Hazy Daze eNtRy 2

I have always been somewhat of a progressive thinker. In my entire life I could never understand how a skin color could make someone more, or less superior… and I always believed that equality was a basic right to all walks of life.

Then more recently this whole #metoo movement started hitting the headlines. My first thought was that I always believed that it was common knowledge that women slept their way into fame and fortune… not that I felt it was right, or ok… I just thought it was common knowledge. I mean how many times have you heard someone say “Who’d she Sleep with to get that gig?”

It really got me thinking… I started paying closer attention, how the middle aged men would say creepy things to the cashier at work, or the guy inline at the bank hitting on the poor girl, just trying to do her job. The comments guys would make on social media.

And then it hit me even harder when I began to think of how I had even contributed to this mass objectification of women.

When we were kids our parents always stuck together… there was no getting a yes from one… if the other didn’t agree. They were a team, that never really fought, and always put us kids and their responsibilities first.

My Father always went out of his way to treat my Mother right, flowers, and presents, candy. He taught us to do the same.

Our neighborhood was a quite typical middle class neighborhood. At the same time it was pretty rough. It was a normal occurrence to see our friend’s older siblings walking up to the girls our age and call them flat chested, or make some kind of lewd remark.

As we became preteens, it was normal to see a guy in the neighborhood walk up to girl and give her a “titty twister” grab her breast, or even say “Give me a blow job” Soon we all did this kinda thing. I just thought that’s what you did.

Entering my late teens I started to come to my senses about acting this way. It brings me shame to think back to that time, to realize that I could have been so blatantly ignorant. To think of it now really helps me see what a huge problem, and how deeply engrained in our society it is.

I have always done my best to be respectful of women, and all people. I would like to think that my actions were innocent, grabbing a boob, or a slap on the ass… and even though I was a young kid… I should’ve known better.

For any, and the many stupid things I did, I wish I could apologize. More than that, I could only hope and pray that none of my actions or words, have impacted anyone in away that they were deeply affected by my immaturity, and ignorance.

Before I start this segment, I just really needed to say that. I believe in equality… and if you cannot see the impacts of inequality all around us… you need to open your fucking eyes.

When I was in third grade there was a girl in sixth grade that I had a crush on. It’s funny how I can’t remember last week but I can still remember her name. I had passed her in the halls, and seen her at lunch, but never talked to her. So when I say I had a crush, really I just thought she was pretty.

One night I had an amazingly stupid, but fairly courageous idea to write her a note. I can just picture myself back then… like noooo you dumb fucker, don’t do it. I have absolutely no idea how that note read, but knowing myself, if I had to guess it was probably something in the way of “ I think your pretty, I like you, do you want to be my girlfriend?”

I barely slept that night. The butterflies gnawing at my insides, I lay half awake… dreaming of the things we’d do together. Walk, hold hands, maybe even kiss.

When lunch finally came I kinda chickened out, I gave the note to someone at her table and asked them to pass it to her. Then waddled my chubby little butt back to my seat. Pretending to be busy eating, I glanced up just long enough to see the kid I gave it to pointing at me, and her unfolding it. “Oh God” I thought, what did I do?

My heart was racing, I could feel the redness creeping over my face. I felt dizzy, and just wanted to disappear. In the next moment, I was almost startled by the roar of laughter I heard. I looked up to see her entire table looking at me and laughing.

Seconds later the entire lunch room had become keen of my loving endeavor. Without a clue of what to do I spent the rest of that day, and the next few, looking at nothing but the ground… hoping no one would notice me.

You would think that embarrassing situation deterred me. Nope, I bounce back pretty quickly, and spent many more years writing notes, spilling my guts before the feet of an abundance of unlucky ladies.

It’s weird to think now how it has affected me, but my first sort of sexual experience was at a very young age. Don’t worry it wasn’t like a priest stuck his divine digit in my butt, or some weird shit. I wasn’t left reeling, confused and scared… as far as I can remember, I rather enjoyed the experience. Left only wanting more.

The problem was, I hadn’t even begun kindergarten yet. Maybe I’m wrong, but that’s kinda young to be opened up to the world of sexual experiences.

For obvious reasons, I won’t go into too much detail, I really only remember certain things. The girl was about two years older than me… I can recall the early morning sun barley breaking through the blinds. We were just hanging out in her room when she looked up at me, and asked if I wanted to play house. “Sure” I’ve played that before.

I guess I’d been playing it wrong because she then pulled me into the closet, and began removing her clothes. Then kissed me, and helped me remove mine. We then laid in the closet kissing and exploring each other’s bodies. I was more nervous about being caught than anything.

