Stupid Girl

My so-called fairy tale has always seemed to be covered by an extremely dark storm cloud. My early life resembled a Tim Burton film in it’s darkness. Having known no other way of life, how was I to know when I was 15 years old, from the moment that I locked eyes with him, that I should have run as fast I could in the other direction?

At the age of 15, a girl is ill equipped at being rational, especially if she already has a shattered heart & darkened soul. When I was 15, I had already distanced myself from childhood, yet I was completely naive to the ways of the heart. I was caught entirely off guard when I saw him for the first time, driving a moped through the courtyard of my high school, then again at a party, before I was expelled from my high school & sent to a special ed school for the most troubled kids in the area. I wasn’t expecting to see those eyes peering at me through the window of my classroom on my first day at that nightmare of a supposed school. It was, in my opinion, more of a daycare for the baddest & most troubled kids, which I guess included me. I had never experienced anything like I felt when I saw him….nor have I felt that feeling, thankfully, again. I foolishly mistook that feeling for love at first sight, and not what it was…..a strong intuition inside of me to avoid this person, as he would be the one person who would break my heart worse than anyone who would followed him.

Jason was the most beautiful boy I had ever seen. His shining blue eyes captivated me, drew me in & stole my heart. I was awestruck by him & looking back at it now, it makes me chuckle, because he was just a skinny, pale boy with long brown hair & these piercing eyes. He was so dark, so guarded….that he seemed “cool”, when in fact, he was just frightened. By the end of the first day I was his fool, although he had no idea, as I wasn’t necessarily the type of girl to chase or throw myself at anyone. From the beginning, he was brutal, surrounded by a solid brick wall reinforced with concrete & mortar.

What is it about the ones who are closed off the most that seem so appealing that we have to have them? Why do insist on going after the things & people in life that are the worst for us? At what point are we supposed to learn the lessons laid out for us by our parents & why isn’t it when we are still young & horribly impressionable?

By day 3, we traded each others virginity……which, by the way, was a typically awkward act of two 15 year old’s who had no clue what we were doing. We knew nothing of intimacy. We had no business doing what we were doing. It was not a pleasant experience, to say the least. To be fair, the act was merely cold, it was the aftermath that permanently scarred me. I have shared this story with a few people in my life, but until this moment I have never taken the bold step of putting it on the internet for the world (right) to see. It is both shameful to me & disgusting on his part…..but in reading this, I ask the reader to keep in mind that this was an extremely troubled & broken 15-year-old boy. He had no idea what he was doing or the lifelong ramifications of his words & actions. The day of the consummation was a Friday & the next day we attended a Black Sabbath concert with some friends, so we spent the majority of the weekend together. I was by all accounts totally lost in him. When we returned to school on Monday, what I saw taped to the wall above the door of our classroom turned the world around me into a blur of nothingness. It is important to point out that this school was comprised of 58 boys & 3 girls. That ratio was overwhelming in & of itself. As I walked into the room, the boys burst into hysterical laughter. I immediately knew what they were laughing about, I just didn’t know why. One of them pointed at me & yelled “there she is now”. I turned to look behind me & noticed the drawing above the door. It was a crude drawing of a females legs & genital area. There appeared to be some sort of green goo coming out of the girl…..with vapors drifting from said goo. Apparently, it was meant to be a drawing of me, of my private area & the insinuation was that I had a malodorous body. This was the most humiliating experience of my life.

I was an insecure child & my soul was irreparably damaged. I still carry the scars of that action to this day. I have worked for years to overcome it & have only within the last year come to terms with the fact that this action was more about his insecurity & personal issues than it was about me. That was impossible to see at the time. I think the true sickness of this story is that even after that I still allowed him to be in my life for 5 more years.

There are many things that happened during that 5 year period, some of which I refuse to discuss. I can say that there were plenty of drugs floating around & we were both consumed by them to differing extents. Jason was becoming consumed by his addictions & I was as well, I guess, as I was not able to deal with any aspect of my life sober at that time. The thought of all I subjected myself to during this time breaks my heart. After the beginning of the next year Jason was sent away for the mounting legal troubles he found himself in. I made it a point to spend as much time as I could with him before he left, because he would be gone for 18 months, which was a lifetime as a teenager & I was, for some stupid reason, completely in love with him. Man, the money I could spend on a therapist!

