In the Bible God is described as "the Alpha & the Omega", the beginning and the end. He is my beginning. As I write this, I still get chills...breathe, breathe.
Since I had been shuttled back and forth so much, I hadn't gotten too close to many of the boys in my Kingdom Hall. I honestly didn't think any of them would give me the time of day. I knew they were all way cooler than me. My parents were weird, even by JW standards. I was even taller, even more awkward, and to top it off I was also wearing glasses. There was no way any boy would have thought I was cute. Especially not one of the cool boys.
There was this group of boys that had grown up together from birth. They were thick as theives and I would have loved for one of them to be my boyfriend. But what were the chances? And then he said hello, Alpha said hello-to me!
He was so fine, he had curly hair, big brown eyes, and a swagger that was palitable. A leader of the group was far from what I thought I deserved, but he seemed to like like me. Wow, I was lucky. I can honestly say I didn't know how we ended up together, but I remember the movies.
JW's aren't allowed to date really, especially at my age. But we organized these group outings where we went to the movies together. 10-15 of us horny, angst filled kids going to see summer blockbusters and anything rated PG. All the boys and girls that had crushes on eachother would arrange to sit next to eachother. I always tried to sit next to Alpha.
We would touch hands, share popcorn and make googly eyes. It was all so sweet and so cute looking back. We all tried to do things to extend the night, even though we all had curfews. If we were lucky we would get to go to some fast food place for a bite afterwards. This was like the debreifing time. All the girls would go off and gossip about their crushes. All the boys would group of and talk about the movie or basketball. But in the end we all had to go home by the time the street lights came on. Being a gentleman-in-training, he walked me home...with the whole group in tow.
As we came around the corner to my apartment my heart was beating out of my chest. God he was cute. And he was so damn cool! Was he gonna just walk away? Say goodnight and go? What the fuck? Wait, he's stopping. Everybody else is still walking. We're ALONE! He's so cute and he's coming closer. You think an alleged slut like me would know what to do, but this was all new. And there it was. The most beautiful kiss ever. Sure it was a peck, but time stopped for us. I was on my stoop, that I had sat on with my ripped tights years before, and I was stunned. I was officially in love. And I knew he was my man for life. Alpha was my beginning.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
The Voice
So I mentioned that friend with the gigantic tits earlier, right? Well, she comes over to my house after school and tells me all about this high school boy she met. He's tall, like really tall. He's built, like really built, he's fine, like really fine, and he's got this...voice.
After figuring out a strategy on how we were gonna meet him, I had to come up with a reason to stay after school. Since JW's aren't allowed to participate in any team sports, I had to really bullshit here. I think I said I was taking extra math or science classes after school. And I think they believed it. Ha ha, the beginnings of the fabled "double-life".
So, there we are, we've stayed after school, we've gone to the store around the corner and picked up candy, chips and soda. I was ready to meet this Adonis. As we boarded the bus, I could feel things shifting. She was never giddy over a boy, but this one was different. Rounding the corner to the back door of the high school, I caught my first look of him, goddamn! I had crushes before, but this dude was like movie star hot to me.
He took the seat in front of us and said....hello. Oh my Jesus lord I think it moved! His voice came from somewhere really really deep. Deeper than the squeaky 12 year olds I was forced to associate with daily. Their voices getting even higher when they let you kick em in the nuts. This guy was a man, and I wanted him badly!
Apparently my career as a double-lifer was succeeding because I began staying after more often with my friend just to see this guy. We exchanged numbers and began talking on the phone every once in a while. I'd be on the late bus just staring at him. He was as pretty as art to me. But I was the kid, he had no interest in me. Especially with boobilicious for a BFF! And then I saw it.
While listening to CeCe Penniston's "Finally" on my walkman, I turned around on the bus and saw him...kissing...her! Never felt jealousy until then. And I hated that feeling. I was so hurt, I was crushed all over again. He got off the bus at his stop and she came up and sat next to me. Before I could even turn to look at her I could hear her. She was in hysterical tears, bawling her eyes out! WTF?
