Sunday, August 21, 2011

Little Baby Drama

I hate drama. I really do. But somehow it follows me around, occasionally poking me in the shoulder and saying "hey, pay attention to me now". Like it does most teenagers. I don't know how most of you deal with it. Probably not like I used to- tell my parents and sister and dog everything and seek their wise guidance.


Well, I'm still telling the dog...

Anyway. There's probably a million and a half cultural references to times when teenagers seek advice from teachers or parents or siblings or friends and get brushed off. I figure I don't really want to bore or frustrate you with my examples, so I'll cut to the part when I start admitting all of my numerous faults to you.

It started in middle school. (It always starts in middle school). It was because of a boy. (It's always because of a boy). It ended continued badly. (It always goes badly). Basically, I was the shy flute player who had a flash temper and very few friends. Never got invited to parties- still don't. Never got in trouble- still don't. Much. Never got asked out, never got kissed or flirted with or even looked at for more than a second. And him... He was Mr. Unattainable. All the girls liked him. He wasn't a football player or a hunk, he wasn't rich or famous or anything like that. He was just... himself. I'm not going to hand out last names, but I can tell you his first was Nate. As for the football player thing, I think he wrestled. Hunk-wise, I think he's gorgeous even when his hair is cut like that, or when his nose is a little low on his face. Rich or famous? Yeah, right. We're Michigan. We're automatically broke and unknown. But he was amazing. I could go on and on about how amazing he was, and you'd all eventually start throwing up. But I will say this- he paid attention to me. Me! The aforementioned shy flute player who could never come up with a witticism at the right moment. Nate used to walk me to my bus in the afternoons- he rushed past my locker after the last class of the day down the hall to his, then dashed back in time to meet me, no matter how fast I went. He talked to me. Of course I fell for him. At first I was just flattered for the attention- but the more I talked to him, the more he made me laugh just by looking at me, the more I started reconsidering my position.

Bear in mind, it was eighth grade, and despite their liberal assurances, my parents are very conservative.

He was off-limits. It wasn't necessarily him- it was anyone who the term "him" applied to. And if I'd tried talking to them about a "her", then I would have gotten shipped to Antarctica or something. (They pretend to be tolerant, but they act different around gay people, and they would pretty much hate me if I was gay). Anyway. I was prepared to hide it, prepared to lie to them- which I never did in those days- for this guy. I would have done anything, and all he had to do was ask.

Problem was, he didn't.

And about two weeks before my birthday, he asked.

Someone else.

Lauren. I knew her, everyone did. She was the Miss Popular to his Mr. Unattainable. And she was a friend of mine. I don't know how that happened- I was so invisible I couldn't see myself in the mirror half the time- but she knew how I felt about him. And he knew how I felt about him. At least, I thought he did. I hoped he did. So you can see why walking toward the door at the end of a good day, waiting for Nate because I was ready first for once, but seeing him standing at Lauren's locker stroking her nut-brown hair and making her laugh, totally ruined the next two weeks for me.

Okay, so they ruined a lot more than two weeks.

In fact, that moment kinda ruined the past three years for me.

I've stopped crying about it, but it still hurts. You all know how that feels. Like you were worth something, like you weren't a waste of space- and then, all of a sudden, you were. The thing is, though, and I don't know if it's just how this goes or not- I can't get him out of my head. Not for four years- this is including eighth grade, too. And there was this... this magic to him. Even thinking about him, even writing this, makes me remember and want to smile or cry, and it makes my heart speed up and my mouth go dry and my whole self go all tingly. The truth is, ladies and gentlemen, I honestly think I didn't just like him.

I think I may love him.

Which is why this is such a problem.

If it weren't enough that he broke my heart and went to the other high school in town- we have three, which is really weird considering we're in the middle of almost nowhere- he moved a few months ago to freaking North Carolina. This would be an appropriate time for a facepalm, I think. Plus this guy has a fade-in-fade-out thing going on. I won't be able to get him you of my head for about a month, then I'll forget for about three and start looking at other guys, then he'll pop up on Facebook or something and I'll be hung up on him for another month. Just after he moved, I decided to friend him on Facebook- with a lot of pushing and shoving from my co-conspirator/best bud Cooper- and he started messaging me. Basically, the conversation went a lot like "Hi, sorry about eighth grade, wish things were different, wish I could see you again, wish we could be together".

Well, crap.

And it only gets worse from here.

See, freshman year I went to a brand new school, all new faces. Most of the kids from my middle school went to the other high school- I live right across from the rival one, so that's where I went. We got split up, so even if he'd cared about me, I didn't have a chance to try and win him back. I joined the marching band, which was probably the best thing that could have ever happened to me, ever, and bit by bit, I got over Nate-of-the-fantastic-smiles. There was another boy. (There usually is, right?) This one was probably the only guy I've liked since eighth grade who wasn't like Nate in one way or another. His name was Chirag- yes, an Indian. Who cares? He was into politics and debate, so we argued a lot, but it was all good-natured arguing, more like debate than anything else. He was funny, too, and we had a lot to talk about. He wasn't in the band, but he said all the time that he wished he was, and I persuaded him to pick up his trombone again. We were getting to be pretty close, and rumors at the school all reported that any day would find us an undeniable couple.

Then he tells us all that his parents have decided to move him to Arkansas.

Another facepalm moment.

What is it with me and guys who move away from me? Do I like drive them away or something?

Last year, right in the middle of February, he came back for a little bit, and we walked around the school and then around the neighborhood. He said he was looking for my buddy Cooper- but when he wasn't home, Chirag didn't seem to mind walking around with me. We talked for maybe three hours. Then he had to leave, and I haven't seen him since. He came back about two weeks ago for another brief visit, but I was at band practice and then at camp, so I don't know if he tried to contact me or not. And in the time since he left, I got a new phone and haven't had a chance to give him the number.

I either have great luck that I have a chance with all these wonderful guys- or horrible luck that they keep moving away.

So now we come to numero... um, let me figure this out, I've never taken Spanish... Uno, dos... tres! Number tres. This guy was... I don't know what he was, but he wasn't like Nate or Chirag. His name was Jeff. And he was a senior to my sophomore. Yikes! I didn't see it until after I made up my mind that I most certainly did NOT like him, but he had a few similarities to Nate. He plays clarinet, he's got bright green eyes, he likes Star Wars, and he can be very gentlemanlike at times. I think maybe that was the reason I liked him in the first place.

Oh dear. It's later than I thought it was.

I'll finish this up later. For now, I think that's enough juice.

Comment all you like- any advice is welcome!!!!

Where to begin...

So. Due to the fact that my life is totally drama-infected and complicated right now, I’m going to ditch the whole “suffering-in-silence” bit and shout out to the world via blog. For my lovely readers who love drama, continue, because there will be plenty of juicy goodness below. For those of you who don’t love drama but are vaguely interested in dry humor, I’m doing my best to please.

I guess half of the reason I'm giving this a shot is because I just saw Easy A. Say what you like about that movie, it made me laugh. So I'll start this blog off with a cliche and say there are two sides to every story. This is mine.

Enough with the cliches, I think.

The other half of the reason for this blog is- I'm looking for the answers to life. And the universe. And pretty much everything else. And I'm sorry, "42" just doesn't cut it for me. So while I sit here and type and post what I figure out, maybe somewhere along the way I'll get some gleaming gem of philosophy that will help me deal with my prime suffering years. In the meantime, I hope my many escapades, movie references, and occasional spaz moments amuse.

There. That's all I'm doing for an introduction. The rest you can figure out for yourselves as you read or don't read whatever comes next.