Over the last few chapters I skipped over someone that I feel deserves some recognition. There was an Asian girl that I was interested in while I was in High School. She and I hadn’t started really talking till I was at my Dad’s house, visiting for the summer, before I ever got in a fight with him and even before I ever moved in with him.
This girl and I would message each other on AOL IM all summer, talking about our lives, our dreams and eventually, talking about loving each other.
We had hyped up our love for each other so much over the summer months that we found ourselves in a well-established long-distance relationship. We hadn’t seen each other in many months and had no in-person romantic experience with each other, so when I returned home to Lakewood, things didn’t go as expected.
I got home, and I barely talked to her, even when I was physically around her. We would try to give ourselves the opportunity to connect, but when we would all hang out, we somehow found ourselves going out of our way to avoid each other. We probably both felt we had put so much pressure on something being there, that we didn’t put any work into physical comfort with each other. As a result? Things just felt, impossible.
At some point, I, and three girls went to a local creek to go swimming. One girl being the Samoan girl I would later date, the other being a creepy pale girl who looked like a Tellytubby (through her own admission/jokes), and the last being my Asian girlfriend. I had a weird moment in the creek with the Samoan girl. She had large breasts and it became more than apparent when she became soaked by the creek. We were both deep in the water, then she pulled her shirt-covered breasts out from under the water by standing up taller and for some reason she stopped, turned to me, and gave me a warm smile.
Imagine the sun shining off of her, her eyes dewy and hopeful… it was a moment.
I shook that moment off and got out of the water. As we walked back, I heard two of the girls giggling. My girlfriend, and the pale weirdo were the source of that giggling. The Samoan girl looked kind of angry at the other two, and I later pieced together what they were laughing at when they made an obvious joke at my expense. This joke was later to come, after I would sustain a serious injury that night.
We were all dried off, and at the Tellytubby girl’s house. I was jumping on her trampoline, and I decided it would be in my best interest to, for the first time ever, attempt a front flip. Naturally, I landed directly on my neck, and felt very injured right away. No one came to help me as no one saw it happen, so I just crawled off the trampoline, walked up to the girls who were inside the house, said I needed to go home, and that’s when the joke went down.
“Awe, hey why don’t you give him a back rub?” the Tellytubby girl said to my girlfriend. The implication was that a back rub would somehow help the neck injury I explained to them that I had. My girlfriend seemed hesitant and remained silent. I didn’t want a back rub, but that wasn’t really the point. The point was the giggling happened earlier because I was wearing a white t-shirt when I went in the water. What happens to white t-shirts when they get wet? They become semi-transparent, which naturally revealed, a back full of acne.
So… the angry look from the Samoan girl at the two girls giggling that I witnessed before, now made sense. My friend, the Samoan girl, felt it was mean to essentially body shame me, and clearly, she didn’t care about my back acne, as she would later become my girlfriend when she found the right opportunity. She was always kind to me, just generally a good person really.
Regardless, I was now in emotional and physical pain so I left the house and walked a mile home by myself. When I got home I collapsed on my bed and stayed there for a week.
Yes, I got up to shower every day, but that required crawling as I could not physically bear standing or most any movement in general. I just laid there and hoped I would heal. Lucky me, I did, and I still had some summer left to enjoy before school started that year.
To sum up the relationship I had with that specific Asian girl, I’d say: Unrealistic. It wasn’t long after I found out I was a joke to her, that I broke up with her. Meanwhile the Samoan girl and I continued to be friends for years. The Asian girl? She wound up being a prison security guard many years later. Good paying job I hear.
Now let’s jump forward, back to the post-Juvenile Hall times.
A more realistic dating opportunity came up when I attended a group retreat at a Native American school. I was part of a club where we were to gather with many other clubs to have a special event. We would do art, we would sing, we would play games and generally talk about life in a massive group at this collaboration.
At this event? I met a girl who looked like the girl 4 years my senior, on crack. I mean that in a good way. She looked like a super model. She had tan skin, green eyes and brown hair with maroon highlights. She had that same tendency to intensely stare at me, her laser eyes locking right onto mine.
At this massive gathering, she was the only person I could see. This girl seemed special, I was single, so I had to try to get to know her. Yes, she was older than me, just like the other girl, and that was just a bonus to me. Why? This girl actually had a car and was more mature.
After we eye-banged each other (hilarious term) the entire weekend, we exchanged numbers and met up at a later date. At that later time, I asked her out and she said yes. This girl was fit as hell. She weighed just as much as I did, was shorter than me, and yet looked extremely healthy. It was mind-blowing. The sheer density of her body was much greater than mine. I imagine someone built like her would be a great fighter.
