyes of her someone else. She loved him now.
I left the office to pack my bags and clean out my locker. I felt a tap on my shoulder and quickly turned around, hoping it would be her. It was him instead.
"No hard feelings, right?" he said as he extended his hand.
"None at all. I screwed up and she deserves better. She deserves you."
I shook his hand and and nodded before walking away. "Take care of her for me, okay?"
I was in front of my locker now. As I started packing my bag with clothes and books, I felt a sharp pain shoot through my body as if every nerve in my system tore into shreds then somehow pieced back together again all within a split a second.
Shocked by the sensation, I dropped my bag and quickly shut my eyes. That's when I started to remember...
...The hug at that concert...The chocolate bar I gave her on her birthday... The movie we saw on a public holiday.... The children's show we talked about over instant messenger.... The whipped cream on my nose while we spent hours at the coffee shop... The snow I threw her in and jumped into right after.. The parking lot where she tried on my coat.... The chats in English class... The salsa pattern we practiced on our teacher's birthday... The genuine feelings I felt for her and the genuine feelings she returned..
I ended it. Just like that. I disappeared from her life and she disappeared from mine. I let all of it go and I still don't know why.
I was still in front of my locker when I opened my eyes. The hallways were now empty. Piled at my feet were the fallen contents of my bag. My face started to hurt from keeping tears in. With a heavy sigh, I let it out. My chest felt hollow. I held onto myself as if clutching onto a wound. I fell back onto the lockers and slid down until my head was buried in my arms and resting on my knees.
"Why, Josh?"
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I woke up.
I felt a fresh trail of moisture on my face. My hand was on my chest. I felt the same continued affliction. But I was awake now. Maybe I just yawned really hard before waking up. Maybe it's coincidence my hand rested on my chest. Maybe I slept in a strange position.
It was denial. I felt the need to fight it but I lost anyway.
I did cry. I did feel heartache. I did feel a crippling emptiness inside of me.
That night, my subconscious wanted to tell me something.
There still exists a regret and I haven't let her go.
We were about a couple of hours into our afternoon class, so around 3:00pm. As usual, the lecture portion of the class was over and we were free to work on assignments. Of course, we doing the complete opposite of work and fiddling around with silly applications for our Macbooks, shouting inside jokes back and forth from one end of our row at the back of the class and the obvious browsing of entertaining videos online.
It was a slow day for our regular video sites. The updates weren’t particularly amusing so I decided to browse Collegehumour’s old videos. I wound up finding great amusement in a short video showing a pet rabbit releasing gas. In other words, it was a 20 second vid of a bunny farting.
My laughter tends to send up a flag in people minds that even if they are hard at work, they have to know what is so amusing to Josh. I gladly shared the video, swinging around my Macbook to show those in the rows ahead of me. I then turned to my side and showed two classmates who are fellow drummers.
Back from a washroom break, another classmate sat down and asked what we were watching. We told him to just watch. He laughed loudly and thanked me for sharing it. I asked him “Wasn’t he cute?”
“Yeah.. Cute cat.” He replied.
My drummer friend and I turned to each other in confusion. We played the video again to see if we missed something. It was clearly a rabbit. The other friend watched the replay with us and gestured to the screen. “It’s a cat.” he said. So we played the video again.
“No.” I tried to correct him. “It’s a rabbit.”
He pointed to the screen once more and repeated “It’s a cat!”
I looked at my drummer friend to see if I was the mistaken one. He assured me that I and everyone else who has seen the video (including the one who posted it) was correct in believing the animal was a rabbit. We played the video yet again.
We tried pointing out its features. It had long ears, a short tail and rabbit-like paws. After showing him the video and detailing its rabbit features, we told him again. “Dude. It’s a fucking rabbit. A bunny! You know. The hopping animal!”
He nodded and replied, “Yeah. I know. It’s a cat.”
At this point we had almost lost our patience. He was either trying to piss us off in a very obscure way or he had gone batshit insane. We had to play the video one last time.
“Look.” I said. “It’s got a short tail. Long bunny paws. Long fucking ears. It’s a bit chubby but it is CLEARLY A GODDAMN FUCKING RABBIT!”
“No. It’s a cat.”
I slumped back into my swiveling chair. He couldn’t be serious. I was close to giving up. He didn‘t seem like he was joking so I tried another method. He owned a cat. My drummer friend owned a rabbit. Maybe that would put some sense into him.
“Listen. What you saw in the video is a rabbit. It looked like a rabbit and the title of the video has the word rabbit in it. YOU own a cat. Cats look different. Cats aren’t in the video. Can you hear yourself?”
“Ohhhh!” He chuckled. “I knew it what you were talking about. I just kept saying cat for some reason. I was all like “What the fuck is he talking about?””
He had his words confused the whole time. My frustration vanished as everyone in the back row had a long, long laugh.
I first saw her in an oversized black and neon (pink and green) windbreaker. At the time, I was a short kid so she was much taller than me. Her hair was dirty blonde and tied tight into a curly ponytail. Her eyes were as green as grass. She was the quieter one of her trio, usually walking behind the two talkers when they’d loop the track during recess. Apparently, she was insanely shy.