I found out later, through her tears, that he had been her first kiss. He was a little more touchy than she was ready for, and he basically freaked her out. I was sad for my friend, but goddammit if I wasn't intrigued! I'm a sick little bitch ain't I?
She didn't have any reason to stay after school anymore, but I sure did. The Voice was still running track and getting on that famed late bus. And I was there to see him. I could always feel my heart flutter as we came around to the back entrance of the high school. There he was, and he just got hotter and hotter.
We sat on the bus and talked a lot. We talked on the phone, and I just wanted to find out what those gorgeous lips felt like. It happened one day, and it was everything I thought it could be. A sweet little kiss on the back of the bus. Delicious.
But where was the gropey hands I had heard about, the under the shirt, the down the jeans? Where was this freak-Adonis I was promised? Can you believe I was actually upset? Was I going to have to say something? What was it she did to get him to go for the gold? Oh wait, she had bigger tits. Damn.
Despite the fact that we were basically friends that had kissed a couple times, we were still the targets. Those rumor mills started up again and our names were all over the place. Allegedly, he and I fucked in the lower gym of my junior high. This rumor haunted me for the rest of my time in the burbs. At one point it was so bad that the late bus driver actually pulled over and asked us, in front of a full bus, if the rumor was true. We denied it, she called the whole thing a wash, I was mortified!
The great thing about school is that in the summer you don't have to go. This rumor had plagued me all spring and until the end of the school year. Thankfully it was over, and I returned to the normality of my life, whatever that was.
The Voice and I spoke on the phone several times during that summer. I loved his voice. But I was a kid, didn't know any better, and there was something else happening...it was a real beginning.
After figuring out a strategy on how we were gonna meet him, I had to come up with a reason to stay after school. Since JW's aren't allowed to participate in any team sports, I had to really bullshit here. I think I said I was taking extra math or science classes after school. And I think they believed it. Ha ha, the beginnings of the fabled "double-life".
So, there we are, we've stayed after school, we've gone to the store around the corner and picked up candy, chips and soda. I was ready to meet this Adonis. As we boarded the bus, I could feel things shifting. She was never giddy over a boy, but this one was different. Rounding the corner to the back door of the high school, I caught my first look of him, goddamn! I had crushes before, but this dude was like movie star hot to me.
He took the seat in front of us and said....hello. Oh my Jesus lord I think it moved! His voice came from somewhere really really deep. Deeper than the squeaky 12 year olds I was forced to associate with daily. Their voices getting even higher when they let you kick em in the nuts. This guy was a man, and I wanted him badly!
Apparently my career as a double-lifer was succeeding because I began staying after more often with my friend just to see this guy. We exchanged numbers and began talking on the phone every once in a while. I'd be on the late bus just staring at him. He was as pretty as art to me. But I was the kid, he had no interest in me. Especially with boobilicious for a BFF! And then I saw it.
While listening to CeCe Penniston's "Finally" on my walkman, I turned around on the bus and saw him...kissing...her! Never felt jealousy until then. And I hated that feeling. I was so hurt, I was crushed all over again. He got off the bus at his stop and she came up and sat next to me. Before I could even turn to look at her I could hear her. She was in hysterical tears, bawling her eyes out! WTF?
I found out later, through her tears, that he had been her first kiss. He was a little more touchy than she was ready for, and he basically freaked her out. I was sad for my friend, but goddammit if I wasn't intrigued! I'm a sick little bitch ain't I?
She didn't have any reason to stay after school anymore, but I sure did. The Voice was still running track and getting on that famed late bus. And I was there to see him. I could always feel my heart flutter as we came around to the back entrance of the high school. There he was, and he just got hotter and hotter.
We sat on the bus and talked a lot. We talked on the phone, and I just wanted to find out what those gorgeous lips felt like. It happened one day, and it was everything I thought it could be. A sweet little kiss on the back of the bus. Delicious.
But where was the gropey hands I had heard about, the under the shirt, the down the jeans? Where was this freak-Adonis I was promised? Can you believe I was actually upset? Was I going to have to say something? What was it she did to get him to go for the gold? Oh wait, she had bigger tits. Damn.
