I have so many friends and family members who are dating pure bred idiots. You know, the kind of guy who makes you cringe and you realize it’s better to avoid said boyfriend all together so that you don’t find yourself going off and making a scene.
Of course, I have no room to speak. Once upon a time I dated my fair share of losers. Actually, it was more than my fair share. I now realize I was dating other peoples shares too.
Up until around 1993, I was pretty sure that it was every mans job to make their woman feel like total and utter shit. I had never had a faithful boyfriend, and finding one who didn’t feel the need to constantly beat my ass was close to impossible. Over the years, I just began to accept this as a fact of life. Part of the ups and downs of love. I remember crying with a friend once, and she told me to deal with it. Love hurts.
My very first serious relationship happened when I was a Freshman in High School. We had just moved to Florida from Puerto Rico and everything was so new to me. Especially boys. His name was Stacey and that in itself should have been a red flag for me. But noooooo. He cheated on me right from the very beginning with some poodle haired white girl named Jodi. I still hate that name to this day. Come to find out Jodi was good friends with his sister, Michael Ann. I made the mistake of trying to confront him about it and ended up getting punched in the face by Michael. Nothing quite as lovely as having your boyfriends sister take care of his dirty work. I immediately left him and that whole crazy clan alone.
After that, I was happy to be single. I really loved the single life. No boyfriend drama. No sisters and their friends. No black eyes. It was a good time for me. Shortly after I found my bliss though, my parents moved us to Georgia and I was once again the new girl in town.
This time though, it was a lot worse. Georgia was like a whole new world. They had accents and spoke a language I could not figure out. I had straight hair, a spanish accent and dark skin, and none of them knew quite what to make of me. Hell, I didn’t know what to make of me. My first day of school some girl asked me “where you be staying?” and I said “a house.” They all looked at me like I was an alien. I later learned where you be staying was Georgia speak for what part of town do you live in.
I guess my first non-date was with a guy named Garrett. He was a pleasant guy. Very quiet. My mother seemed to like him because he was very polite. Overly polite. He spoke such proper English I sometimes had to do a double take to make sure he was indeed black.
He came to my house one day after school to work on a project. We were sitting on the couch talking and he asked me where the bathroom was. I pointed him to it and he went on his merry way, closing the door behind him. About 15 seconds later, he opens the door and asks me where the light switch was, and I tell him. He insists he can’t find it. How the hell could he not find a damn light switch… it was the only thing on the wall.
I get up to show him and as I am reaching into the bathroom to flip it, he grabs my arm and pulls me in. He slams the door closed and turns into some octopus. His hands were everywhere, his tongue was assaulting my face. I was so freaked out. Ewwww. I told him to get off me. He backed up and then explained how he was so attracted to me. He wasn’t bad looking so I was flattered. I decided to try the kissing thing one more time, but yeah, he sucked at it so I had to end that.
As I was leaving the bathroom, he grabbed me from behind and hugged me. He apologized for his behavior and told me that isn’t who he was. He was just nervous. Once again, me being an idiot, I accept his bullshit and decided to give him a hug. The hug resulted in his octopus hands going crazy and us falling to the floor.
By now, I’m punching dude in the back of the head and he is dry humping me. I kid you not. He was humping my leg like a dog.
And then he began to moan, and announced he was “there”.
I had never seen or heard a man go “there”. But I was pretty sure “there” wasn’t something I wanted have on me. I quickly got up and screamed bloody murder. He looked pleased, but embarrassed. I told him to get the hell out of my house before I sent my insane Puerto Rican father after him.
As he stood up, I realized that Mister Goody Two Shoes had not gone there… Instead he had peed… All over himself. Thankfully none of it was on me or else I think I just might have gone and found my dad for real. I started laughing at him hysterically. I just couldn’t help it.
I left the bathroom and stood outside the door waiting for him to come out. I’m sure he was in there trying to figure out how to clean himself up so the world wouldn’t see his “leak”. He eventually came out, head down, grabbed his stuff and left.
Naturally I showered in the hottest water I could stand and then went about my day as if nothing had ever happened. For a few weeks after that my mother would ask about him and I responded with a sigh and the typical teenage “Moooooooommmmm!!” She finally got the clue that I didn’t want to talk about him.
Two months after that ridiculous day, Garrett approached me to once again apologize. He handed me a note and asked me to read it and keep it to myself. In it, he said he was sorry and explained that he was a virgin and thought that I was a woman of “experience” and maybe I could “help him” lose the Big V. I was so pissed I showed it to everyone I saw.
I still have that letter. And thinking about him makes me want to scan the shit and post it online.
I won’t though.
At least not today.
