Debauchery is not for everyone
November 7, 2002 - Debauchery is not for everyone
“I want to behave decadently,” Gwen stated. She does this from time-to-time. Make bizarre declarations that have no bearing on any conversation we’ve been having whatsoever. Like the time we visited the White House with my father and she randomly stated, “Burger King definitely has the best hamburger. We should make a pact to only eat there.” It’s like in her brain, she’s already reached old age so there’s no reason to bother with pretense and keep those scary thoughts to herself.
Mental note: Make sure to remind Gwen to keep those scary thoughts to herself by making little comments like, “That was out loud, you know” or “Hey freako, shut up.”
“Your idea of decadence is putting the recyclables in with regular trash,” I countered while exchanging looks with Nate. He totally agreed, but per some silent pact that we made when we became the Three Amigos (Three Stooges, depending on who you ask) back in the first grade, he didn’t back me up vocally. It’s very rare that he communicates anything vocally. It’s not that he’s a mute, but a guy, and in his mind, deep conversations about anything other than video games and Pamela Anderson’s breasts are like asking him to put on a dress (though I’d pay good money to see that).
You see, Nate is what you call a keep-the-peace kiss-ass. Of course, that’s not the technical term, but it’s much more definitive of his personality than some introverted extroverted personality type. Whenever there is some sort of discourse amongst his friends, family, random crazy people on the street, he steps into the role of Switzerland with perfect grace and awaits the end of the annihilation until adding his two cents. “Oh by the way, I totally agreed with Gwen about that nasty habit you have of using sarcasm as a defense mechanism. It’s not always cool, Linnie.” Even more annoying is that when he actually does choose to include himself in our highly-energized conversations (aka arguments) he will support his statements with evidence of our evil ways from ten years ago. It’s insane. I have trouble remembering what terrible things I did to him yesterday let alone a decade ago, but there’s Nate, still holding a grudge because I made his GI Joe date Skipper rather than Barbie. Unbelievable.
Sometimes I think I should dump the two of them and search for new friends, better friends, friends that understand the way world-weary girls such as myself choose to express themselves. But no, instead I chose a temperamental, new-age obsessed, artist (Gwen) and an apathetic, future President of the United States (Nate) for my life-long buds. If I took the time to think about it, I’d have to admit the truth. The truth is Gwen and I probably would’ve grown apart a long ago if it weren’t for Nate holding us together and the only reason that Nate’s still around is, because like me, he shares my philosophy on friendship: If you’ve invested years of your life in something, don’t go all Days of Our Lives and screw it up. Go with the flow…even when it seems impossible and you want to smother your friends with their new pleather jacket. Also, to be frank, looking for new friends would be such a hassle and don’t I have enough of those already?
“I only did that once and it wasn’t an act of depravity as much as laziness on my part,” Gwen paused and she took a huge bite out of her apple, spraying the table with the juice, and glared at me with each chew. I noticed the way the chains around her neck bounced with each movement of her jaw and wondered if they were clamoring to escape. Like maybe all tacky jewelry got together and decided that they would no longer be one of the symbols of avant garde wannabes, rappers, or Mr. T. (See, I’m as random and crazy as Gwen, but I have the good sense to keep it to myself!). I pondered this, keeping my eyes diverted to her necklaces to avoid her incredulous expression, but found myself meeting her annoyed look when she laughed under her breath at me. Ugh. Have I mentioned how crazy she makes me when she does that? She added snidely, “And what do you know anyway? It’s not like you’re a bad girl, Lynn Marie.”
“I never called myself a bad girl. I’m not the one making outrageous declarations like ‘I want to behave decadently’ now, am I?”
“That’s your problem, Linnie. You never think outside the box.”
“What box? There is no box.”
Gwen pointed across the table at me like I was the evil villain in a noir film being fingered for deflowering the young town girl. She said, “See.”
I raised my hands up as if I were a mime and motioned as if to escape from a box, “You’re right. Thank you for showing me the error of my ways.”
“Why can’t you be a supportive friend for once? Don’t I support you in everything you do?” When I didn’t respond, Gwen nudged Nate in the side, and said, “Don’t you concur?”
If I weren’t getting more furious by the second I would’ve laughed at the look on Nate’s face. It was the same look he got in the second grade when he peed in his pants while doing his oral book report and people referred to him as “Diaper Boy.” (Second graders are pretty perfunctory in terms of cleverness.) He smiled awkwardly from Gwen to me and said, “Why can’t the two of you act like normal best friends? Why must I always get dragged into some inane argument? I’m not your personal referee.”