Despite the fact that we were basically friends that had kissed a couple times, we were still the targets. Those rumor mills started up again and our names were all over the place. Allegedly, he and I fucked in the lower gym of my junior high. This rumor haunted me for the rest of my time in the burbs. At one point it was so bad that the late bus driver actually pulled over and asked us, in front of a full bus, if the rumor was true. We denied it, she called the whole thing a wash, I was mortified!
The great thing about school is that in the summer you don't have to go. This rumor had plagued me all spring and until the end of the school year. Thankfully it was over, and I returned to the normality of my life, whatever that was.
The Voice and I spoke on the phone several times during that summer. I loved his voice. But I was a kid, didn't know any better, and there was something else happening...it was a real beginning.
Crushes and Crushed
Since I was already a slut as far as an entire elementary school was concerned, it was time to move on to bigger and better things.
My parents had the forethought to have me on the waiting list for a program that takes underprivileged, inner-city kids and puts them into schools in nice, manicured suburbs. Great. In the third grade I went to my first day of school in the 'burbs.
I had spent hours, days picking out my first day of school dress, it was fabulous! Red dress with little blue, white and yellow flowers all over it, ruffled sleeves, red tights and shiny shoes! It was hott! Until...
The bus was 3 and a half hours late! Can you believe it? I was so upset! I sat on my stoop for the whole morning watching other kids in their best outfits getting picked up. And there I sat. At one point I thought I saw the bus, so I ran to the corner, and fell, tearing my tights. Dammit. Had to go back upstairs to the apartment to change. Double dammit. I didn't have any more red tights! White tights? Are you serious mom? Ughhh, fine. Red dress, white tights. Tragic.
A friend of mine describes me as a foal taking its first steps. I was tall, awkward, puffball of hair, weird colored eyes, and a Strawberry Shortcake lunchbox, wearing those damned white tights. The ride was a nightmare. Befuddled bus driver, restless kids, and a long ride to a strange place.
Talk about an entrance. Fashionably late is one thing, 4 hours late to school is a whole other ball of wax. So embarrassing. I arrived in time for lunch, and dined on the contents of my lunchbox. I was told that the next class was music-cool! I went to a performing arts school before, I totally have this! We were going to learn the recorder. double cool-my dad is a sound engineer, I know all about tape recorders! I'm gonna be a star!!! WTF is this plastic tube with holes in it? Ugh, 'burbs suck.
In my first days at school I realized that I was definitely different. Not just because of the clear delineation of the kids who were bussed in and the native burbanites, but it was on the bus too. I didn't live in "the 'hood", I wasn't dark skinned, my hair was almost blond, and my daddy was white. This was gonna be a long haul of shit.
And then there was the cutie pie I spotted on the bus. He was dark, and had a high top fade, and was loud, and silly and cute!!! There was also the suave boy I thought was so damn fine. He had a gumby cut, dimples and a flare for the dramatic.
Not to gloss over it all, but through the years I had crushes on a few boys in school, none of them reciprocated except for that kid with the gumby cut and dimples. I think he and his partner spend their summers in Fire Island and Provincetown. (I've always loved my gays!) So I turned my attentions back to the church.
I was so uncool there too! Tall is not an attribute when you're a kid! My BFF's brother was the cutest boy I'd ever seen. A half breed like me with shiny dark hair and lovely eyes. Never go too far with him though. She had a socket in her room that came out and he would watch me change from there. Cue me becoming an exhibitionist!
We spent a lot of time together and it was bound to happen one day. Since I was already a seasoned kisser thanks to my babysitter, I was totally up for the Seven Minutes in Heaven challenge! And there we were in the closet, staring at each other.
First we hugged, meh. He leaned in and said we were gonna kiss like they do on TV, so he smooched my cheek, meh. Then he said we were gonna kiss for real-bingo! Smoochie-booches and it was everything I thought it could be and more. Until he ran out of the closet.
