"Love Hurts"
The theme for The Moth for February is "Love Hurts." Mick & I are both putting our names in the hat and working strategies out.
I've won twice - once for a story about being bullied in the fifth grade, and once for a story where I got really aggressive with a stranger at a free concert. This month is a rich one to mine. Mick's strategy is to have two stories ready to tell: a cute one and a painful one. One month, I got up to tell a cute-kid story right after someone else told a cute-kid story - I know I scored lower than if I had either gone first or if there had been another storyteller between us. I do better if my story isn't in the same vein as the others that same night. Obviously, all the stories are on the same theme, but people take very different approaches. Consider the audience - it is a very NPR-listener heavy crowd in Louisville. It takes a thick skin and strong nerves to get up there on that stage, squint into those blinding lights and bare your soul for five minutes.
I want Mick to win one month, too. He said he doesn't want to have to compete against me in the Grand Slam later this year, but honestly, I don't mind either way. Win or lose, I want us both up there.
I'm planning to tell a story from my freshman year of college - I was dating a guy that was a couple of years older than me. He broke things off by moving and not telling me - I found out when I called his dorm room and someone else answered. I got his new address from a mutual friend by issuing vague threats, and called the boyfriend. He confirmed that yes, he wanted to break up with me. I confirmed his mailing address and sent him some clothes he'd left at my house the last time he visited.
Before I sent the clean laundry, I turned everything inside-out. He'd forgotten a load of whites in the dryer so it was all underwear, t-shirts and socks. I knew how highly allergic to cats he was, so I scrubbed my cat with his clothing. I turned everything right side out, folded it neatly, boxed it and mailed it to him. He was excited to get the package and called our mutual friend to tell him. He was poor and that box contained nearly every underthing he owned. Our friend Jerry warned him he better not wear those clothes - I was so angry when we talked, he was afraid I might've done something. Patrick laughed it off and pointed out that he was not going to pass up freshly laundered clothes on Jerry's suspicion.
Two days later, his face was so badly swollen it bruised and he could hardly breathe. He finally took all his white clothing to the Laundromat to wash them. I'd lent him a stereo for the summer, and he was so angry he destroyed it with a crutch. He didn't realize it wasn't my stereo - it was my FATHER'S stereo. That fall, after we'd both moved back to Morehead for college, my Dad got the address of the trailer where he was staying and showed up to demand compensation for the stereo. Patrick offered his guitar to my father - he said it was the only thing of value he owned. Dad told him never mind and just left.
Anyway, I think I am going to share some variety of that story.
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I started writing this last month and I never posted it. I actually told the story about the second worst date I ever had - I was lured into this loser's basement by the promise of a bootleg VHS tape, and cornered by wolves. Mick's story was about a one-time date with a girl that worked at the Midas Auto counter. She brought her brother on the date - that lets you know how well it went. Neither of us won but it was a raucous good time!