I can’t be alone in thinking the boy deserves an Oscar for such an impassioned plea. Almost brings tears to my eyes.
He stood up and pulled his gameboy out of his backpack, despite the fact that they were outlawed at our school. He’s a total radical, that boy. Our principal decided that electronic equipment could not be used during school hours, but Nate and a few other social-retards-slash-gamers got together and decided to stage a protest because it’s like so unfair to like take away their right to Zelda, dammit! I tried to point out that it’s not a protest if only those four guys know what’s going on, more like sure-fire detention, but Nate dismissed me with a wave. He said, “I’ll see you both tonight when you’ve calmed down and can act like civil human beings” and with that, he stalked off, the sounds of bleep, bleep, bleep from his gameboy filling the cafeteria.
Never let it be said that Nate Haverly doesn’t know how to make an exit.
Let’s just say that Gwen did not want to heed Nate’s sage advice. Gwen gathered up all her litter. She looked at me, dumped it all, including her can of Diet Coke, into the regular trash bin and stuck her tongue out at me before slamming out of the back doors of the cafeteria.
It wouldn’t have been so bad if I didn’t catch my new lab partner witnessing the entire spectacle. When he saw that he’d been caught, he met my gaze, laughed to himself (AGAIN! What is WRONG with that boy???), and shrugged at me.
What does it say for you when you find yourself socially scolded by the biggest outcast ever?
And this was how my day went slightly awry. One comment about my friend’s lack of profligacy and suddenly I’m persona non grata in her life. Why can’t I be twenty-something and at the point in friendships where the only times people fight are over important things like differing political ideologies or hot guys? And even worse was the fact that Georgie Porgie was mocking me. ME! I’m used to the occasional crap-when my mother’s channel failed to report the snow storm last year, I found myself a magnet for every snowball in our fine city-but I had hit a new low.
It was Friday. It was supposed to be a great day. The bell ringing at two thirty was meant to signify freedom and fun, not the chime of doom. But Gwen was pissed at me because I defied her plans for rebellion, Nate was most likely in hiding until it all blew over, and my only potential plans seemed to be coming from the table behind mine where a freshmen was licking his lips in my direction and making obscene gestures. Lovely.
Is this freaking day over yet?
Please forgive me, but I need to go find a Septa bus to jump in front of.
Rebelliously yours!
Tah!
“I want to behave decadently,” Gwen stated. She does this from time-to-time. Make bizarre declarations that have no bearing on any conversation we’ve been having whatsoever. Like the time we visited the White House with my father and she randomly stated, “Burger King definitely has the best hamburger. We should make a pact to only eat there.” It’s like in her brain, she’s already reached old age so there’s no reason to bother with pretense and keep those scary thoughts to herself.
Mental note: Make sure to remind Gwen to keep those scary thoughts to herself by making little comments like, “That was out loud, you know” or “Hey freako, shut up.”
“Your idea of decadence is putting the recyclables in with regular trash,” I countered while exchanging looks with Nate. He totally agreed, but per some silent pact that we made when we became the Three Amigos (Three Stooges, depending on who you ask) back in the first grade, he didn’t back me up vocally. It’s very rare that he communicates anything vocally. It’s not that he’s a mute, but a guy, and in his mind, deep conversations about anything other than video games and Pamela Anderson’s breasts are like asking him to put on a dress (though I’d pay good money to see that).
You see, Nate is what you call a keep-the-peace kiss-ass. Of course, that’s not the technical term, but it’s much more definitive of his personality than some introverted extroverted personality type. Whenever there is some sort of discourse amongst his friends, family, random crazy people on the street, he steps into the role of Switzerland with perfect grace and awaits the end of the annihilation until adding his two cents. “Oh by the way, I totally agreed with Gwen about that nasty habit you have of using sarcasm as a defense mechanism. It’s not always cool, Linnie.” Even more annoying is that when he actually does choose to include himself in our highly-energized conversations (aka arguments) he will support his statements with evidence of our evil ways from ten years ago. It’s insane. I have trouble remembering what terrible things I did to him yesterday let alone a decade ago, but there’s Nate, still holding a grudge because I made his GI Joe date Skipper rather than Barbie. Unbelievable.