By the next week he had told a few of the boys at the hall, and I was a marked woman. Mom went back into the hospital, I went back to aunties, and it was kinda like hitting a reset button. By the time I came back, I was a mystery again.
Going back and forth to school over the years did take its toll. And the boy with the high top fade barely acknowledged me, only to make fun. Eventually I couldn't take the daily torture that was the bus and I convinced my parents to let me take the T to school (public transport). That was the beginning of me feeling the independence I had craved for so long and all the time I wanted to listen to my walkman and read. Good times, until I got to school.
Junior high, still awkward, still tall, but with tits! I had a few crushes here too. A couple of kisses, and a lot more of the aforementioned rumors. One boy I was totally infatuated with actually gave me the time of day-woo hoo!
He was dark and built and hot like Treach from Naughty by Nature, but as a 13 year old. We held hands a few times, we smooched a couple times, and then he turned into Ike Turner. What 13 year old hits a chick? Seriously? WTF?? He smacked me once, pushed me into a wall another time, and took a swing at me. I was actually glad that he left me for a white girl. Let her be the punching bag.
I did get a chance to reconnect with the boy with the high top fade that totally ignored me when I was younger thanks to the fact that my best friend was a total hottie with giant boobs. I thought he liked me, he let me kick him in the balls, a fact that he denies to this day, and we never even got to kiss. Guess I should have refrained from the ball kicking.
Then HE walked on the bus...damn.
My parents had the forethought to have me on the waiting list for a program that takes underprivileged, inner-city kids and puts them into schools in nice, manicured suburbs. Great. In the third grade I went to my first day of school in the 'burbs.
I had spent hours, days picking out my first day of school dress, it was fabulous! Red dress with little blue, white and yellow flowers all over it, ruffled sleeves, red tights and shiny shoes! It was hott! Until...
The bus was 3 and a half hours late! Can you believe it? I was so upset! I sat on my stoop for the whole morning watching other kids in their best outfits getting picked up. And there I sat. At one point I thought I saw the bus, so I ran to the corner, and fell, tearing my tights. Dammit. Had to go back upstairs to the apartment to change. Double dammit. I didn't have any more red tights! White tights? Are you serious mom? Ughhh, fine. Red dress, white tights. Tragic.
A friend of mine describes me as a foal taking its first steps. I was tall, awkward, puffball of hair, weird colored eyes, and a Strawberry Shortcake lunchbox, wearing those damned white tights. The ride was a nightmare. Befuddled bus driver, restless kids, and a long ride to a strange place.
Talk about an entrance. Fashionably late is one thing, 4 hours late to school is a whole other ball of wax. So embarrassing. I arrived in time for lunch, and dined on the contents of my lunchbox. I was told that the next class was music-cool! I went to a performing arts school before, I totally have this! We were going to learn the recorder. double cool-my dad is a sound engineer, I know all about tape recorders! I'm gonna be a star!!! WTF is this plastic tube with holes in it? Ugh, 'burbs suck.
In my first days at school I realized that I was definitely different. Not just because of the clear delineation of the kids who were bussed in and the native burbanites, but it was on the bus too. I didn't live in "the 'hood", I wasn't dark skinned, my hair was almost blond, and my daddy was white. This was gonna be a long haul of shit.
And then there was the cutie pie I spotted on the bus. He was dark, and had a high top fade, and was loud, and silly and cute!!! There was also the suave boy I thought was so damn fine. He had a gumby cut, dimples and a flare for the dramatic.
Not to gloss over it all, but through the years I had crushes on a few boys in school, none of them reciprocated except for that kid with the gumby cut and dimples. I think he and his partner spend their summers in Fire Island and Provincetown. (I've always loved my gays!) So I turned my attentions back to the church.
I was so uncool there too! Tall is not an attribute when you're a kid! My BFF's brother was the cutest boy I'd ever seen. A half breed like me with shiny dark hair and lovely eyes. Never go too far with him though. She had a socket in her room that came out and he would watch me change from there. Cue me becoming an exhibitionist!