As I’m writing this I stop to question myself, Why expose something so awkward and personal? I think because that moment, at such a tender age, helped to define how I viewed love and relationships for a very long time. I thought that love and relationships meant just picking someone, and getting naked and touching each other’s private parts. It kinda is, but there’s a lot more to it than that. Also, when I think of it now… that little girl didn’t just know that stuff. Somebody had to teach her.

I was too young to understand that sexuality was a thing, I understood a feeling… a very good feeling… and I wanted more of it. So we’ll just say… like a puppy that had just discovered his tail… I spent a lot, a lot a lot of time chasing my tail.

After some more years of fiddling around, and strange experiences, it was the summer after 6th grade and I found myself with a better understanding of what went where, in a tent with two girls. Alright … before you start trying to high-five me, let me explain.

My parents let me have a sleepover with one of the girls from down the street. She was like family… and the type of girl that would knock me out if I tried anything funny.

When the sun went down I had a great idea. I told her that we should get her friend Sally from up the street to sneak out, and come hang with us in the tent. Sally and I had shared a kiss before, and she liked me… I liked to kiss. She lived with her uncle who was super strict, and didn’t let her out of the house much, So I never really got many chances to see her.

Before I knew it we were all laying around in the tent, and my friend was asleep… leaving Sally and I alone, kind of. I don’t know if I really liked her, but she was very well endowed for our age, and she liked me… so I guess that was enough.

I can’t pretend that I wasn’t nervous, and I definitely only understood the whole process by what I’d been told, and seen in stolen magazines. Neither of which turned out to be very good resources. I was kind of in awe of the whole situation. Was this really happening? Every once in a great while, the universe removes all obstacles, slaps you on the ass and says “Go get ‘em tiger”

Well apparently… this was not one of those times. Just as I became a man… I asked Sally if she was ok. Obviously I had no clue what I was doing and I wanted to make sure I wasn’t doing it wrong. As I asked again if I was hurting her… “ I cannot Fucking believe you!!!” It turns out my friend was not sleeping. She stormed out of the tent and headed toward her house. Cursing me out for doing that in front of her, and telling me that her dad was gonna kick my ass when he found out. He would too, and I knew that. I chased her, and pleaded, begged, and begged some more. Just when I thought my life was over… she came back. Sally was long gone, and actually I didn’t really see her much after that. It turns out the story spread pretty quick, and it gave me some pretty good street cred, unfortunately it gave her the reputation of being easy, and the vultures honed in. She wasn’t a slut, and I wasn’t cool. We were just two curious kids doing what curious kids do.

When I reached middle school I wasn’t anymore confident, I had been through a few, what I considered phone relationships. Back then we didn’t have cell phones so we would spend hours talking on the phone. I was a nice guy, and a good listener too, but when we would finally meet up… the girls would remember that the nice guy on the other end of the phone was a fat kid, and bail out.

Through one of my flings, I became best friends with Jane, who was the step sister of the girl that dumped me. Jane was in 10th grade, and she was gorgeous. Every guy wanted to be with her. She was petite, curvy, had big bright eyes, and a smile that would stop you in your tracks. Jane was also my best friend’s older brother’s girlfriend.

Jane and I became close pretty quick, we hung out a couple times a week, and talked on the phone a couple times a day, sometimes for hours. She would usually go on and on about her boyfriend, she was infatuated with him. And I was happy to listen because I was infatuated with her. She told me about everything, her sex life, her child hood, everything.

On one occasion she was really upset, she felt that her boyfriend was cheating on her. Not really knowing what to say, I did my best to console her, and reinforce that it was probably all just in her head. The next day, riding my bike home from delivering papers, I saw her boyfriend with another girl.

Now where I come from, and where most of us come from for that matter… Snitches Get Stitches. To make matters even worse, if I did tell her… he would for sure murder me, and it was my best friend’s brother. She was my best friend too though, and I had an enormous crush on her, so I spilled it. I told her, I had seen him.

Of course she broke down, cried on my shoulder for days. Even though she was so mad, she didn’t break up with him. That week when I road my bike the 7 miles to her house, I was excited like always to see her.

When I road up she was already outside smoking, back to her bubbly self, that nervous, infectious laugh, ringing through the air. “I can’t fucking believe him!” She went on and on for a couple hours, I could have listened to her for days. As the dark started to roll in, regrettably, I knew I had to go.

After one last smoke in the driveway she looked at me and kinda smirked “I wanna get him back” I’m pretty sure I could hear my heart thumping outside of my chest at this point, as I managed to find the breath to ask what she meant. She inched closer “Kiss Me!”

I had never up to the point experienced anything like that. Her kiss, was so powerful… I swear I died for just a second. Only to come back reborn, and see stars. In that moment a crush became something more. And As I watched her walk away, I had no idea that… that something more, would evermore be my downfall.

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