Years later I was having a conversation with Jason’s younger brother, who told me that what he remembered most of our teen years was how terribly Jason treated me during that time. What a fool I must have appeared to be.

I wrote him faithfully while he was away, even though his response letters tore my heart out with their questions of love, why I felt that way, what it meant & how I could feel it towards him. I had no clue that he was feeling the same way about me, yet was beyond frightened to let me in. He refused my continued requests to visit him, because he didn’t want me to see him in that environment & looking back now, I can understand that.

The day he was released & came home, I immediately went to see him. I remember standing in his basement bedroom at his grandparents house, filled with joy to see him & just know he was back home again. When he attempted to talk me into having sex with him, I think I literally laughed at him. First, his grandmother was in the kitchen above us & in fact yelled down to us more than once. Secondly & what he had blocked from his memory was the very real memory to me of our first time around. I said it was something I couldn’t do & he stepped back, looked at me & said he completely understood. He didn’t bring it up again.

A couple years later, he was planning to move out of the area, to live with a new girlfriend that he had. The night before he left, as he was staying with a mutual friend, I had decided that I wanted to spend that night with him, as well as our friend & Jason’s mom, who I was very close to. She was also moving up north the next morning. It was a surreal night, to say the least. Again, there are details that I have to leave out, but after Jason’s girlfriend had gone to sleep, he came out of the bedroom & we were all hanging out, laughing, talking, drinking, smoking & at a certain point he corners me in the kitchen, pinning me up against the stove. He started asking me the strangest questions for someone who’s girlfriend was asleep in the next room, such as “what are we?” “what is this thing between us?”

Honestly, I had no correct answers, so I just said it was nothing, we were friends & that he should go back to his girlfriend. The next morning, as I waved them off & said my goodbyes, it felt as though my heart was dying. I feared I would never see him again, although, had I been a clear thinking girl I would have been comforted by that thought. I didn’t see him again for 20 years, until last June.

Damn those social networking sites! Jason never left my heart or my mind in those 20 years. He haunted me. Of course, as many of us do, I would periodically look up his name on the websites. One night, a couple years ago, I ran across his younger brother & began to talk with him a bit here & there. He had told me that Jason was living in Florida & that stuck with me. Not long after that I moved to Florida & even looked him up. I did find what city he was living in & nearly drove out there one day, but halfway through the drive my wits got the better of me & I turned around, writing the thought off. Then, in February of 2009 I found a Facebook account that had been set up for Jason. I sent a friend request & an email. I didn’t get a response, so I forgot about it.

One day, as I was sitting in a digital imaging class at the local community college, I decided to check my Facebook account, as I often did. There, glaring at me from my inbox, was a message from Jason, saying that he was in town & that if I wanted to get together to give him a call. He left a number. Instead, I chose to write him back, but within 10 minutes I was standing outside the school talking to him on the phone. He asked me if I would like to meet him at an old friends house & I was 15 again. I went back into class, collected my belongings & went home to change for the momentous occasion. A couple of hours later & pulled in to the friends driveway & there, standing against the house, was Jason….older, aged…..but still beautiful & all the emotions came rushing back to me at once. I found myself hugging him & feeling as if I was in love all over again. What a disastrous situation.

We all had a lot of fun talking & catching up. I could tell Jason was interested or attracted…something & by midnight he was kissing me by the fire pit. What was I thinking? I wasn’t thinking, I was caught up, lost in him once again, just as I had been 20 years earlier. We spent his vacation together & by the time he went home he was trying to convince me to come down to the town in Florida where he lived, to see if I liked it & may be interested in moving there. The next week on a break between training for & activation of Warped Tour I flew down to Florida for 4 days, including my birthday.