Sometimes we would exchange glances as I passed her while hanging out with my buds, who at the time her very much into wrestling. I never thought anything of her. That changed when her friend approached me to ask my phone number. When I asked why, she explained to me she wanted it on behalf of her shy friend who had a crush on one of my friends. I asked why again. She just wanted to talk to someone who knew him better. I passed on my number and thought little of it.
That night, I received a phone call from the shy girl. She attempted idle chitchat until I asked what she needed to know about my friend. “To tell you the truth, I’m not interested in Cory”. Completely oblivious to her game, I asked “Then who?” She replied with one clue. “His name is four letters long.” I guessed a few names and she said I was wrong for all of them. My guesses started to branch out to guys who weren’t friends of mine but I still hadn’t correctly identified her crush. “Fine…” she said, “I’ll only give you another clue. His name ends with an ‘h’.”
At this point, I was a little bit annoyed with her game and completely stumped since I only knew of the name Hugh ending in ‘h’ and there was no Hugh at our school. She giggled constantly when I demanded she tell me. “Fine.” Her giggling stopped and her tone of voice lightened. “It’s you.”
I was still young and few girls have ever staight up said they liked me, so my reply was probably an uncommon one. “My name has 6 letters, dummy.”
From that point on, we exchanged a number of phone calls night after night. She would do most of the talking and I’d just “Oh yeah?” or “Mm-hmm.” on the other end. She told me a lot about her. She was originally from Newfoundland, she wore socks to bed and her mom wouldn’t let her go out very often. She was just a typical girl with a few quirks. I didn’t quite know why she would like someone like me though. She then admitted to liking another short, slightly tanned boy who was a year older. So maybe I was her type of deal.
Nothing was official and my friends didn’t really have a clue. To be honest, I thought she was quite pretty, but never thought anything more than that she was someone I spoke to while watching TV or mess with modeling clay. She’d try to hold my hand during recess, but I insisted on keeping with my friends, and she with hers. Her friend soon developed a crush on another of my friends, but was a bit more blunt about it. Her friend would constantly drag him from our group to hang with them. I usually followed him to “get him back” and at the same time, see the girl for a minute. The fact that my group of buds lost two of their men every recess was starting to get their attention. Still oblivious to my situation, they were intent on rescuing my bud from the trio of girls.
Little time passed when I received a particularly memorable phone call. Halfway through the conversation, she asked if she could tell me something. She hesitated a while but soon blurted “I like you and I want to kiss you. Can I some time?”
“Seriously?” I asked.
“Serious.”
Had I known she wanted this, I wouldn’t have led her on from the start. Again, I was young. I preferred to pretend-wrestle on portable steps and stop when teachers passed by. I preferred to play foot hockey or “Red Ass” with a tennis ball. I preferred to circle the track, role-playing my character in an imaginary comic book with fellow creative minds. Sure, I had hormonal-driven thoughts at that time too, don’t get me wrong. But I wasn’t looking for that. After that phone call, I decided to end something that never really started, and save my bud.
As I look back as our next actions as a crew, I’m starting to realize what we did was… well... pretty stupid and immature, but funny nonetheless. When the trio approached us to grab my bud, he resisted. His crush attempted to grab him, again, but like a bar of soap, he slipped away. A pair of green eyes looked into mine with worried brows above them. I turned away and took a few steps back, as did the rest of my crew. Our hands rose in unison, and swiftly came down to criss-cross in front of our crotches.
“SUCK IT!” we shouted at the top of our lungs.
That was the cleanest line to spew out of our mouths. As we continued to imitate a certain group of professional wrestlers’ catchphrase, we circled the girls shouting esteem-shattering insults and vulgar words of repulsion. As we did, I looked at the pair of green eyes again and saw a steady stream of tears. She knew she could never call again. She knew she couldn’t hold hands anymore. She knew my answer to her question the previous night. As my eyes met hers for the last time, I knew she had realized that whatever it was, it had ended and that there wasn’t an ounce of apology in me.
It didn’t take long for our actions to be noticed. Us boys were sent promptly to the principal’s office to be lectured and punished. Along with detention for the remainder of the week, we were asked to write a letter of what we did and an apology. In the group, I was known as the clever one. I was also known as the class clown or fool. To this day I don’t know which identity made me draw what I did, instead of write about it. On a letter-sized lined Hilroy sheet, I drew a group of figures pointing to their crotches with three girls crying. In speech bubbles, I wrote down excerpts of what was said. I was so caught up in perfecting my drawing, I completely forgot about the apology bit. I was called back into the principal’s office to receive another lecture. My punishment wasn’t extended, but I still had to get my ear talked off. As for my apology, I was asked if I was sorry. I lied and said I was.
I never saw her again. For the rest of the school year, her trio stayed in one area and I in another. She moved away soon after. Yes, she was pretty and she could’ve easily been my first kiss, but I hadn’t earned her feelings…
…And so I let it go.
Just a note: Girls have actually liked me first. Big shocker, I know. In those situations, I tend to go along for the ride… then hop off in an instant. I think fuck it up on purpose. I’ve finally figured it out. I’d prefer to catch than be caught. I’m picky, inexperienced and terrified of failure. But I have no regrets. Sure I think about the “What ifs”, but I have reasons for doing what I do.
I like them because they’re out of my reach.
I don’t because they’re right in front of me.
I like feeling the hurt when they’re gone.
I don’t like prize without trial.
Prepare to learn a lot more about me.
