|This is the One With Brothers, Mothers, and Others||10/24/2006|
The episode with Punch disillusioned me a lot when it came to males. Not only did it make me aware of the fact that they could be thoroughly disgusting, it also made me aware of the fact that my butt would forever be a big drawing point for them. The other thing that further disillusioned me happened before the Punch debacle, in the sixth grade. It didn’t really effect how I saw males, only how I saw myself in relation to males. I had this “friend” A, who was boy crazy (and from what I hear these days, as my girl Vivica Fox says, a bonified ho), and who, by most people’s standards, wouldn’t be called a friend at all. She’s like the woman in Bridget Jones, the edge of reason, a jelly fisher. Her sole purpose in life was to make herself the most important girl in her click of friends by putting everyone else down in every way imaginable. No one’s handwriting could be prettier than hers, no one could date a cuter guy than she dated, no one could have a conversation with her that didn’t revolve around her in some way, and if you committed any of these cardinal sends, she would sting you. Above all, don’t ever disagree with her.
I believe the incident in question happened when she asked me for advice on which guy to choose, Preston or…what was the other guy?…I don’t remember. Anyway, she asked me which one, I said the other guy, and she chose Preston. I could really care less but when she passed me a note saying who she chose, I told her exactly what I thought, that she’d made the wrong choice (I was right, of course, Preston didn’t last long, and what’s his name was lost to her forever). Some other girl got involved and starting telling me in notes that I should mind my own business. Don’t ask for my opinion then, back and forth, until A writes, “you should be the one to talk when you spend all of your time writing letters to boys who will never like you, who don’t even know you.”
It’s very interesting. Here I had dictated A’s entire love life by being the author of just about every note that she’d ever given to a guy, ever, and she had the nerve to criticize me for doing her a big favor. It suddenly occurred to me that I was the type of girl who looked marvelous on paper, but the charm was lost in translation from paper to presence. With Punch, however, I found the missing word that would make it all make sense: assets.
I stopped writing letters for a long while after the debacle with Lorenzo. I’d wrote Lorenzo a letter, whereabouts still unknown, and he “answered” with some story about basketball season and needing to focus on his little eighth grade game, and an odd passage about coke bottle glasses he used to have to wear. Anyway, Ashley (not A) presented him with the letter and found out he hadn’t wrote it (and that he had horrible halitosis). I’d reached my humiliation threshold in the letter department and gave it a rest.
Between eighth grade and ninth grade I spent my very first summer at Horizons-Upward Bound, a summer program that provided me with the opportunity to get a headstart on school and make my academic success even more assured. That summer, my life was again changed by the likes of my very first, and far from last Brandon. I met Brandon and I liked him immediately. He was so much fun, and such a flirt. He would see me and say things like “Damn you sexy as hell” or “you fine as hell” or I was something “as hell.” He spent a lot of time making sure that I knew exactly what he thought about everything. I still talk to this Brandon occasionally. I like him a lot as a friend.
There was another guy I had a huge crush on, but he got embroiled in a nasty little affair that ended in five expulsions from the program and one mercy save. It all involved late night hook-ups, sneaking into the opposite sex’s dormrooms, etc. It was going on for weeks before they were caught, at the end of the program. One senior was expelled from the program along with my crush (another freshman), his friend (also another freshman), and two freshmen girls. In the winter, two of my senior guy crushes left me cute messages in my book, one that caused controversy when Doctor got mad at me because Quake gave me his phone number. He probably thought I was someone else, I don’t know who. But Doctor needn’t have bothered; it wasn’t a real number.
Freshman year of high school, way too much happened for me to go into in this entry. HE played the biggest role in it when I saw him the least. During the summer, I saw him on the weekends, and our relationship was nice and civil. I walked the whole East side with my best friend looking for him. Because I had moved a few weeks after sixth grade started, I no longer lived across the street from him. My aunt moved into my old house, and My grandmother lived across the street to the right of my aunt. We would sit on either my aunt’s porch directly across from him, or on my grandmother’s porch kitty corner, and talk while watching him and all of his friends doing the things boys do during the summer.
When I was thirteen ( I almost forgot to mention this), I flew to Florida for the first time to visit my aunt who had moved to Florida. I met Chris there. Chris was very cute, light skinned, with light brown eyes, and the most charismatic guy I had every laid my eyes on, aside from HIM. I also met Matthew, a very nice looking young man indeed, very quiet, and with the sweetest personality anyone could have. The only problem was they were both smitten with my cousin. Chris eventually realized he didn’t have a chance and ended up going elsewhere. Nowadays, I heard he was in prison because of possession of Meth. He wasn’t selling it, he was on it, which was a complete shock to me. I’ve never known anyone who used Meth, and all the Meth addicts on TV are always white, and made to look like people I should be sympathetic for. I guess it never occured to me that black people would have a problem with it. Matthew faired a lot better for himself. He took his rejection like a trooper, and they remained friends. They graduated from college together this past May. I hope life works out well for him. (Matthew, call me!)
Well, that’s enough for today. Tomorrow will be Destiny’s Brother, the Brother from this title, the mother() from this title, and a lot more of HIM than was in this entry.
Matthew, seriously, call me, ***Matthew, don’t call me. Mr. Perfect is not about to have that, and I am no longer interested! But I still hope you have a great life!***