We spent a lot of time together and it was bound to happen one day. Since I was already a seasoned kisser thanks to my babysitter, I was totally up for the Seven Minutes in Heaven challenge! And there we were in the closet, staring at each other.
First we hugged, meh. He leaned in and said we were gonna kiss like they do on TV, so he smooched my cheek, meh. Then he said we were gonna kiss for real-bingo! Smoochie-booches and it was everything I thought it could be and more. Until he ran out of the closet.
By the next week he had told a few of the boys at the hall, and I was a marked woman. Mom went back into the hospital, I went back to aunties, and it was kinda like hitting a reset button. By the time I came back, I was a mystery again.
Going back and forth to school over the years did take its toll. And the boy with the high top fade barely acknowledged me, only to make fun. Eventually I couldn't take the daily torture that was the bus and I convinced my parents to let me take the T to school (public transport). That was the beginning of me feeling the independence I had craved for so long and all the time I wanted to listen to my walkman and read. Good times, until I got to school.
Junior high, still awkward, still tall, but with tits! I had a few crushes here too. A couple of kisses, and a lot more of the aforementioned rumors. One boy I was totally infatuated with actually gave me the time of day-woo hoo!
He was dark and built and hot like Treach from Naughty by Nature, but as a 13 year old. We held hands a few times, we smooched a couple times, and then he turned into Ike Turner. What 13 year old hits a chick? Seriously? WTF?? He smacked me once, pushed me into a wall another time, and took a swing at me. I was actually glad that he left me for a white girl. Let her be the punching bag.
I did get a chance to reconnect with the boy with the high top fade that totally ignored me when I was younger thanks to the fact that my best friend was a total hottie with giant boobs. I thought he liked me, he let me kick him in the balls, a fact that he denies to this day, and we never even got to kiss. Guess I should have refrained from the ball kicking.
Then HE walked on the bus...damn.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Rumor Mill
I believe that rumors are more dangerous than anything we as humans can do to each other. The malice that's behind your average rumor can grow exponentially with the rumor being repeated and passed from person to person. Being a novelty, I've had plenty of rumors about me put into the universe. I can still remember the very first one. It always makes me laugh.
In elementary school, kindergarten or first grade I believe, I had befriended a very pretty little girl who's family was not only in my congregation, but they lived right near my school and our mothers got along very well...until the rumors started.
I was friendly, outgoing and was having a great time making friends with others in class. Somehow, me being able to share toys in class translated to me sharing my lips with every boy in the class. WHAT?!?! I was so upset, disturbed, thrown for a loop!
Why would anyone say that? Who would say that? I've never gone and kissed anyone in the school playground and now my parents are all upset with me. I didn't do anything!
Well lo and behold, who made the rumor up? Who spread it all over school, to teachers and parents? Who would have told people in the congregation too? Oh my goodness, there was only one connection between the secular world and the congregation, and you guessed it.
How could she? I thought we were friends! What the hell? I never got an answer as to why she did it. Although she did tell me that her mommy told her the story of how I was letting boys kiss me in the playground and that her mommy said it was okay to tell other kids about that so they'd stay away from me. We basically never spoke again after that even though I saw her and her mom every once in a while. I guess I was better off without them, though I did feel bad my mother lost a friend over some bullshit.
Crazy how women are taught from such a young age to pit themselves against one another. Even crazier when it comes from a parent. Even crazier when a church turns the other cheek to this type of behavior.
Even though there was zero truth to the rumor, I always wondered, was it my friend that was the sandbox slut? But I don't want to start any rumors.
In elementary school, kindergarten or first grade I believe, I had befriended a very pretty little girl who's family was not only in my congregation, but they lived right near my school and our mothers got along very well...until the rumors started.
I was friendly, outgoing and was having a great time making friends with others in class. Somehow, me being able to share toys in class translated to me sharing my lips with every boy in the class. WHAT?!?! I was so upset, disturbed, thrown for a loop!
Why would anyone say that? Who would say that? I've never gone and kissed anyone in the school playground and now my parents are all upset with me. I didn't do anything!