So, what was the problem? Our relationship had to work out right? Older girl, nothing wrong with her… no, wait. There was something very wrong. I would find she, like some others I had dated, had drug problems. She never did drugs around me, but her addiction to drinking and doing drugs lead her to one day tell me that she was, as a result of her being intoxicated, tricked into being tied to a tree and violated by someone. I, naturally, reacted in horror when I heard this.
I had heard stories of pretty much every other girl I knew, going through some situation or another where they were preyed upon by a man. Me surrounding myself with women all the time, and hearing their horror stories about men, only increased my feminism and hero complex. I was always the person to hold them, tell them I’m there for them, and curse the men who hurt them. It was just my role to play, the guy who holds people as they cry about what others had done.
I was raised with three women and no men around the majority of the time. This turned me into a massive woman sympathizer and feminist in training. Looking back on that, it was toxic to me. It gave me this idea that women were all heroes and men were all villains, when in reality, women can be just as evil and then some. I don’t know what percent of the stories I was told were actually true, or just told to get back at the people who hurt their feelings at some point. Reality is, some people do lie, and others, do tell the truth. Lying seems to be much more common than I originally assumed however. A lesson I would learn the hard way later in life.
Regardless, as I got to know this fit girl, who called herself a “gypsy”, more, she would make more trips to see me. Eventually, she wanted to have sex with me. This woman intimidated me. She was so picture perfect that it almost felt like she was out of my league. If the Amazonian women from the DC comic books were a real thing, she’d fit right in. You can just Google “gypsy” and if you locate the prettiest one in the results, it’s probably her (kidding). She was like a prettier, less white version of Xena Warrior Princess (not kidding).
So, guess what happened when we slept together for the first time? She rode me. I didn’t do anything really outside just lay there and glance at her as she, with a dead, unamused stare, looked right back at me, riding me till she got what she wanted.
I want you to imagine that. Imagine a perfect human specimen who weighs as much as you, but is perfectly fit, hops on top of you, and rides you, while giving you a dead, blank stare till you finish. How weird would you feel after? I felt, extremely weird.
After we made love, or… whatever that was… in my bedroom, she went home only to return another day, to do it again… or so we thought.
This time around, people were at my home. As a result, we decided to go outside. We wanted to be with each other physically, so I suggested we make love in the woods.
Classic me, I brought my trench coat, and threw it on the ground on a hill where we had privacy. She said, “Right here?” and I said “Sure.” She laid down and took off her pants, welcoming me to get on top of her, which I did. Problem? The most flaccid penis of my life.
I said earlier that I’ve almost never had that problem did I not? She was one of the few instances when my junk literally just broke. The last time this happened, the girl I was with just used her mouth to give me CPR down there, but this lady? She didn’t have the confidence, instead, she just took it personally.
Instead of offering to do something about it, she indicated we should forget it, and so, we did. But why did that happen in the first place? Why could I not get aroused? Well… the image of her staring at me while she was riding me before… it was still burned in my head. I couldn’t get over how she showed no emotions the whole time and seemed to just use me as a means to get off… or… something. I didn’t feel like she loved me, or really cared for me… so? The next time, my manhood was like “No thanks” and checked out of the opportunity to participate in that ride again.
That beautiful, statue of a woman dumped me shortly after. Once I got on AOL IM with her, I ranted about how she ripped my heart out. I said that she never really cared about me, you know, did what a lot of people do with hurt feelings, try to make the person who dumped them feel bad… but eventually I calmed down and apologized for getting emotional over her dumping me.
We lost touch after that.
As far as I know, she’s a professional woman now, off living her career life with some dude who is way too ugly to be with her. But maybe he’s a great person or something, I don’t know.
And now… I want to talk about the girl who inspired “Stones To Abbigale”.
There was a stunning girl in my art class who I had fallen pretty hard for. It’s a running theme with me: fall for a girl, idolize her, become convinced we’ll grow old together, then watch it all fall apart in some way or another.
This girl had visited my house while another girl, who definitely wanted to get with me, was visiting. The problem was, I wasn’t into the girl who wanted to get with me. She had big breasts, which was, ok, and blonde hair, also, ok. She was pale skinned, ok. But none of that did anything for me because she just didn’t have a face that I connected with. In reality, I was into her friend.
The girl who was into me, wound up dating my friend, I’m guessing because I introduced them, which was cool. The Abbigale inspirer, had a cool car, wore awesome outfits, loved the bands I loved, and kind of looked like Lindsay Lohan with darker skin.
