>Love, Take Two: The Bad Girl

>(10/29/93)
I am so ecstatic!!!! You wouldn’t believe what happened today at about 3:30 or 3:45. (I was so anal retentive, which, now that I’m doing this, is kind of a fun thing.) Jacques asked me back out! Of course I said, “YES!” We’ve been flirtatiously beating the shit out of each other for quite some time. (Note the last sentence. The words “Flirtatious” and “beating the shit our of each other” should not be used in the same sentence. But yet again, I thought that this was okay. It was like grade school where the boy likes the girl so he pulls her pigtails. This time the boy liked the girl so he accidentally set her hair on fire while flicking his lighter in front of her face, or heated up her metal ankh necklace with his lighter and then accidentally dropped it on her chest where it left a scar, or burned the back of her hand with a lit cigarette when she said something he didn’t like as they walked to Taco Bell for lunch during rehearsals for the school play. Of course, these events did not occur close together, so I did not make the connection. For the most part it was a slap on the butt, or we would punch each others’ arms or something like that. Almost as if we were buddies instead of boyfriend and girlfriend.)

(10/30/93)
Yesterday I was so happy, so why am I so sad today? I can’t help but think that Jacques only asked me back out to prove to his parents that he can keep a commitment. Another thing, I told him the other day that I didn’t care anymore my “I’m gonna be a virgin until I’m 18” bet anymore. (A bet I made with my sister’s ex boyfriend who, consequently, used to beat the crap out of her. Hmm . . I sense a pattern emerging. But over all, it was my sister’s ex-boyfriend, so how the hell would he know if I lost the bet anyway. To be fair, there was little else standing between virgin me and a popped cherry. I was in love and I was ready, at least physically, if not emotionally.) And maybe that’s another reason . . . If that’s true, then I’m ending it ASAP, because that’s shitty. (I pissed and moaned all this time about wanting him back and then I make this claim of false bravado and say I wanted to end it. I no more would have ended things than I would have killed myself, which I tried to do later. Thank god I was half-assed at it.)

(11/6/93)
I went to Jacques’ house on Friday instead of the game. Me & Jacques, Andy & Amy all hung out. Amy & Andy went to explore the mountain and Jacques and I started making out in his two-person hammock. It was hilarious! (Because we almost fell out.) . . . When we had to leave Jacques said, “I really do love you and that’s why I asked you back out, not just for sex so don’t even think that.” (Apparently I had told Amy that I thought this was the reason and she must have told Andy, who then told Jacques. It was my own little relationship phone tree.)

(11/10/93)
How the hell are you, meadows? (Line from The Pirate Movie, which is awesome!)Jacques and I fought last night. He’s really afraid that this stalker is going to hurt me, especially now that he knows I’m going back out with Jacques. (A very legitimate fear, as it turned out. But at the time I wasn’t afraid.) Jacques is also afraid that he’ll get really mad one day and not be able to control his temper and he’ll hurt me physically. (These are some more of the things one forgets as time takes it’s toll. I forgot that he was always voicing his fears that he was going to hurt me. And it should have been a red flag and I should have run away. But back then, because I was a moron I wasn’t afraid of him telling me that, either. He also told me that he was going to be worse than Charles Manson, that he was going to kill a lot of people and then kill himself. Yep, a regular Casanova, if Casanova was a homicidal, drug-addicted, teenager.
OK wait, I am exaggerating a little bit for effect. Even though the physical threat was real at the time, and he had hurt me on occasion, usually it was by accident. Jacques weapons of choice were his words, and he wielded them with a preciseness and vigor that defied his years. His words cut me a thousand times deeper and left scars that took much longer to heal. He broke me. And so I stayed put. But I had my own arsenal. In fact, this journal entry continues with me asking if he’s going to dump me and then telling him that if he does I might just die. Anyone up for a friendly game of emotional blackmail?)