Well lo and behold, who made the rumor up? Who spread it all over school, to teachers and parents? Who would have told people in the congregation too? Oh my goodness, there was only one connection between the secular world and the congregation, and you guessed it.
How could she? I thought we were friends! What the hell? I never got an answer as to why she did it. Although she did tell me that her mommy told her the story of how I was letting boys kiss me in the playground and that her mommy said it was okay to tell other kids about that so they'd stay away from me. We basically never spoke again after that even though I saw her and her mom every once in a while. I guess I was better off without them, though I did feel bad my mother lost a friend over some bullshit.
Crazy how women are taught from such a young age to pit themselves against one another. Even crazier when it comes from a parent. Even crazier when a church turns the other cheek to this type of behavior.
Even though there was zero truth to the rumor, I always wondered, was it my friend that was the sandbox slut? But I don't want to start any rumors.
So Where Did I Grow Up?
Good question, glad I asked.
My parents and I lived in the Mission Hill section of Boston when I was first born and moved to the Symphony/Fenway area when I was four.
As I mentioned, mom was sick and getting worse. I was little and dad couldn't do it all alone and take care of my mom in the hospital as well. Luckily mom has a that huge family and I was taken care of by them all , chiefly my eldest aunt.
I stayed with her, my maternal grandmother and a host of aunts, uncles and cousins. Living in this environment I saw a lot of shit. Crazy, beautiful, scary and wild shit.
We have a very tight family and every Sunday we had the proverbial "Sunday Dinner" at grandmas' house. People would come for the food, the laughs and the family. I think being a little kid in that kitchen watching my grandma cook is why I love cooking to this day.
So I would shuttle from my house, to aunties house, to my house, to grandmas house, to a friend of the family's house, and so on. This went on until I was about 10 years old or so. I did the math and by the time I was 18 my mom had spent 9 years in the hospital. Load of guilt, hold the onions, extra mustard please.
This feeling of being in constant flux probably didn't help the way I approach relationships, but I am an excellent packer, I can get ready without a full size mirror, and I don't hog the bathroom. I guess it paid off in its own unique way.
Being that I was never in the constant care of my parents I had the opportunity to have all sorts of run-ins with some pretty fucked up individuals. More shaping of the future relationships.
We all have the creepy uncle, and I was no exception. He was a total letch and I'm glad I stood up to him when I did. I have an idea of what the extent of his creepiness is but I'll spare you the dirty details. All I know is that he didn't get as far with me as he had hoped. Thank goodness.
I had a babysitter from when I was about 5 to 7 that was a sweet, sweet woman. She was in our congregation and lived in the neighborhood so it was a great fit for us. I could come back from school with her son, who was much older than me, and they would babysit me and his sister until my dad got home.
I was a tall kid, I'm 6' now, and have always been bigger than the other kids. Apparently, I was just his size. What started as a cute peck on the cheek evolved into a daily nightmare. I hated coming home from school after a while. He was a very curious boy and he decided to be more than curious with me. I remember the smell of his closet and it still makes me queasy if I happen to smell something similar.
I saw him once when we were both adults and he simply said he was so sorry for what he had done. He was so sincere, and I was ready to close that chapter of my life. I had never believed in forgiveness until then, until I looked into his eyes and saw his hurt. He was a kid too, and his life had been altered by his actions too. I thanked him, forgave him, and he cried. I can honestly say that I know what the term "closure" means to me.
I have no ill feelings toward them, and I realize that the early sexual experiences I had were for a reason. I could hold on to them, hate men and mistrust everyone that tries to come close to me. But how is that productive? How will that help me grow? I know the perpetrators were sick. They were fucked up, not me. I was a child-novelty. Tall, skinny, green eyes, curly light hair, and by all accounts, pretty. So they went after me, they fucked up, and they had the guilt. I don't. I feel bad for them, pity them, but I don't hate them, I am not angry with them. I've moved on. I grew up.
My parents and I lived in the Mission Hill section of Boston when I was first born and moved to the Symphony/Fenway area when I was four.
