Chapter 1
I've been obsessed with the concept of love since I was a little girl. I was the one who always wanted to play Barbies, and house, and imagine up this amazing life where I was blond, educated, and married to an amazing man. I used to lie in my twin sized bed at 12 and think to myself, "one day I'll have a husband to lay in bed with and cuddle on." Those just aren't normal thoughts for a 12 year old to have. My parents fought. A lot. About things that just seemed so stupid and irrelevant at the time, but now that I'm an adult, I get it. They don't really fight anymore. They've given up the fight. They're too old and too set in their ways. They've learned to ignore the things they can't stand about each other.
When I was 12 1/2 I learned of the first boy who ever had a crush on me.I was awkward at the time. Ratty, frizzy, straight, long, red hair, flat chest, skinny, and little budding pimples on my face.I was the sidekick to one of the most popular girls in our grade who already had the figure of a Playboy bunny by the 6th grade. I was content at the time receiving no attention from a guy. The boy who liked me was in a band with the boy I actually liked. The day before we went on winter break in the 7th grade, we were passing notes. After the 3rd pass of just stupid wise cracks and music talk, he wrote, "Do you have a boyfriend?" I felt my heart kick me in the ass for the first time ever. I replied "no." Hoping he was just asking for the hell of it and wouldn't ask the dreaded question. The note comes back, "Will you be my girlfriend? Circle one: yes/no" I didn't pass the note back. I sat in my chair for the remaining 26 mins sweating, blushing, and stressing. When the bell rang, I ran out the door so fast to my good friend and neighbor to tell her what just happened to me. We discussed all the reasons I could not say yes to him on the 20 min walk home. Then she opened her big mouth to my sister, which was immediately blabbed back to my mother and eventually my father. Then my mom asked, "what's this boy's name?" I dreaded that question too because my mother had a huge thing against Spanish people because of her NYC subway experiences as a young adult. "His name is Juan." "Juan??? Great! A spic!" To this day, my mother swears she is not racist because she smoked a lot of pot with Jamaicans in the 60's.
The phone rang and somehow Juan had my phone number. I apologized for running off and told him I had to think about it. Juan was a cool guy. He had just moved to our school from the Dominican Republic and was seemingly very intelligent. He listened to a lot of the same bands as me and was in almost all of my classes. I didn't want to make things weird, but I really didn't feel ready for a boyfriend yet and I had a huge crush on his friend.
Winter break ended and we came back to school. Juan and I didn't talk for a few weeks until one day in home ec we were sewing our stuffed animals. I was doing a raccoon and I saw that Juan had picked the most complicated animal in the book, a parrot, and was finished 3 days ahead of time. I walked over and told him I liked his parrot. He half-assedly smiled at me and said thanks.
Spring break came and I grew boobs in a 1 week period. Everyone thought I had stuffed because I went from a 32A to a 34B. I started getting more attention from guys. One day in Business class, my smoking hot friend Sabrina confided in me that she thought she had a crush on Juan. I became so angry instantly. Why Juan? The one guy who liked me. She could have anyone! I got so mad I went right up to Juan that day and said, "I like you. Will you be my boyfriend?" He looked as if he had just won the lottery. I came to find that Juan was actually a pretty amazing guy. He played just about every instrument, self taught. He wrote beautiful songs and poems; a lot about me. We held hands and did the crappy little middle school kiss thing before class. Then one day he walked me to my Health class and my friend was there and she goes, "kiss her! make out with her!" I had no idea what I was doing. Juan opened his mouth kinda wide and I made a kissy face and next thing I knew I felt a tongue in my mouth and there was drool around the lower half of my face. The next day I dumped him. I just wasn't ready.