Sometimes I think I should dump the two of them and search for new friends, better friends, friends that understand the way world-weary girls such as myself choose to express themselves. But no, instead I chose a temperamental, new-age obsessed, artist (Gwen) and an apathetic, future President of the United States (Nate) for my life-long buds. If I took the time to think about it, I’d have to admit the truth. The truth is Gwen and I probably would’ve grown apart a long ago if it weren’t for Nate holding us together and the only reason that Nate’s still around is, because like me, he shares my philosophy on friendship: If you’ve invested years of your life in something, don’t go all Days of Our Lives and screw it up. Go with the flow…even when it seems impossible and you want to smother your friends with their new pleather jacket. Also, to be frank, looking for new friends would be such a hassle and don’t I have enough of those already?
“I only did that once and it wasn’t an act of depravity as much as laziness on my part,” Gwen paused and she took a huge bite out of her apple, spraying the table with the juice, and glared at me with each chew. I noticed the way the chains around her neck bounced with each movement of her jaw and wondered if they were clamoring to escape. Like maybe all tacky jewelry got together and decided that they would no longer be one of the symbols of avant garde wannabes, rappers, or Mr. T. (See, I’m as random and crazy as Gwen, but I have the good sense to keep it to myself!). I pondered this, keeping my eyes diverted to her necklaces to avoid her incredulous expression, but found myself meeting her annoyed look when she laughed under her breath at me. Ugh. Have I mentioned how crazy she makes me when she does that? She added snidely, “And what do you know anyway? It’s not like you’re a bad girl, Lynn Marie.”
“I never called myself a bad girl. I’m not the one making outrageous declarations like ‘I want to behave decadently’ now, am I?”
“That’s your problem, Linnie. You never think outside the box.”
“What box? There is no box.”
Gwen pointed across the table at me like I was the evil villain in a noir film being fingered for deflowering the young town girl. She said, “See.”
I raised my hands up as if I were a mime and motioned as if to escape from a box, “You’re right. Thank you for showing me the error of my ways.”
“Why can’t you be a supportive friend for once? Don’t I support you in everything you do?” When I didn’t respond, Gwen nudged Nate in the side, and said, “Don’t you concur?”
If I weren’t getting more furious by the second I would’ve laughed at the look on Nate’s face. It was the same look he got in the second grade when he peed in his pants while doing his oral book report and people referred to him as “Diaper Boy.” (Second graders are pretty perfunctory in terms of cleverness.) He smiled awkwardly from Gwen to me and said, “Why can’t the two of you act like normal best friends? Why must I always get dragged into some inane argument? I’m not your personal referee.”
I can’t be alone in thinking the boy deserves an Oscar for such an impassioned plea. Almost brings tears to my eyes.
He stood up and pulled his gameboy out of his backpack, despite the fact that they were outlawed at our school. He’s a total radical, that boy. Our principal decided that electronic equipment could not be used during school hours, but Nate and a few other social-retards-slash-gamers got together and decided to stage a protest because it’s like so unfair to like take away their right to Zelda, dammit! I tried to point out that it’s not a protest if only those four guys know what’s going on, more like sure-fire detention, but Nate dismissed me with a wave. He said, “I’ll see you both tonight when you’ve calmed down and can act like civil human beings” and with that, he stalked off, the sounds of bleep, bleep, bleep from his gameboy filling the cafeteria.
Never let it be said that Nate Haverly doesn’t know how to make an exit.
Let’s just say that Gwen did not want to heed Nate’s sage advice. Gwen gathered up all her litter. She looked at me, dumped it all, including her can of Diet Coke, into the regular trash bin and stuck her tongue out at me before slamming out of the back doors of the cafeteria.
It wouldn’t have been so bad if I didn’t catch my new lab partner witnessing the entire spectacle. When he saw that he’d been caught, he met my gaze, laughed to himself (AGAIN! What is WRONG with that boy???), and shrugged at me.
What does it say for you when you find yourself socially scolded by the biggest outcast ever?
And this was how my day went slightly awry. One comment about my friend’s lack of profligacy and suddenly I’m persona non grata in her life. Why can’t I be twenty-something and at the point in friendships where the only times people fight are over important things like differing political ideologies or hot guys? And even worse was the fact that Georgie Porgie was mocking me. ME! I’m used to the occasional crap-when my mother’s channel failed to report the snow storm last year, I found myself a magnet for every snowball in our fine city-but I had hit a new low.
It was Friday. It was supposed to be a great day. The bell ringing at two thirty was meant to signify freedom and fun, not the chime of doom. But Gwen was pissed at me because I defied her plans for rebellion, Nate was most likely in hiding until it all blew over, and my only potential plans seemed to be coming from the table behind mine where a freshmen was licking his lips in my direction and making obscene gestures. Lovely.
Is this freaking day over yet?
Please forgive me, but I need to go find a Septa bus to jump in front of.
Rebelliously yours!
Tah!