My contribution to,
A Song from My Story, a Story for My Song
. Inspired by the Kenny Chesney song,
Better as a Memory
. Special thanks to sbrooks103 for making this an exponentially better read than it was when it started and sharing a similar view of the quality of Olive Garden.
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We met like many of us meet the significant people in our lives, through a random collection of incidents beyond our control that fate brought us together. That those incidents happened mainly before we were born, which led us to being in the only Junior High in our hometown is irrelevant as a story always seems to be more mysterious when we use the word fate. We couldn't help what happened to us, it was predestined. The gods had determined our fate before we had ever laid eyes on each other. Or at least that is the line of bullshit that we tell ourselves when life doesn't go the way we wanted it to.
She swore that we knew each other the year before I remember meeting her, but since she wasn't in any of my classes I didn't remember her. I had enough trouble remembering the kids in my actual classes, everyone else were just random faces in the crowd unless I had been in class with them before or had played sports with them. Looking back, the faces in the hall just seem like a blur while I can still remember hers. Let's just call her Marie, and I guess you can call me Joe.
But to me, it was Junior High when we met. I can still remember looking into those brown eyes across the lunchroom and thinking she was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen. She seemed to be smart, funny, cute, she was a walking vision or at least she was to me.
Eighth grade would start slow but get amazingly better. She had struggled in the advanced math class so she had been sent to my math for morons class where, she quickly was the teacher's darling. I, on the other hand, had the math skills of a twice baked potato on a good day. Anything beyond basic math was and still is a lost cause for me. It really didn't help that her sitting nearby was a distraction.
Screw it, it is all her fault that I suck at math. If she had been ugly then I probably could have gone to Harvard to mop floors and ask people if they liked apples. But no, she had to sit next to me and ruin it for me.
So just a bit about me so when my weird personality comes out it makes sense.
I've known what I was going to do with my life since the time I could crawl. Dad would come home from his drill weekends and I would think he was G.I. Joe himself as he walked in the door. That he looked exactly like Sergeant Slaughter made it that much cooler. Going to the armory was better than going to McDonald's, in my eyes it was Combat Disney World. Reorganize the disgusting storage room? Awesome, how cool! Mom didn't like it when we built the machine gun pit in the backyard but Dad thought it was the greatest thing and still talks about it to this day.
I did what I thought I needed to get ready for my eventual job. I read a lot and I walked everywhere. When I mean everywhere, I mean I would walk all over town just rocking out to my tunes with my headphones plugged in and the world tuned out. Later on I would add running and expand my reach of the town. I had plenty of friends I hung out with at school but none of them lived near me so most of the time it was just me.
So just me on my own little planet, crushing on the cute brunette. I wasn't a bad kid but when siblings who go before you act up, you immediately get labeled a trouble-maker by their former teachers, and it is really hard to break those mental connections of your last name being associated with trouble. Getting kicked out of class for no reason sucked, even if the teachers apologized for doing it afterwards, so I just decided to minimize my frustration and made the executive decision to only go to school four days out of the week. That I skipped over half of the Mondays of the year and no one said a single word to me about it is a testament to how great of a student I was the days I was there, or that the school attendance policies didn't really mean much. Either way, I wasn't there to stare at her like a creeper. To be fair, most boys that age aren't really suave, so they come off as creepers as they just gaze at the object of their affection.
High School was more of the same. We only had a few classes together as she was off in the really smart classes while I was in the smart but doesn't really try groups. We did see each other at lunch every day, which was always a highlight to me. We each had our sports, she excelled at field hockey and softball while I just stuck to football. We both were athletic so we played pretty well. Our teammates weren't, so we often lost. It was just fun to play. Field hockey games overlapped with football practice so I couldn't watch her play but I could for softball. She'd come to the games and watched me.
In hindsight I can clearly see that she was interested in me, but I was stuck in my own little introverted world of my own making. In my own mind I'd somehow decided that since I was going to join the Army I didn't want to leave anyone but my family behind, so I didn't date anyone during my high school time. I didn't drink so I never went to parties. I was never lonely back then and even now I'm perfectly comfortable without anyone else around. It is just who I am.
