I didn't really know him as a child of 17, he (a year my junior) didn't know me... but he wanted to. He would sit for hours in the store I worked with in the mall and wait for me to notice how much he cared for me.
The day we met, I was wearing an awesome skirt. I didn't even remember I'd owned it until he reminded me of it, 11 years later. It was a black skirt, with butterflies all over it. The pictures looked like real species, different ones, but very realistic. My hair was elbow-length, curly. I wore a size 0 (because I did a LOT of drugs, went to about 3 raves a week, danced my ass off, and didn't really have money or desire for food). I was in my years of rebellion; I was never at home. I had just dropped out of Catholic high school. I smoked pot in the back room at work & snorted blow off of the mirrors we sold to little girls so they could practice the art of vanity. I was so pretty then, and I kind of knew it, although I've always been self-deprecating. Hippie chick maybe, but with a pretty fucking malicious capacity. He didn't know how noxious I could be. I guessed I assumed he would. I suppose he would know that everyone could be, and sometimes was.
He was one of those goth kids who would roam through the mall killing time with strictly black clothing on, usually adorned with leather and spikes, black nail polish and lipstick to match. There was another girl in that suburban mall expanse who worked at the other end who I used to call "Evil Nicole" or "Goth Nicole" that was absolutely infatuated with him, and he was obsessed with me. I found her jealousy humorous. I wasn't much of an active hater, I'm still not terribly great at being actively vindictive or acrimonious; any vendetta I may have, I try to keep in my head. If it's too much to bear, and I hate myself enough for feeling so mean, I will take it out on myself in some way... because I may strike out with some reaction to emotional pain on occasion, especially if I'm really hurting.. but anyway.. this is kind of a tangent. He ended up marrying that chick. Twice. And then she became a lesbian and moved to California. (The thing that's ironic as hell to me now is that I think she was probably a lot like me, with a different clothing and living style.)
He told me when he found me on the social network a decade after the days of mall life that I'd reminded him of a Led Zeppelin song. He never told me which one; now I highly doubt I will ever know.
The longer he hung around, the more I liked him. There was something special about him, and endearing. Even though he didn't wear patchwork clothing, listen to the same music, have any sort of carefree nature, look like a dirty hippie in any capacity, and wore makeup (when I never did), I grew to genuinely be interested in him. He would come repel jump off of the columns outside of the mall when I would go on smoke breaks, listen to me talk about parties and drugs attentively (even though he was straight edge by nature), and when we would close the store, he would vacuum for me like it was the coolest way he could be spending his time. He was considerate, polite, and nice.
One day I had all these butterflies in my tummy, because I had to kiss this guy. At that point in my life, I'd only kissed three boys prior to him. I was super nervous. He helped me take out the trash that day. We walked through the back corridors of the mall and out to the garbage compactors, threw in the garbage, and talked for a couple of minutes before I had to return to work. I knew that may be the only time I'd be alone with him for a long while, so I told him I needed to tell him something, and I kissed him. It was so corny. I mean, we were out beside dumpsters at a mall. My kiss didn't involve a bunch of tongue. It was one of those sweet, time-freezing moments. I will never forget the look on his face after I did it. It's almost indescribable.
Ugh. I was so into boys then. I had this one guy who loved me, and I'd fallen for a co-worker at another store I'd worked in, across the hall in the mall (that was a silly rhyme). Shortly thereafter the boy with his head in the clouds, who years later I thought I would spend my life with, entered into my life. So much commotion in my life. The three latter guys were into the same social stuff that I was, or more on a compatible level, and it was a lot to handle.. I was a stupid, drug using teenage hippie raver who spent more time doing drugs and thinking of my own interests than thinking about other people's feelings. If I could go back in time and lecture myself at any given point, this would have been one of the times in my life, because it led to a different life than I could have had. As a teenager, I didn't comprehend how permanent choices could be, or that I was going to make life-altering decisions then, because I was entering real life... I didn't get it. I thought it was all about me: having fun, feeling good, being young and pretty. In any capacity, my goth friend fell to the wayside as time moved forth and I quit working completely so that I could spend all of my time doing what I loved best- partying and doing drugs, escaping reality.