By 8th grade I was heading into my bombshell phase. Sabrina had moved to Israel so I was no longer in her shadow. T & A were budding all over with zero signs of cellulite or stretch marks ahead. My biggest challenge was getting my parents to agree to let me wear short skirts and tank tops. With my sister leaving for high school every morning almost 2 hours before me, I was sneaking into her closet and grabbing anything sexy I could find. After the first block, on my route to school, I'd strip out of my baggy sweatshirt and reveal my tank top or dress. 3 days out of the week I dressed skanky. The other 2 I dressed grungey. I was mastering the art of being one of the guys while simultaneously making it very clear that I was most definitely a girl. Baggy pants, wallet chain, and a band t-shirt Tuesdays and Thursdays; short shorts and a tight tank top from 579 Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.
8th grade was all about appearances. You had to shop at thrift stores, listen to bands that were underground, Grunge was dying and you either had to go goth or punk/ska. I was having a hard time finding my place after it was no longer cool to listen to Nirvana. By the end of the year I was dressing more feminine and really getting into singing. I finally confessed my love to the boy I was in love with since the year prior one very late night on the phone. That night, he confessed it back and then never wanted to speak to me again the Monday after. Unfortunately, my sister stayed friends with him. This was a pattern that would follow us later on, again and again in life.
Chris transferred to our school that year after leaving a magnet program. He was my age, but was in the 7th grade because his mom wanted him in pre-K despite the fact that he was very smart. Chris was bizarre beyond words. He said and did anything on his mind. I thought he was annoying from the day I met him. Naturally, I won the spelling bee in my class and was sent to the cafeteria to defeat the rest of the winning classes. Spelling is my only talent in this world and other than remembering the right spelling for really large drug names and body parts, it has gotten me no where in life. Chris was at the spelling bee, along with Juan. It was also Halloween that day so I was dressed extra slutty. Chris sat next to me, and initially I wanted to move, but when I saw Juan sit down I thought, hey, why not have some fun here?? I had heard rumors that Juan had 3 different girlfriends over the summer. I didn't want him to think he was the only one who liked me still. Chris basically sat there the entire 30 mins drooling over my legs in fishnets. Then he said, "I'm gonna spell this next word wrong, and then you're going to too. Then I'm going to walk you back to class." For the life of me, I can't remember the word, but we did both spell it wrong and he walked me to class. All the while trying to put his arm around me and touch me while I slapped him.
After Kevin rejected me midyear, I turned to Chris. He was fun without all the cockiness Kevin possessed. He also thought I was beautiful and wanted to tell me a hundred times a day. One Sunday he walked the whole mall with my sister and I. I got to a fountain and said I wish I had a coin to make a wish. He shoved his whole jecketed arm into the fountain and pulled out a penny for me. I wished to find love. The next day was Valentine's day. Chris showed up to school that morning with a Cheshire grin on his face. He pulled into his khaki corduroy back pack and whipped out a heart shaped box of chocolates with snoopy on it. It was the sweetest gesture ever, even if they were more than likely shoplifted. Shortly after, we became boyfriend and girlfriend. It got complicated when he learned just how innocent I was and I learned how deviant he was. He attempted to French kiss me multiple times and I pulled away out of fear. After a week I was dumped for being too prude. Weeks later, a friend of mine threw a party at her house that I knew he'd be attending. Once again, glam it up, slut it up. Went with MY sidekick, Ashley. Chris and I made out that night 3 times. By the third time, I was finally catching on and had decided French kissing was amazing!!
Chris started getting into the habit of walking home from school with me. Everyone thought he was great. My sister, my neighbor, even my sister's bitchy half black friend who didn't like grungey people like ourselves thought he was adorable. Chris had the charm no one could resist. He used to say it was because he was French. Spring break came and Chris walked over to my house everyday. We'd hang out in my sister's room. She'd play guitar and I'd sing along to Hole and No Doubt songs. Somehow we ended up sharing Chris. At the time, it didn't seem wrong. We'd all snuggle in her bed, he'd turn one way and kiss me, then turn another and kiss her. Grab our boobs. A few times he tried to flash his junk. This whole sharing of a man thing would be yet another repetitive concept in my years to come. On the final 2 days of spring break, Chris revealed to us that he was moving next week to the west coast of Florida. I was devestated and heartbroken.After he moved, I came up with my big plan of hurrying up and finishing middle and high school and then moving to USF for college. There, we'd meet up, and go to college together and live happily ever after. The overplanning concept, would be, yet another failed motif in my love life to come.