I could hear a bit of apprehension in his voice, but I ignored it & went anyway. It was a strange, slightly awkward, but overall fun visit. By the time I left, I had already made my decision to move down there when the tour was over. There were signs everywhere, like completely ignoring me one of the days I was down there, not even answering his phone. I brushed the doubt away & left for my tour.

After I got back home we had decided that he would fly up here to spend some time before we drove down to Florida in my car, together. Again, from the moment he arrived, the signs were everywhere. I went to the airport to pick him up, but he was nowhere to be found. His brother had called me & we were talking when I realized that he had somehow either skipped his flight, which I had paid for, or had left with someone else. His brother was concerned, so he called him. I had also called him a few times, but he ignored my calls. He answered for his brother & he was informed that I was at the airport & where was he. He said that his buddy had figured out he was coming & somehow magically found out his flight information & picked him up without it being planned. Another bullshit story. Man, seriously, looking back, I really should have known better, but he was/is my kryptonite. I wanted this so badly that I couldn’t see the blinding signs in front of my face.

After two really nice weeks together up here, we began our journey to Florida. As we were getting into the car, saying our goodbyes to family & as we were pulling away, I felt this impending sense of doom. I decided it was just my fear taking control of me. Jason became more tense the closer we got to Florida. I found this odd, but my blind side chalked it up to jitters of us starting a new life & relationship. Little did I know……that very first night, he left me alone in the hotel we had rented until we found our own place.

Fast forward 2 months…..too many voice mails later, too many nights alone later & naked pictures of his supposed “ex-girlfriend” on his phone from the night before later……I left. I left because the mounting evidence against Jason & his “former” girlfriend of 5 years, Courtney, had in fact never broke up & he had juggled the two of us for months, not very well, I might add. It was good enough for Courtney to buy it though, because she was knocked to the ground & a bit shattered when I emailed her, explaining our story & that we had been living together. I left him as soon as I got a response from her, confirming my suspicions. I have been hurt before. I have been cheated on before. I have been betrayed before, but nothing had ever felt like the utter humiliation I felt for being duped in such grand fashion. To be fair to myself, I sensed it all along. Every time I would bring it up, he would come up with some excuse, even when I found out where she lived & drove by her house at 2am one night, only to find his truck in the driveway next to her car. I know, it was a little stalkerish, but I didn’t stop, only took a picture, so I could show him later. That lie was brilliant. I never did believe it though & that’s when I shut down.

I was out of money at this point, as I had supported him for the past 2 months & had to ask my old roommate Chris is I could come stay with him for a while so I could figure out what I was gonna do. It wasn’t the house I had left a year earlier. It was tense & full of drama. I hated being there, but was incredibly grateful to Chris for allowing me to crash. It took me 2 1/2 months to get some money together & came up with the plan to return here. It was the last thing I wanted, well…..second to last thing I wanted. In the end, I am glad I came back, but am anxious to move on to my next adventure.

Recently, Jason mentioned to me yet again, that he really feels that we will still be together & that he planned to stay up here the entire time his grandfather is here for the summer, 60 days were his exact words to me. I have since decided to take a tour for the entire time he will be here, and not subject myself to his lies & betrayals once again. I know for a fact that he & Courtney are still together, so what’s the point? I can’t listen to his drunken tirades anymore about how we’re soulmates & that we’re meant to be together. I’m tired of listening to his lies about how he & Courtney, while they still may be technically together, there is no love or sex involved anymore. I do not want to fall into his trap once again, only to be shattered for a 3rd time. Jason will continue to be a drunk who stays in his co-dependent relationship with this younger girl who doesn’t seem to know or want any better for herself. They can have each other, I’d rather be alone.

It’s time to grow up. It’s time to let go. It’s time to move on. It’s time to say goodbye, so……..



Filed under Dating, Life, Real Life, Relationships, Writing

6 responses to “Stupid Girl

  1. camera_chica

    Wow Jenn. It’s brought stuff to the surface I’ll tell you about, but not tonight. I too ask myself why we allow these feelings to overwhelm us over the wrong people, when we are still so impressionable and naive?