(11/14/93) The depth of my soul has no title
In the silence of solitude i
stare at the wall
in front of me, no
seeing anything
but pictures
of memories
displayed upon
it’s white, luminescent surface i Vocabulary word!
tried so hard
not to let myself care
about you i If I run the lines together it seems more artistic
tried not to feel but
rather to watch you
out of someone else’s eyes,
a stranger’s eyes all
because i didn’t want to get hurt
i The cheese stands alone
was afraid that my heart
might finally shatter
if stepped on on last time but
i couldn’t stay
indifferent to you i
couldn’t pretend not to
care
when deep inside i
love you more than i’ve ever known
ever will know
in my life i
cant keep lieing Yes, I did really spell it this way.
to myself just out of fear all
i ask is that
you
don’t hurt me again because
if you did,
i don’t think i could
take the pain.
Apparently I wasn’t always the English major/Grammar & Spelling Policewoman I became. It is truly embarrassing.

(11/14/10)
(Here’s where it starts to get a little risque, people, so those of you with innocent minds or anyone related to me might not want to read further. This is relatively tame but still, I think we all know where this is going, right?) God, I am so happy!!! On Saturday night I spent the night at Amy’s house. We snuck out around 11:30 and met Jacques and Andy. We got back around 1:00-1:30am and Jacques and me (Jacques and I!) were in Amy’s room and Amy & Andy were in the den . . . I turned out the lights. He pulled me over to the chair where he was sitting and we started kissing. We were totally going at it. We ended up on the floor, him on top. Then he pulled me to a sitting position and started taking off my shirt . . I helped him. Then his shirts came off. He had on 4 shirts. Then we were back on the floor, and the feel of his bare skin on mine was so rad . . . (Yes, I actually said that. I said that making out was “rad”. Dear god what have I done . . .)
We didn’t even have sex or anything like it. (Fooled ya, didn’t I? I also happened to be on my period, which I’m sure you all wanted to know. It was probably the only reason I was still a virgin when I woke up the following morning. TMI, I know, but a vital part of the story nonetheless.)
Jacques told Andy that he wouldn’t have sex with me or anything like it because that’s all everyone thinks he’s out for. But, he said that if something were to happen, then it’d definitely be AFTER Christmas break. He respects me too much. (Insert laughter here. I honestly don’t know how much ‘respect’ had to do with it. Maybe it was his way of saving face since he he spent the night with me and didn’t get any. I really thought it was respect at the time, but looking back, I think that my female cycle had more to to with the lack of pelvic time than respect.)

(11/15/10)
[Jacques] told me tonight that I remind him of music groupie girls . . . I can’t believe he said that. That stung so bad. He doesn’t believe me when I tell him I love him. Why doesn’t he believe me? (This happened a lot, as it turns out. I didn’t really notice the pattern at the time but from my current vantage point I can recognize that every time we did something new, crossed some imaginary line in our relationship, like spending the night together, every time I lied to my mom so that I could see him, every time things got a little hotter and heavier than the time before, Jacques would be a total asshole to me for the next few days. He would start to wonder if we should be together and as he wondered he would treat me like dirt.
At the time I blamed myself. Maybe I wasn’t good enough. Maybe I said or did something wrong because of my inexperience. But now I don’t think that was the case. I think Jacques felt guilty because everything we did pulled me a little farther out of the box he had constructed for me. In his world, and to his parents and friends, I was a good girl. I was in honors classes, I got good grades, I was an artist and an actress, I had friends, I didn’t do drugs (for the most part), and I didn’t drink (usually). But whenever we took things past just plain old making out, Jacques mind couldn’t catch up with his teenage libido and he ended up feeling guilty for what we had done. And so he punished both of us.
I say “what we had done” because I was 16 and I was hormonal and to be completely honest there were times when there was nothing I wanted more in the world than to get down and dirty with my man. Of course, I couldn’t admit it to him, because that would be slutty and he would probably have no qualms about telling me just that.
Teenage girls are as bad as (and in the case of my friends, worse than) guys when it comes to sex. We think about it, we talk about it, we want it. The only difference lies in the circumstances surrounding the occassion: girls usually want love and a relationship before they give it up; guys just want someone willing who isn’t a hosebeast.)

~ by selifinos on May 23, 2010.