When Christmas came that year, he came to the place I was staying in and brought me a black hippie shirt with a butterfly embroidered on it. My off/on/off/on boyfriend answered the door when he came by. He explained to me years later how embarrassed and nervous he'd been, and how foolish he'd felt about the whole thing. I apologized on behalf of my teenage self, but it still hurts me to know I hurt him then.
Once before, in the decade we were totally apart, we'd run into each other in life (circa 2004) and hooked up; he was going through a divorce, or was divorced, and I was going away.. moving out of state I believe... I was so shy I wouldn't take off my shirt. I was too nervous to enjoy it like I wanted to.
Before I decided to move home, after he'd found me, I was living alone in an apt in another state. I had a casual f**k puppet (self-proclaimed), and I had just met a guy I thought I could be crazy about, but obviously wasn't, because I destroyed that too.
I was so ecstatic he'd re-entered my life; the memories of him and thought of him appearing back in my life felt magical. I couldn't really believe it. He was divorced from the anti-me and he was so sweet. He even sent me $250 as a gift because he knew how hard my life had become and that I was probably going to be moving back to TN. He read some of his writing to me. He told me about his life and who he'd become. And I ate it up. I thought of him all the time... literally. I would even dream of him on occasion. You would think at this point in my life, I would have given up on the idea of love and its components.
But! ...just like I always do, because of some terrible underlying psychological curse or anomaly, I wigged out on him over something so dumb... stupid knuckle tattoos he was getting. I mean, wtf was I even thinking? They're his knuckles. I wasn't intending on sounding totally insane. I don't even know why I was upset. Other things had gone on that night, leaving me alone in my apartment, and miserable in Kentucky. I don't know if I was on some weird control trip, or if I wanted to push him away because I was growing emotionally close to him, or if I was upset about something else and trying to take it out on him, or what the hell. I don't even remember what I said precisely, it was a bunch of crazy person text messages.
I apologized profusely. I was so remorseful for trying to control the person he'd grown up to be, and for trying to mess with him as himself at all. A couple of days later, he decided to commit to a relationship with someone else, who he'd been seeing all along. He told me that when he started to talk to me in a serious manner that he'd kicked her to the curb, but I know it wasn't true. In Memphis, everyone is connected by that 6 degrees of Separation theory. I saw red. I sent her a message that was a copy and paste of a chat we'd had... a very explicit chat... to the girl he had chosen over me.
He said he was surprised, but he kind of expected it, he just really didn't think I would *do* it. Fuck that. Yeah, I did it. I felt betrayed. I felt like he was a liar, and self-absorbed, for keeping someone else on the side and not telling me. He knew about the men I had on the side and the relationships I shared with them, or lack thereof. I felt like before she committed to a relationship with this dude, she should at least be informed of my existence, of what I had supposedly meant to this man. They ended up remaining 'friends', but I know he's going to end up with her, even though he says he won't.
I came home in 2010 for the Xmas holiday, and he let me come over, even though he'd still been angry. I don't know why. I'm sure he was curious as to how I had turned out, and maybe he knew what he was going to do, and how he was going to hurt me. We ended up gettin it on, and it was so impersonal and terrible. I felt gross and used and I hadn't expected it to be like that. It was like I was one of the random chicks he bangs (since his divorce, he's become a total man-whore. It's like he's fucking for revenge or something). He said he had fun, he just wasn't expecting me to be so 'thick'. I have gained a lot of weight.. I doubt I will ever be in a size '0' again without some surgical intervention, and even when I was the teeny tiny teenager, I was self-conscious about my looks. I left feeling like a piece of trash.
Finally, we were together once more the night before my birthday, after I'd moved home, and I couldn't stand it because of what he'd said and how much I'd hurt him. Three times we've been together in an intimate fashion and not one of those times was I able to reach satisfaction. He's quite intimidating; he's been with beautiful women, and a *lot* of them at this point in life, and I've never felt I could be special enough for him or matter enough to be worth the intimacy efforts.
This brings us to the last time I saw him, on Valentine's Day this year. He told me I had to stop with the kicked puppy dog face and that I had to make my life better for myself (yes, I am an emotional basketcase).