  2. camera_chica

    I’m glad you stand strong now – that kind of tortuous longevity is so draining. Leave ’em be. You’re on another journey now hon.

    The below started out as one paragraph and ended up a novel, so sorry it’s so long but it felt good getting it out!!

    I grew up in a small town in rural England, where pretty much everyone knew who you were and if they didn’t, they’d know somebody who did. My childhood wasn’t terrible by any mean – I lived in a bungalow on the edge of town on an estate of other red brick bungalows and houses built in the late 60’s, where kids would sit unsupervised on the kerb playing, watching the boys skateboard or race down the hill in their newly built go-karts. My parents both worked and every few years we would go on a great holiday, usually to Florida, as my mother was suspicious of Europe and the frighteningly poor standards of hygiene she expected to find there.

    Emotionally, they just weren’t prepared for the input and demonstrations of love a child needs constantly in order to grow and flourish. They were never unkind, never abusive, no one drank and we always had food on the table, but it was empty of love, whether spoken or acted. I learned to be self-sufficient I thought, but maybe too independent, shutting off emotionally or never being shown how to open that particular box. You’re aware of the world around you and hear these tales of all-consuming love, reciprocated by another who chooses to love you, not because they have to but because they want to. Because you’re lovable. This other one pulling you close and taking you to a place where you’re so close, the room feels colder apart. You give love, you get love, right?

    I knew who he was, the dark haired, devilishly dark-eyed elder brother of a girl in my scout group. It was July 1988. I was a month off 15 and dancing to Desireless’ Voyage Voyage and other forgettable eurotrash on the flashing neon glass floor of the local nightclub’s under 18’s night – no booze, just the palpable darkness filled with the pungent, thick air of hormonally charged adolescents, sweaty, smoky, entwined on the banquettes in dark-reaching corners.

    When a cooler tune came around, onto the crowded dancefloor came this group of four guys, who were a couple of years older than me. The Boy was dressed in black zip up trousers, Sonny Crockett RayBan knock offs and a faded Smiths t-shirt. They only associated with each other and didn’t appear to look at anyone else, an entirely closed unit. I had never felt anything like it; it wasn’t love, but I was incapable of taking my eyes off him. Of course he ignored me, but I went home, warm with this little fire that had been ignited inside me, liking this mysterious feeling and certain the world was now a changed place.

    I was painfully shy about boys at that age. I thought I looked kind of ok, but my self esteem about me, my personality was below zero. Awkward, with no what I considered to be trendy clothes, I didn’t have a clue who I was. I kind of knew who I wanted to be, but had no idea how or way of getting there. The boy was well aware I fancied him, how could he not be conscious of the gawky schoolgirl constantly in his periphery. So when he did finally acknowledge my presence by walking up to me and my friends one night that September and with two little worlds “night Sarah”, before sloping off again, he set me on fire.

    Due to aforementioned shyness, it took another couple of years for anything to happen and finally when he did ask me out, to say I was stoked was the understatement of the year. The destination of our date was a quiet country pub, where we sat around an upturned barrel with me drinking Bacardi and coke hoping I looked like I knew what I was doing. I knew we had nothing in common really, but I was so ill at ease with myself that I thought he was the cool one and it was me who had to assimilate towards him and his kind of crowd.

    A few ‘dates’ followed, with me always making the effort. I felt deep down he wasn’t particularly interested, but as girls often do and the women they become, push this to the back of their mind, overrule the famed intuition and find reasonable excuse for why the object of their affection isn’t returning it. I was seventeen and a half at this stage, still a virgin and wanting to get on with whatever I thought seventeen and a half year old girls should be doing. I’d read Judy Blume, I’d seen the agony pages of Blue Jeans and Just Seventeen from an early age where problems regularly started “I’m 17 and my boyfriend wants to sleep with me…”.

    So I waited a hefty 3 weeks. The act itself was denied any possibility of passion, being actually scheduled in for a Monday morning before college, at his house, so his mother would be out at work. I felt so utterly underwhelmed by the whole experience. I wondered where that little fire had gone, because wherever it was, it wasn’t there that morning.