As I mentioned, mom was sick and getting worse. I was little and dad couldn't do it all alone and take care of my mom in the hospital as well. Luckily mom has a that huge family and I was taken care of by them all , chiefly my eldest aunt.
I stayed with her, my maternal grandmother and a host of aunts, uncles and cousins. Living in this environment I saw a lot of shit. Crazy, beautiful, scary and wild shit.
We have a very tight family and every Sunday we had the proverbial "Sunday Dinner" at grandmas' house. People would come for the food, the laughs and the family. I think being a little kid in that kitchen watching my grandma cook is why I love cooking to this day.
So I would shuttle from my house, to aunties house, to my house, to grandmas house, to a friend of the family's house, and so on. This went on until I was about 10 years old or so. I did the math and by the time I was 18 my mom had spent 9 years in the hospital. Load of guilt, hold the onions, extra mustard please.
This feeling of being in constant flux probably didn't help the way I approach relationships, but I am an excellent packer, I can get ready without a full size mirror, and I don't hog the bathroom. I guess it paid off in its own unique way.
Being that I was never in the constant care of my parents I had the opportunity to have all sorts of run-ins with some pretty fucked up individuals. More shaping of the future relationships.
We all have the creepy uncle, and I was no exception. He was a total letch and I'm glad I stood up to him when I did. I have an idea of what the extent of his creepiness is but I'll spare you the dirty details. All I know is that he didn't get as far with me as he had hoped. Thank goodness.
I had a babysitter from when I was about 5 to 7 that was a sweet, sweet woman. She was in our congregation and lived in the neighborhood so it was a great fit for us. I could come back from school with her son, who was much older than me, and they would babysit me and his sister until my dad got home.
I was a tall kid, I'm 6' now, and have always been bigger than the other kids. Apparently, I was just his size. What started as a cute peck on the cheek evolved into a daily nightmare. I hated coming home from school after a while. He was a very curious boy and he decided to be more than curious with me. I remember the smell of his closet and it still makes me queasy if I happen to smell something similar.
I saw him once when we were both adults and he simply said he was so sorry for what he had done. He was so sincere, and I was ready to close that chapter of my life. I had never believed in forgiveness until then, until I looked into his eyes and saw his hurt. He was a kid too, and his life had been altered by his actions too. I thanked him, forgave him, and he cried. I can honestly say that I know what the term "closure" means to me.
I have no ill feelings toward them, and I realize that the early sexual experiences I had were for a reason. I could hold on to them, hate men and mistrust everyone that tries to come close to me. But how is that productive? How will that help me grow? I know the perpetrators were sick. They were fucked up, not me. I was a child-novelty. Tall, skinny, green eyes, curly light hair, and by all accounts, pretty. So they went after me, they fucked up, and they had the guilt. I don't. I feel bad for them, pity them, but I don't hate them, I am not angry with them. I've moved on. I grew up.
Baseline
Okay, so the neuroses started early. I was born to an African-American mother and Caucasian father in Boston, MA. For the purposes of this blog I will refer to them as "black" and "white". I'm both, making me misceginated, so I can say whatever as far as I'm concerned.
My parents are the human embodiment of "opposites attract".
Mom was from a huge family of 11 kids that grew up in the predominately black neighborhoods of the South End-Cathedral Projects, and then later in Dorchester. The family was originally Seventh Day Adventist, mom going to parochial school and all, and they converted later to the Jehovah's Witness faith. (You getting it yet?) She is incredibly intelligent speaking 12 languages, holding an RN degree and knowing every random fact you could possibly imagine. She loves to read, loves crossword puzzles and can tell you what she had for dinner 34 years ago to the day. Had a SICK figure when she was younger. I firmly believe that the song "Brick House" was inspired by her!
When I was born there were complications after birth. She was diagnosed with Lupus and went through nearly 30 years of hell afterwards including multiple skin grafts, losing her right foot, and ulcer after ulcer. Not to mention her mental health suffering from the constant battery of her physical illness. I later introduced her to my rheumatologist who after all that time as a Lupus patient told her she had Rheumatoid Arthritis. She's still reeling...