When I was 12 1/2 I learned of the first boy who ever had a crush on me.I was awkward at the time. Ratty, frizzy, straight, long, red hair, flat chest, skinny, and little budding pimples on my face.I was the sidekick to one of the most popular girls in our grade who already had the figure of a Playboy bunny by the 6th grade. I was content at the time receiving no attention from a guy. The boy who liked me was in a band with the boy I actually liked. The day before we went on winter break in the 7th grade, we were passing notes. After the 3rd pass of just stupid wise cracks and music talk, he wrote, "Do you have a boyfriend?" I felt my heart kick me in the ass for the first time ever. I replied "no." Hoping he was just asking for the hell of it and wouldn't ask the dreaded question. The note comes back, "Will you be my girlfriend? Circle one: yes/no" I didn't pass the note back. I sat in my chair for the remaining 26 mins sweating, blushing, and stressing. When the bell rang, I ran out the door so fast to my good friend and neighbor to tell her what just happened to me. We discussed all the reasons I could not say yes to him on the 20 min walk home. Then she opened her big mouth to my sister, which was immediately blabbed back to my mother and eventually my father. Then my mom asked, "what's this boy's name?" I dreaded that question too because my mother had a huge thing against Spanish people because of her NYC subway experiences as a young adult. "His name is Juan." "Juan??? Great! A spic!" To this day, my mother swears she is not racist because she smoked a lot of pot with Jamaicans in the 60's.
The phone rang and somehow Juan had my phone number. I apologized for running off and told him I had to think about it. Juan was a cool guy. He had just moved to our school from the Dominican Republic and was seemingly very intelligent. He listened to a lot of the same bands as me and was in almost all of my classes. I didn't want to make things weird, but I really didn't feel ready for a boyfriend yet and I had a huge crush on his friend.
Winter break ended and we came back to school. Juan and I didn't talk for a few weeks until one day in home ec we were sewing our stuffed animals. I was doing a raccoon and I saw that Juan had picked the most complicated animal in the book, a parrot, and was finished 3 days ahead of time. I walked over and told him I liked his parrot. He half-assedly smiled at me and said thanks.
Spring break came and I grew boobs in a 1 week period. Everyone thought I had stuffed because I went from a 32A to a 34B. I started getting more attention from guys. One day in Business class, my smoking hot friend Sabrina confided in me that she thought she had a crush on Juan. I became so angry instantly. Why Juan? The one guy who liked me. She could have anyone! I got so mad I went right up to Juan that day and said, "I like you. Will you be my boyfriend?" He looked as if he had just won the lottery. I came to find that Juan was actually a pretty amazing guy. He played just about every instrument, self taught. He wrote beautiful songs and poems; a lot about me. We held hands and did the crappy little middle school kiss thing before class. Then one day he walked me to my Health class and my friend was there and she goes, "kiss her! make out with her!" I had no idea what I was doing. Juan opened his mouth kinda wide and I made a kissy face and next thing I knew I felt a tongue in my mouth and there was drool around the lower half of my face. The next day I dumped him. I just wasn't ready.
By 8th grade I was heading into my bombshell phase. Sabrina had moved to Israel so I was no longer in her shadow. T & A were budding all over with zero signs of cellulite or stretch marks ahead. My biggest challenge was getting my parents to agree to let me wear short skirts and tank tops. With my sister leaving for high school every morning almost 2 hours before me, I was sneaking into her closet and grabbing anything sexy I could find. After the first block, on my route to school, I'd strip out of my baggy sweatshirt and reveal my tank top or dress. 3 days out of the week I dressed skanky. The other 2 I dressed grungey. I was mastering the art of being one of the guys while simultaneously making it very clear that I was most definitely a girl. Baggy pants, wallet chain, and a band t-shirt Tuesdays and Thursdays; short shorts and a tight tank top from 579 Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.