We had our random interactions during out time. Classes, lunches, seeing each other in the hall. She worked as a lifeguard with some other friends of mine so I'd go visit them. Man did she look great in the red bathing suit while working on her tan. I'd write silly stories about me and my friends giving us funny superhero names. Some were actually funny, others were hurtful, but I was too much of a jerk to see it at the time (sorry, Susan, that was a really mean nickname).
She drove, I didn't. I walked to school despite a bus being available. That I had to walk right by her house was complete happenstance that was beyond my control. If she saw me walk by her house she would offer me a ride, and I'd reluctantly take it. That I refused rides from everyone else including my best friends was overlooked when she offered. I can still remember getting in her car and the Meredith Brooks song, "What Would Happen" was playing on the radio. Now that I think about it I think it was on CD.
Holy shit, looking back I was basically Ray Charles without the cool sunglasses. If you don't remember the song you can YouTube it and you'll understand why I'm kicking myself, now as it is pretty obvious to just about anyone but my clueless self.
Then came prom. And like any fairy tale story you know what happened. Yup, that's right, she went to prom with my best friend while I went with another friend who had asked me to go with her. He had crushed on her hard, and I couldn't have violated bro code to ask her out because he had stated his interest in her while I still kept my interest safely hidden. Once again, looking back, I'm pretty sure Marie hated my prom date. It is amazing how much clearer you can see the world after years have passed. She looked amazing in her dress, what it did to push up her breasts fueled my masturbatory fantasies for years to come. I was in my wide-brimmed hat phase, so in addition to my black tux and goatee, I had on my favorite black Stetson. I looked exactly like the schmuck I was. Prom was memorable, but that is easy to say when your date gets taken away in an ambulance.
After my date was taken away there were a couple of girls who wanted me to dance with them, but I just smiled at them and sat at the table with another friend who didn't dance either. Of course Marie was one of them, along with her best friend Sue and her pseudo friend Leigh. Despite being a lot older, I still don't understand female friend dynamics. Friends one week, sworn blood enemy the next. Wear the same dress and the other girl is suddenly the Antichrist while if I see another guy wearing the same clothing I obviously made a brilliant choice in what to wear, and I now have a new best friend to boot. Maybe someday I'll figure it out, but I'm betting probably not. Either way, they were still friends at that point. I think. Probably. Maybe it had something to do with me making out with Leigh on one of the rare occasions I went to a party. Fuck if I know but let's roll with it so we can move the story along.
After prom we hung out together, went and saw a movie, and then all went back to the shady motel where my date who had been released from the hospital, rejoined our merry band of misfits. I'm sorry but no cool prom sex story for me, while most people started to enjoy themselves I just went home. Yup, just a dork.
Graduation came and went. Most of the senior class went to parties on the beach. I stayed home and got ready for college. I was going to a school a couple of hours away that had a predominantly male student population that made it easy to decide what I was going to wear that day, so let's just call it what is was,
Sausagefest University. Sausage started its ritualistic freshmen hazing weeks before most of the regular students came back. I didn't leave campus again until Christmas, and I hadn't really kept in touch with anyone else from back home except for Sue. Let's talk about Sue. Sue was Marie's best friend. Sue is one of the nicest and sweetest people I've ever met. Like she dressed as a nun one year and it fit her to a T. Super nice person, even when I was being a dick to her (again, my bad). I enjoy writing (I enjoy it, I didn't say I was good at it), so I often wrote to my parents, and even Sue that semester, so she knew when I was going to be home.
Going home from Sausage U for two weeks was like being paroled from prison. No stupid rules to follow, just enjoying freedom or at least my version of it. I hadn't really talked to many of my old friends since I'd gone away to school but Sue, so she invited me out to an informal high school reunion that was conveniently going on at the same shady motel where the post-prom party had been held. It was nice seeing everyone again, and catching up on what they had been doing over the past few months. Most were curious about Sausage U and how different it must be.
Of course I lied and said how great it was. Bragging about being hazed doesn't go over well with most normal people.