Wednesday, September 03, 2003

My Historic (or should I say Hysteric?) Love Journal

When I was home recently I found my 9th grade journal.
It was floral on the outside and the inside cover was full
of "memorable quotes" from songs and various people
of historical note. I can't remember any of them or why
I chose them.

For pages upon pages I wrote about three guys from my
small town life. For blog's sake I will label them A, B and C.

A: I was wildy, crazy, madly in love with A. He was smart,
a great writer, he was witty and wise beyond his 9th grade
years. He was a challenge for me in more ways than one.
I liked him, wanted him to kiss me, be my boyfriend and
he flirted and teased me into thinking he wanted the
same. Sadly, there was one thing standing between us.
God. His family were Jehovah Witnesses and forbid him
to date outside the religion.

When I found this out it became my personal mission to
"save" not "change" him. Pages and pages of my journal
(can I have this time back please?) were devoted to what
A might be thinking, what I might say to A to get A to like
me and how exactly I should approach A about the whole
"Jehovah" thing. I mean... don't get me wrong, I too similar
to his religious beliefs- thought world powers and most
political parties were unwitting allies of Satan. However,
if Jehovah says that only 144,000 people were going to
make it to heaven, weren't his odds better dating me?

B: Was another super hottie. He was a blond, a Colorado
transplant and skater. For hours and days and months
on end I sat on cold, hard, cement curbs watching him
skate while my butt froze and my brain cells fell out my
ears-you know-like brain cells do. Time originally meant
for learning important things at that age like the inner
workings of the human respiratory system, were instead
devoted to pouring over "Thrasher" magazine and
memorizing every, possible skateboard term that ever
existed: Ollie, Kickflip, Half-Cab pivot...(can I also have
this time back please?)

Although B thought I had a nice ass (he told me in the
school library) B was not really in the "marrying" type.
Not that I wanted to get married to B in 9th grade but
sitting around stoned together watching Tom & Jerry
for 11 hours every Sunday was hardly the most intimate
and loving moment I could imagine sharing. Don't get
me wrong, 11 hrs of stoned cartoon watching is not a
bad thing. Could you just hold my hand?

C: C eventually became the love of my 10th grade life
but at the time of my 9th grade life I didn't know it. He
snuck up on me from behind-not literally-figuratively.
We were childhood friends first and then a lot of poems,
flowers, missed Curfews, Jane's Addiction concerts,
kissing and sex later-things changed. My journal went
from pages and pages of how I told him "I needed space"
and that "we were only in 9th grade dude" and that
"I needed my life and my friends too."

C eventually dumped me his senior year. He paid me back
that summer by bringing home his freshman year Vassar
girlfriend back to our small town. She looked like me. I saw
them everywhere I went. Pages and pages of my journal
were spent trying to figure out how I'd "lost a good thing"
and trying to figure out why we "couldn't just be friends".
(Can I please have this time back please?)

So there is my love history. A chunk anyway. When
I can't have you, I want you. The odds may be huge
but I can convince you otherwise. I don't want to
"change" you just "save" you. You can be stoned,
just hold my hand. If you could have the time back
would you really take it?


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