I don't always follow the Blogher.com curriculum, but this month, it seems to be flowing effortlessly. February's theme is love and sex. How original, right? Well, here it goes!
My newest craze is tea. I drink 72-100 ounces of tea each day. It is the craziest and easiest way to aide my weight loss, so I boil a huge pot of water each morning, add one green tea and one regular tea bag, and let it sit all day as I ladel cupfuls from it. Monday's I spend the day at the school volunteering. Monday are packed from the time I get there at 9:30 AM until I leave at 1:15 PM. I work the library, then head to lunch with both migits, and finally, I work the computer lab for Shay's class. I also needed to work in my visit to the "Y," so I decided it might be best to not drink anything until I got home from all that. The drinking literally makes me hang out near a toilet all day, since my bladder is no larger than a ping pong ball.
I walk through the door, and begin chugging. I had to take Chaz to speech therapy today, and from the time I emptied my bladder and got in the car, to the time I got to speech, about 9 minutes later, I HAD to go. I rushed in, took care of business, and washed my hands. It was at that moment that I realized that I had a flash back. No, not from my drug days. Rather, from the days right before those. His name was Max. Max was amazing. And sad. He had a horrific home life, and worked a lot. I was 15, and he was either 16 or 17. I worked a fair amount, and we got to see each other at work- McDonalds. He was attractive enough that I remember my mom even commented on his looks. Woof. Hot. He wore a ton of cologne. It was 1993. Guess what he was wearing--- Drakkar Noir. And why does this matter? The hand soap. It smelled just like that! I thought back to him coming over. I blushed thinking of what we did up in my bedroom. I can't believe my parents allowed me to have boys over. In my room. And that some how, the door was closed.
My best friend in highschool was a boy. When he came and we closed the door, it was to smoke. My folks were okay with him. But this hottie? What were they thinking??? (In all fairness, I doubt they knew the door was closed.) They were downstairs. And we.. well... we were not. We were just down. Ahhh... the memories.
And that was my first time to turn a boy down. Really. Not that I did that often, but I did that day. I was so in awe of his attractiveness, and that he would want anything to do with me. Ultimately, I did a horrible thing. I am ashamed to admit it, but I will. I went to his house, took a box of love letters he had written to me, and then, lit them on fire with gasoline on his front yard. I know his step dad beat the crap out of him for that. Within a year, I heard that he was living in a trailer with his pregnant fiance. He dropped out of school, and I never saw him again.
There were other boys I "dated" in high school. Like, the grill cook at Ernie's Steakhouse. I was 18, and he was in his twenties. He lived in a house with some room mates, and had converted a pop up camper thing. He wanted me to go "star gazing" in the roof with him one night. Somehow, I got out of there, however, as I was driving home on I-75, I got followed by some drunk boys that were running me off the rode. All the cars parted, and I was just trying to keep my 1988 Suzuki Samari on the highway, when out of nowhere, I see the cop's lights taking them off the road and I got home safely. I was shaking. Cell phones were not as prevalent at that time. I can only say that I am grateful for the policeman that night.
Once, I awoke in the bed of another friend. I was not fully clothed, and don't know what happened, but I know drugs were involved. *Kids- drugs are bad. Just say, "No thanks." Remember- I raised you with manners. I didn't have a car at that point, and the only person who had a car, was my best friend's friend. I snuck downstairs to a phone, called him, and the two of them showed up to get me home. I don't remember everything, but I do remember that the creep got a little "roughed" up. We were in theater class together for another couple of weeks, and he "acted" like he was a gentlemen. He really should have gotten an award for that job.
Ryan. Lord love a duck. He was overwhelming. He couldn't have been in greater puppy love if he tried. He was too good to me. My parents loved him. He just had this need to touch me. Hug me. He would stand behind me and hug on me, and that is how he chose to stand, or walk. It was like an act from Cirque du Solei just to get a drink. I felt like I was crab walking with two legs that we paralyzed. He just wanted to hug. After I treated him crappy and dropped him, I wanted to call his mom and ask him why he wasn't hugged enough as a child. Here's the kicker to Ryan- he had this pewter sword thing on a necklace he gave me to wear. One night, he was hugging me, (shocker, right?) and HE broke it in the embrace! I didn't have the heart to tell him it broke, so I super glued it. Over the course of the few months of this breaking/fixing cycle, when we broke up, I gave it back to him. Poor thing. He was furious that I had broken it. For the record, he was the only person that ever called me a racial slur- to my face. Today, I am sad that I was that Jew that spawned that anger. I could have treated him better. But I was smothered, young, and mad that I had to apologize for the necklace that he had broken himself. I hope he is happy and in a healthy relationship where he does not need to hug a girl to asphyxiation. Or, that he found the other half of his crab shell. Either way. I truly hope for his happiness.
And then, there's the boy I didn't date. He was my favorite. He was a true friend. When I wanted to be silly, which let's be honest, is ALWAYS, he was silly with me. When I wanted to paint my room purple and then paint a mural of Pink Floyd's "The Wall" cover art and infuse my Grateful Dead side, he was right there with me. From the worst acid trip of my life, to Clearly Canadian flavored water, he was my partner in crime, until I decided drugs and selfishness were more my thing than being a friend was. The truth is, his friendship taught me so much. The only relationship in my life that has been treasured more has been my love with Geoff.
I have told Geoff that I was a horrible teenager. He knows. My mother shares those stories freely. From running away and drugs, to lying, hurting everyone near me, to today, I realize that I can not apologize for the person I was, but I can make choices now to be a better me. And from all those "loves," I had at some point early on, I learned how to love the right way, and to share it with the greatest gift G-d has even blessed me with, Geoff. Babe, for knowing me, and loving me in spite of it- you make me beautiful. Thanks for supporting my newest endeavors, and for making believe I can do this. I love you face.