My dad is from a town very close to Podunk, NY. (No, I'm not kidding) A small family of four kids in a rural town upstate. My grandmother was a fabulous cook from all accounts and a tough lady from the big city. Grandpa was an absolute doll who played 32 instruments and loved the NY Mets. My father says he loves that I was raised in the city, but I think he secretly wishes I had grown up in the country like him. His family were also JW's and upon accepting a missionary assignment in Montreal he left upstate NY for Canada.
Apparently a minister has to re-up their visa every few years and when my father had the choice of doing so in Buffalo or Boston, he chose Boston.
My parents met when after a bible study my mom's roommate told her there was a cute guy in the French Congregation that needed directions, or something to that effect. My mom spoke french, he has the most beautiful blue eyes you've ever seen, yadda yadda yadda, and they were together! My dad says he was ready to marry her a couple weeks after meeting her-such a romantic fella!
Mom and Dad are still together, 34 years later, and still living in Boston.
So, the whole point of that was that I was raised a Jehovah's Witness and I'm sure that played into a lot of the decisions I made in life as well as who I am today, but we'll get into that later...
My parents are the human embodiment of "opposites attract".
Mom was from a huge family of 11 kids that grew up in the predominately black neighborhoods of the South End-Cathedral Projects, and then later in Dorchester. The family was originally Seventh Day Adventist, mom going to parochial school and all, and they converted later to the Jehovah's Witness faith. (You getting it yet?) She is incredibly intelligent speaking 12 languages, holding an RN degree and knowing every random fact you could possibly imagine. She loves to read, loves crossword puzzles and can tell you what she had for dinner 34 years ago to the day. Had a SICK figure when she was younger. I firmly believe that the song "Brick House" was inspired by her!
When I was born there were complications after birth. She was diagnosed with Lupus and went through nearly 30 years of hell afterwards including multiple skin grafts, losing her right foot, and ulcer after ulcer. Not to mention her mental health suffering from the constant battery of her physical illness. I later introduced her to my rheumatologist who after all that time as a Lupus patient told her she had Rheumatoid Arthritis. She's still reeling...
My dad is from a town very close to Podunk, NY. (No, I'm not kidding) A small family of four kids in a rural town upstate. My grandmother was a fabulous cook from all accounts and a tough lady from the big city. Grandpa was an absolute doll who played 32 instruments and loved the NY Mets. My father says he loves that I was raised in the city, but I think he secretly wishes I had grown up in the country like him. His family were also JW's and upon accepting a missionary assignment in Montreal he left upstate NY for Canada.
Apparently a minister has to re-up their visa every few years and when my father had the choice of doing so in Buffalo or Boston, he chose Boston.
My parents met when after a bible study my mom's roommate told her there was a cute guy in the French Congregation that needed directions, or something to that effect. My mom spoke french, he has the most beautiful blue eyes you've ever seen, yadda yadda yadda, and they were together! My dad says he was ready to marry her a couple weeks after meeting her-such a romantic fella!
Mom and Dad are still together, 34 years later, and still living in Boston.
So, the whole point of that was that I was raised a Jehovah's Witness and I'm sure that played into a lot of the decisions I made in life as well as who I am today, but we'll get into that later...
In the Beginning
Well, I've had so many people tell me that my life sounds like a "Movie of the Week" or a "True Hollywood Story" that I decided I wanted to write a book. Only thing is, I have no idea how to write! Not sure how this is going to end up or who I'm gonna piss off, but hey, them's the breaks.
I've had an interesting life. Not saying its original, but interesting to say the least. I guess I'll start at the begining and then move into the men that molded me and how I ended up re-molding myself. I'm a constant work in progress.
This is gonna be tough, wish me luck
I've had an interesting life. Not saying its original, but interesting to say the least. I guess I'll start at the begining and then move into the men that molded me and how I ended up re-molding myself. I'm a constant work in progress.
This is gonna be tough, wish me luck
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