I called him later, and laid it out, asking him if he wanted me in his life or not. I don't know why I was shocked when he said that I should leave him alone. I kind of went into crazy mode again and refused to leave. He told me that he had promised the other girl he would never speak to me again, and that he felt uncomfortable about having me in his life. He told me that the bottom line was he knew it would get back to her that we were talking, and his potential relationship with her had been ruined (by me), but his friendship with her was more important to him than I was. I told him that if he was kicking me out of his life, then he needed to swear he would never look for me, find me, or contact me again. It was extra painful when he said that that was ok with him. Everything he said was the opposite of what I'd been hoping he would say.
Have I messaged his girlfriend about all the things that happened since I sent her the first bit of information? No. I want to, almost every day, but I don't want to hurt her, even though I don't know her, and I don't want to ruin his chances... because I know that they will end up together. I didn't know he was hiding me away like that. I didn't know I was his shameful little secret. But I will never betray him like I did before, even though I feel like I was kicked while I was down. Would it be protecting her from being hurt worse in the long run if she knew the what had happened while he was laboring for her affection? I don't know the answer to that. I just hope it matters to him that I care for him so much that even though sometimes I hate the thought of him, and I really wish he had just left me in his past, I have kept the secret of me away from the world.
The kicker is the end, when he told me on Valentine's Day this year that he once thought I "hung the moon", and that I've completely destroyed his perception of who I was to him. I felt like dying. Why do I have to do this to everyone I could potentially have something important with, especially him? He meant more to me than he'll ever know.. or maybe he does know, and doesn't care.
Ir doesn't matter, does it? I care. I know he thinks I never could have loved him, but I do.. maybe not in the way he believes, but I do, and I always will, and I wish him all the happiness in the world. I just wish I'd done it differently.
The situation changed me. I cannot even think about having sex, with anyone. It disgusts me to look at myself; I'm repulsive.
I realize that I seem to hurt the people I am interested in, and have decided to remain stoic until I am at a completely different emotional level.
I have new found respect for the guy who wouldn't allow himself to be too close to me in Lexington, whose friendship with benefits I appreciated and enjoyed. He was mature enough to know he wasn't ready for a relationship. That's actually pretty huge. Whoever ends up with that future linguist is a very lucky lady.. and I will tell the story of the stoner linguist, just not tonight. This one has been painful enough; this one was for my first and only stalker.
In case he ever reads this:
~I'm so sorry I disappointed you. Believe it or not, I disappointed myself more than you will ever know. I've never been perfect, or hung the moon. I'm sorry you saw the real me and wanted nothing to do with it, but I don't blame you either.
~I do love you, and I have since we were kids. You were really special to me, and you will always have a spot in my heart. I hope someday you will be my friend again, and I will be the beautiful person, inside and out, that you once saw when you looked at me, even though then it was a facade.
~My heart has hurt for you, your blog for your Bella is so sad, I've read all of it. What a cunt. She ruined so much of your heart, that I don't know if there's enough left for another girl, but I hope you find who you're looking for.
~I wish I'd made sweet hippie love to you 12 years ago. I hope that someday I will be able to. I don't like what has transposed physically in the past between us.
~I miss you every day, and you will always be a part of me, and I will only keep the good memories, and I will give you back that $250 gift as soon as I can, without intruding on your life. I don't want to have taken anything like that from you.
~I'm both impressed and a little freaked out by what you grew up to be like. Mostly impressed. You're definitely not a kid anymore. You've done well, and I've never been more free than you... you have kicked life's ass while I have succumbed to it's insanity. I'm proud of you, and I'm glad I got the chance to have you in my life. I totally see my mistakes in perfect, undaunted vision. If it helps you feel better, it kills me and makes me strive to be a better person.
Okay. There it is. Most of it, anyway. If I put down every beautiful detail about him, this would be a never-ending entry. Fuck, this has hurt to type out. I'm going to have to print all these emotion-charged entries for the therapist that I will undoubtedly be seeing soon. Now, I have to get some sleep so I can face tomorrow.
For my first stalker, with much love.
