The awesome thing about things we shouldn't talk about... is they make the best stories. So here we go...
It was gorilla poetry day in my acting class. This assignment meant we had to go out into the world, without a stage or a mic or introduction, create a soap box and let loose for credit. For some, this is nerve wrecking and I'm not going to exclude myself from that bunch. I have my cynical performance technique that comes off confident but on the inside, its an earthquake.
As I'm running over lines in my head, about ready to walk out into a university courtyard to unleash my savage poetry on the studying community, I get a text from D-unit.
She was young, far too young for the relationship I had invented with her. Its the young ones who are dangerous; they bring with them foot prints you've already washed over and forgot about. She was fun though. She was the type that wasn't my type for once; eccentric, conservative, quirky. I remember the first night I spent with her, we sat up all night watching seasons of the Office. I guess her parents we cool with me staying over, and also with me smoking weed in her room ( both totally awesome at the time.) We were both respectful of each others space; mine, just getting out of a 3 year relationship with Whore #2- hers, just getting out of that 'lost virginity' relationship. So we just laughed alot, eventually falling asleep, and the next morning, as she walked me out the door, we had our first kiss. Morning breath and all its glory. I skipped all the way to my car. No exaggeration.
The text said, 'Hey, I just wanted to let you know that Ryan and I worked things out and I think were going to see if we can be together again. I'm sorry for leading you on like this. I hope we can still be friends.".... amazing. addition. to. nerves. Immature foot prints. I replied with a , "Thats cool. Hope everything goes well."- when I really wanted to say "DID YOU REALLY HAVE TO DO THIS RIGHT NOW! OUT OF ALL THE HOURS OF THE DAY, YOU HAD TO PICK THIS SECOND, THIS MINUTE!"... anyway, fuck it. She was 3 weeks of my life and had I invested anything more than a few kisses and some parties with her, those words might have came out. Instead, I just saw this as a great opening for my summer.
I worked at Jimmy Johns at the time. Infested with managers less intelligent than our cash register and tons... and tons of reemployed sexiness from previous summers. I had a fling with Vegas the year before hand. She was crazy beautiful from the outside; I loved her intrusive behavior. Always coming up to me and tying my apron seductively and shit. Amazing eyes... and by eyes, I mean ass. Short little spitfire. Anyway, she came back from MSU that summer and was looking better than ever. With my newly enhanced steeze, and my want to reignite what happened the year before, we flirted. But she flirted with everyone, and me, being the romantic, thought it HAD to mean something more with me... psh... Vegas. Looks delicious from a distance but once you get inside that craziness, all hell breaks loose.
You remember those times you got out of a relationship, but still had a 'bond' with the person, so you go back every once and while for a drunk sexcapade? Yeah... well, Whore #2 was still on that list. I still felt like we really had something going and had it not been for her semi-autistic chubby new boyfriend, we would still be together. So on one dark, intoxicated, lonely summer night, she called me crying. Talking about how her and retard were fighting and bla bla bla... and if I could come pick her up. Of course, I did. With all those lingering wants and all. I picked her up down the street from her boyfriends place because she didn't want him to see us. And, as expected, her boyfriend saw us. Decided to go in reverse down the road screaming that he would beat my ass and all these other jokes. It was whatever. I had his girl in my car, just like he had my girl in his car before. Karma, I thought. I was also pilled out of my mind so a fight would have been real sloppy and exhausting. Had to save that energy...
I took her back home, and we got it in. She was plastered, and I was numb, and me getting off was just not going to happen. The sex was vigorous and dirty, but thats how she liked it. After an hour of her trying to do what she could, I told her I needed a breather from that violence. I had forgotten how angry she fucked. Total boner killer. She went down stairs to get some water, she said, and then she would come back up and try to milk me. I closed my eyes for a second and woke up to no body next to me, my door wide open, and my phone playing Paper Planes by MIA. It was Vegas calling.
"Will you come pick me up please? I'm way out on gull road but I need to get out of here."
Of course, I said yes. After all, I thought I really liked Vegas. I still wanted her to realize I'm her type, or that I can whatever type she wants me to be. I put my clothes on, walked downstairs and Whore #2 was passed out on the kitchen floor. Ass hole naked with my pills spilled around her like a halo. I shook my head, made sure she had a pulse, and left.
Vegas got in my car and immediately started crying. It was sunrise and I was still groggy and sexually frustrated but crying is my Achilles heal. You cry around me, you got my full attention. She looked over and said "I dont know what to do... I just got raped."
I stopped the car half way down the street. I told her I was going to go up to that house and beat all of them with a tire rod. She persisted that I just go. So I did. I wanted to take her to the hospital or the police station to report it but she refused. She just wanted to go home. I'm assuming because she was completely lying about the entire experience.
I came back home, and Whore #2 was still on the floor. I woke her up and told her to put some clothes on before a really awkward encounter with my father happens. She slept for most the day, while I sat up writing hate poetry about what 'happened' to Vegas. One piece turned out pretty decent; anything about rape tends to hit the audience pretty well. But in retrospect, knowing it was all a pity front, I have retired that piece along with my attraction to Vegas.
That night, I drove Whore #2 to a school near her boyfriends place. We kissed and cried a little about the situation and how we wished things could be different and all that relationship aftermath bullshit... but then it hit me- I had picked her up from her boyfriends during a fight. And dropped her off away from her boyfriends place. And I started having flashbacks to when we were together and how many fights we had and how many times she got picked up by 'friends' or took my car to go somewhere else for the night and I asked her...
"Okay, I know what we did last night. It was fun. And I miss all that stuff. But can I ask you an honest question? How many times did you do this to me?"
She looked down as she grabbed her stuff and looked over with tears in her eyes and said
"Alot. In the beginning, alot with Jon. Then with Chris- but you had suspicions about that one. Then when Gino came back and yeah, I guess it happened off and on the entire time." .....
I sat in that parking lot for an hour and cried to myself. Through all the rampaging and floating from fling to fling in hopes to keep my self esteem up and my confidence going, I just got informed that the past three years of my life... were completely forged. I had been cheated on from beginning to end. Sometimes, while I was at my lowest. While I was in jail, or the psyche ward for attempting suicide... those horrifying memories grew into jokes in others minds. It was bad enough having to go through all those things, but then to know that I was being kicked from outside those cells and those walls too... was and is (most) the reason I will never
put my heart out again. This was the beginning to the end of my internal empire.
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