8th grade was all about appearances. You had to shop at thrift stores, listen to bands that were underground, Grunge was dying and you either had to go goth or punk/ska. I was having a hard time finding my place after it was no longer cool to listen to Nirvana. By the end of the year I was dressing more feminine and really getting into singing. I finally confessed my love to the boy I was in love with since the year prior one very late night on the phone. That night, he confessed it back and then never wanted to speak to me again the Monday after. Unfortunately, my sister stayed friends with him. This was a pattern that would follow us later on, again and again in life.
Chris transferred to our school that year after leaving a magnet program. He was my age, but was in the 7th grade because his mom wanted him in pre-K despite the fact that he was very smart. Chris was bizarre beyond words. He said and did anything on his mind. I thought he was annoying from the day I met him. Naturally, I won the spelling bee in my class and was sent to the cafeteria to defeat the rest of the winning classes. Spelling is my only talent in this world and other than remembering the right spelling for really large drug names and body parts, it has gotten me no where in life. Chris was at the spelling bee, along with Juan. It was also Halloween that day so I was dressed extra slutty. Chris sat next to me, and initially I wanted to move, but when I saw Juan sit down I thought, hey, why not have some fun here?? I had heard rumors that Juan had 3 different girlfriends over the summer. I didn't want him to think he was the only one who liked me still. Chris basically sat there the entire 30 mins drooling over my legs in fishnets. Then he said, "I'm gonna spell this next word wrong, and then you're going to too. Then I'm going to walk you back to class." For the life of me, I can't remember the word, but we did both spell it wrong and he walked me to class. All the while trying to put his arm around me and touch me while I slapped him.
After Kevin rejected me midyear, I turned to Chris. He was fun without all the cockiness Kevin possessed. He also thought I was beautiful and wanted to tell me a hundred times a day. One Sunday he walked the whole mall with my sister and I. I got to a fountain and said I wish I had a coin to make a wish. He shoved his whole jecketed arm into the fountain and pulled out a penny for me. I wished to find love. The next day was Valentine's day. Chris showed up to school that morning with a Cheshire grin on his face. He pulled into his khaki corduroy back pack and whipped out a heart shaped box of chocolates with snoopy on it. It was the sweetest gesture ever, even if they were more than likely shoplifted. Shortly after, we became boyfriend and girlfriend. It got complicated when he learned just how innocent I was and I learned how deviant he was. He attempted to French kiss me multiple times and I pulled away out of fear. After a week I was dumped for being too prude. Weeks later, a friend of mine threw a party at her house that I knew he'd be attending. Once again, glam it up, slut it up. Went with MY sidekick, Ashley. Chris and I made out that night 3 times. By the third time, I was finally catching on and had decided French kissing was amazing!!
Chris started getting into the habit of walking home from school with me. Everyone thought he was great. My sister, my neighbor, even my sister's bitchy half black friend who didn't like grungey people like ourselves thought he was adorable. Chris had the charm no one could resist. He used to say it was because he was French. Spring break came and Chris walked over to my house everyday. We'd hang out in my sister's room. She'd play guitar and I'd sing along to Hole and No Doubt songs. Somehow we ended up sharing Chris. At the time, it didn't seem wrong. We'd all snuggle in her bed, he'd turn one way and kiss me, then turn another and kiss her. Grab our boobs. A few times he tried to flash his junk. This whole sharing of a man thing would be yet another repetitive concept in my years to come. On the final 2 days of spring break, Chris revealed to us that he was moving next week to the west coast of Florida. I was devestated and heartbroken.After he moved, I came up with my big plan of hurrying up and finishing middle and high school and then moving to USF for college. There, we'd meet up, and go to college together and live happily ever after. The overplanning concept, would be, yet another failed motif in my love life to come.