She and I were walking to one of our classes one day and I decided to pass her a note. The note was basically my confession for liking her… or so that’s how I inaccurately saw it. In reality my confession for liking her was executed in such a passive way that she clearly didn’t get the message.
In the note, I said to her that I understood her. Just looking in her eyes, and talking to her, it was like I knew about her whole life. So? I wrote about what I assumed I knew of her life in this note.
When I called her on the phone that night, I learned very quickly, she was not happy with me. In fact? She was crying. She said the note I wrote was essentially, horrible. She gave me a huge “How dare you write me all that” reaction that confused me.
I then asked her “Was… the note accurate?” and she replied, “Well yes, but that’s not the point!” Clearly, she didn’t understand I was just saying that I wanted to be there for her and I understood her pain, but she didn’t have any interest in my compassion.
I assume that she was not the type of person who wanted to talk about her problems. Instead, she wanted to pretend they didn’t exist and move beyond them. Me bringing up all that, just made me part of the problem.
In Stones to Abbigale I think I mentioned her standing me up… which was crappy, just standing around, hoping she shows up to hang out with me, only to find, it was because of the note, that I would never hang out with her again. Not long after she got a boyfriend and when he heard I liked her, he wrote me saying I was a pathetic loser, and went on to talk about how much he enjoyed having sex with her knowing he could and I couldn’t.
My thoughts were “See, this is what I was talking about, she surrounds herself with people who just use her and don’t care about her at all.”
And that was it… I rarely saw her again. I’m guessing her and that guy didn’t work out either.
Her story wasn’t really what the bulk of Stones to Abbigale was about, but her look? That was in my mind the whole time. Those vibrant eyes, her eye liner and rocker fashion, it was just cool. She also had a really cool voice. Just a neat person who chose to hang out with people who didn’t really take care of her.
That’s just the thing too… Stones to Abbigale is a book that is pretty much entirely about a dude with a massive hero complex. Hero complexes typically don’t work out to benefit the “Hero”. A lot of times they just cause you to give misery company, rather than cure it. Important lesson for all of you to jot down.
So at some point, brace yourself: I came up with my own system of beliefs. This religious view of the world had no leader and was centered on worshiping the Earth. Basically, if everyone had that religion, Global Warming wouldn’t exist… basically, I was trying to invent something that people could believe in, that actually benefitted themselves and each other, universally. It was the most healthy and logical thing I could think of at the time… but we’ll get to that in a moment.
Another girl who was just my friend wound up hating me down the line because essentially, I was the world’s biggest tease (I suppose). She would always come over to my house and watch South Park with me. She was a very short, half Asian, half Latina girl. Thing is, we would watch South Park in my bed, laying down sideways, butt to crotch, fully clothed, every time she was around me. The girl would come back day after day, cuddling, watching South Park over and over. I would squeeze hug her and say how happy it made me to cuddle with her. I looked forward to those moments because I finally had a relationship with a female that was purely platonic and totally comforting.
But, unfortunately for her apparent wishes, I wasn’t attracted to her. You could tell because I was never physically aroused as we laid there tightly bound to each other. Eventually, I got in trouble with her as I had helped her get home one night but forgot to wait for her to get in her door before leaving. This fact left her, keyless and stranded in front of her house. Her mom later called me on the phone, not only scolding me for forgetting to stand by and watch her enter the home before leaving, but then, in her very broken English began to accuse me of sleeping with the daughter. Not only did she accuse me of this, but she also insisted I wear a condom in the future. She kept saying “You wear condom! Wear condom!” When she finally stopped interrupting me, I informed her we had never slept together and she abruptly hung up, not believing a word I said. Later on, after her daughter spoke to her mom in detail, the mom called me back and apologized for accusing me of sleeping with her, which was a relief.
Not long after that, I asked that female friend to read the documents I wrote about how important our planet is, and how we should treat it incredibly well to save it from the bad things that exist in the universe. She read how I believed we exist as the planet’s defenders, and that our collective purpose in life is to extend the life of the Earth while also bringing life to other planets. While this all sounds good to most rational, probably hippy-type, people… this girl already had a religion, much crazier than the one she was reading about. So, because her religion demanded gay people die, or that witches be burned, and my religion demanded everyone be treated equally and we work together in harmony, she may or may not have concluded that I was a crazy person.
As a result? She yelled at me about how stupid my ideas were, and never talked to me again.
…alright then.
Enter the woman who would one day become my wife… next chapter. Today? I’m just beat… have a nice day guys.