“Court”ly Love

Court
“The more you ADORE a girl, the less likely she is to take you SERIOUSLY.”

Caution: The following is a fictional creative writing piece; not in any way autobiographical.

I always wanted to be a hero. I was never a jock or a super popular guy. But I never got sand kicked in my face either. I wasn’t weak; I wasn’t picked on. But I never knew what it felt like to be at the top of the heap either. Growing up, and especially all through high school, I never really stood out in any way. It’s not that I was a loser by any stretch; it’s more that I was never an anything. I was just another nameless face in the crowd.

High School

Listen, I’m not here to promote any high school stereotypes or to endorse any kind of social hierarchy. I’m not here to make you feel bad about your life or  to win your sympathy. I’m just here to tell a story–my story. Don’t read anything into it; I don’t intend this as a commentary on society. I’m not a satirist. I’m not a moral authority. And I am definitely never, EVER running for public office. This is just my shit life & I’m telling it like it happened. This is my story, so please don’t try to make this about you or your kid or the students in your high school. I’m not like that guy you know or the friend you used to know; I’m no one you would know. I’m no one you would want to know.

High school is such a formative time in a young person’s life. We all seem to go into it with this idea that “it’s the best time of our lives.” That we can have it all–good grades, be friends with the whole school, play the role of home town hero on our sports teams, land that first kiss . . . it’s all there for the taking. We all go into it thinking any & every one of us can win. If you’re a guy, just hit that growth spurt so you’re not one of the kids who gets stuffed into a locker . Wear the right clothes, work on your jump shot so you’re not the last kid picked in gym class. Do your homework. Be nice to your teachers. Make your parents proud. Hit the weights so you’re not a wimp. Kiss your first girl.

Caution: The following is a fictional creative writing piece; not in any way autobiographical.

Now this is what it’s like if you’re a guy. I’m sure things are equally difficult if you’re a girl but I’m not one. This is my story; not a girl’s story. Don’t think me insensitive but I don’t know what goes through a girl’s mind. I thought I did once but I was wrong. So please, before you P.C. me to death, just let me tell my story—not “her” story or “their” story but “my” story thank you very  much.

Everyone makes it sounds so easy. As if to say, “Well you’re in high school now. The world is just going to bend to your will.” The sad thing is, people build it up so much, at least they did in my time & from my point-of-view, that if you don’t have the world at your finger tips that you’re a complete loser!

Well, it didn’t take me long to figure out that I would be relegated closer to  loser status than  winner status. And it didn’t take much longer than that for me to give up trying to be a winner. I had two friends & a couple of girls who talked to me on a regular basis. Otherwise, I was good with everybody—had no enemies—but that was essentially my circle of intimates in school. Now, before you cry me a river, I did have a cousin from the next town over who I saw pretty regular who had a decent number of friends. So when there was a holiday or a big event like Halloween, my circle could get bigger to make it seem as if I were more of a winner. Then there were the three to five kids in my youth group at church who were close to my age. We’d see each other most weekends at Sunday school & exchange notes on the hierarchy at our particular schools. It was fun. We didn’t all go to my same high school so it was like having a different set of friends without the pressure of living up to a reputation that goes along with having friends from your own school in your every day life. But let’s face it—they don’t count. When it comes down to that every day life, I had two other guys I could count on to sit with at lunch & ride the bus after school with & go to football games with. Between those two & me that made three of us, which at my school, meant just a big enough of a crew to avoid getting your ass kicked by the top dogs.

Anyway, as I was saying, I gave up on being popular really early in the game. But I never game up on love. Yeah, I know—go ahead & say it. I’m soft. What guy states as a love as his goal? This will sound crude, but it’s accurate. Most of the guys talked about “getting laid” & getting this girl or that girl “parked.” The popular ones would date the prettiest or sweetest girl in school & then sleep around on her as much as possible. After a while, I couldn’t figure out if they were doing it for the sex or the status. They made fun of each other, & of me, when someone “fell out of line” & started getting emotionally attached. “You’re such a punk,” they’d say. “You’re whipped. You’re getting played out.” That would invariably be the retort any time jealousy got the better of one of the pack animals & pitted dog against dog when one of them crossed the line one time too many.

“What the hell is wrong with you,” they’d say to placate the jealous boyfriend. “We’re not going to fight over some girl. Remember the code. Bros before hoes.”

I know it will render me unpopular to say so, but it’s the truth, so I need to say it. I never slept around much. I was more the friend the head cheerleader would want to partner with for a class project. I was happy to be appreciated, but felt slighted that women very rarely saw me as a worthy companion–never saw me as a “real man.”

Long story short, I did have two long term relationships in high school. So what if they only happened my junior & senior years? I finally lost my virginity the night of my senior prom. I’m going to sound like a wuss for saying this, but it happened, so I’ll say it. I cried afterwards.

Oh, shut up! I didn’t sob rivers of tears like Justin Timberlake or anything. They were silent, trickling tears like saying “it’s just sprinkling” when someone asks if it’s raining outside. One of her friends had an after party. We managed to sneak into the guest room downstairs while everyone else was playing beer pong. The music was blaring down the hall but in the dim light of that guest room, it felt strangely silent as if time stood still. I wasn’t expecting us to go all the way that night. We had been dating for about three months by then, but nothing leading up to that night suggested how perfect a moment we’d share.  It would commemorate that night years later.

It was my senior year. In three months, I’d be off to college & my girl, a sophomore, would probably be homecoming queen in our tiny little middle of nowhere town. I would be hours away at college, but I knew it would be her who would grow tired of me before then. I had wowed her with my senior status & my second hand car; but by August, she would have outgrown me. I knew it then, but on that night, as she buried her face into my chest & I drew her close into my arms, I felt like I was king of the world. I cried because I had waited a long time for this moment; or maybe I cried because I knew it wouldn’t last. But right then & there, I finally felt love. I felt as though Sandra has completely accepted me—at least for moment. And that moment had been what I had waited all through high school for.

So this is what it feels like,” I thought.

 

To be continued . . .

Caution: The following is a fictional creative writing piece; not in any way autobiographical.

 

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s