    At first, I tried to convince myself it was exciting and mature to be ‘seeing’ a grown up guy in a non-exclusive arrangement – well it was exclusive on my part, but definitely not on his. The ‘relationship’ and I use that in the loosest of terms, lurched on for the next year or so, interrupted by me going away for the summer and him going out with someone else.

    And then from somewhere came a strength, or maybe it was finally my absolute realisation that nothing was going to happen, he wasn’t interested in me and if I looked objectively there was a reason. We weren’t compatible. The strange thing is I’d never considered myself really in love love with this person – I never imagined we’d end up together and nor did I want that really. A kind of lust, sure, but it was more than that without being love. A kind of power thing then I suppose, like “I’m going to get you to like me when I treat you so well, you’ll realise what a catch I am” kind of thing. You can’t make someone want you. I know that know, but not then.

    So I wrote him a letter, as I find writing a lot easier than speaking when in a confrontational place. I explained everything, told him I wouldn’t be anyone’s second best and that if he wanted me, it was to be exclusive and nothing else would do. But still I sort of prayed he would have a revelation and call me. I never heard from him again. A few years later at a new years party, he sought me out and looked at me intensely to see if there was any of ‘that look’ left and then he said he’d found the letter recently, to which I just responded “Oh, that letter” and then shrugged and walked away.

    When I think back to that time, I’m cross it would imprint itself on my soul forevermore, but the truth is it really has. Not specifically him per se, but the whole tangled mess of wanting to share something with someone else and hopefully have them reciprocate it with respect and love, only to be devastatingly disappointed.

    I felt wounded, scarred and emotionally unreachable, yet I was desperate to be reached. A domino effect was unleashed, that not only took its’ toll on me afterwards with the few ne-er do well guys that followed only to further reinforce that rejection, but has stayed with me ever since. I’m a doubter, doubting myself and my capabilities, doubting whether that person really likes me that much, making me scared to put myself out there and take a chance. I know everyone has to go through at least one not so good relationship, but I feel kind of cheated that after growing up in a very emotionally detached family, that I was then denied that first sweet taste from the chalice.

    I do believe there are happy endings, but they are rare and not destined for everyone. I wonder whether we need to ensure the young have a better emotional responsibility and understand that everything they do has a consequence, every unkind word, action that might get a laugh from friends at the time, is remembered and has the potential to cut deep into a person’s heart and soul, never fully healing, so that they carry that scar with them forever.

    • Such a very well written story & boy do I ever understand it!
      When you mentioned your emotionless sex with him, it reminded me of something I forgot to mention about my first time with Jason. The kid kept his t-shirt & socks on. I just remember thinking “is he in a hurry to get dressed & run out of here?” That is something that has stuck with me to this day. If some guy leaves his shirt &/or socks on, I actually say something about it.
      I guess I’m glad I learned that lesson, I’m just disappointed in myself that it took so many years!

      Thank you SO much for sharing your story with me. It helps me feel not so alone in this.

  3. camera_chica

    OH MY GOOOOOD!!! Mine never took his socks off either!! I found it kind of a turn off and thought it weird, but it didn’t occur to me it was because he couldn’t be bothered to take them off. He was very insistent he kept them on I remember, because I did challenge him about it. How bizarre. There’s no way you’re alone in this – there are tons of people out there who’ve been damaged in this way. TONS.
    Your story is way worse and it sounded like you’d really been through the mill by the time it started anyway and the bit about the offensive drawing just killed me – I felt my stomach drop and cheeks flush just reading it.
    I’m glad you’ve learned the lesson, but I feel it’s unfair that first love or first experience or whatever you want to to call it wasn’t positive on what were extremely delicate hearts in the first place. If we’d both had incredible, strong and loving family support, the effects might not have been so severe and long-lasting. Don’t know about you, but I do feel kind of cheated in that area. The old adage “you never forget your first love” – yeah, not always in the way you think…

  4. Supernatural808

    Wow!, that’s some story Jenn & u came thru, u may have been blind at the time. But…ur not now. Big Hug. 

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