Im Not Who I Used To Be

This story is different from anything I've ever written thus far, because it's being told from two different points of view; one male, and the other female. Anyway, I hope you like it, and for those who don't, well, that's life, isn't it?

MoogPlayer

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ME

Hi, my name is Michael Thomas Taylor, but my friends all call me Mike. I stand six feet, two inches tall, and weigh two hundred and twenty pounds. I have long, shoulder length, dark brown hair, and because of my Native American heritage on my father's side of the family, my eyes are such a dark brown color, that they almost look black. However, before I begin telling you this story I'll give you a little background information first.

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I began taking piano lessons when I was young, and because I also sang in the children's choir when I was little, I sang in the Concert Choir once I reached high school; proudly making All-State Choir from my ninth grade on through to my twelfth grade years. I was also a member of the school band, beginning from the seventh grade and eighth grade during junior high school, and then all throughout high school until I graduated. I was a skinny, scrawny kid with thick glasses and unruly hair when I was in school, which automatically earned me the title of geek and/or nerd, which more or less guaranteed me that no girl wouldn't even give me the time of day, much less go out on a date with me.

Don't get me wrong, I had a few female friends who were in some of the same clubs as me, the math club, the science club, and we all hung out together in the band hall because they liked to play music and were members of the band, just like me. But still though, they too, were called nerds by a lot of the other kids, simply because we were all friends...it was sad, really

My paternal cousin, Mark, who is the same age as me and was also into playing music, guitar and voice, had studied Karate from the time he could walk. Therefore, nobody ever messed with me or my friends, or else they got their asses handed to them by my cousin if they did.

I still remember when these two assholes, who were bullies to begin with, tried to beat me up when I was a freshman, one afternoon after school. But Mark beat the hell out of the both of them so badly, that they both ended up in the hospital, where they had to learn how to walk again...anyway, back to the story. After we graduated from high school, Mark and I both got music scholarships to the University of Houston, which wasn't that far from home and is where part of this story begins.

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Chapter One

UNIVERSITY OF HOUSTON

FRESHMAN YEAR

Mark had received his fifth degree, or Dan, as it's called, on his black belt that same year. One of the requirements in order for him to attain and hold that belt level, was that he had to teach. So, because he didn't really have the time to be able to go back home to teach in the dojo, and go to college at the same time, I agreed to be his student.

Mark was a great teacher because of his patience in helping me overcome my clumsiness when I first began Karate lessons. However, to make a long story short, the next four years in college, which now seem like a blur to me these days, was a turning point in my life where I not only received my Black Belt in Karate, but along with earning my B.A. in Music, I also finally learned to think for myself...

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During our freshman, sophomore and junior years in college, Mark taught me Karate and also received college credit for it, just as if he was going to class. But because of the fact that we there to study music first and foremost, we put together a bad ass rock and roll band that we named: "Odyssey". Don't ask me how we came up with that name because I still don't remember. However, by this time we'd been told by more than several people that we were extremely good; so good in fact, that we got asked to play at our graduation party by this really nice guy named Rick Means. His parents were not only hosting the rather huge party at his family's very large estate, but he was also the valedictorian of our class, and he and I had always gotten along very well, so well in fact, Rick and I are still friends to this day.

The members of Odyssey consisted of my paternal cousin, Mark Taylor, who played Guitar, the Karey Brothers, Kevin on Bass Guitar, and his older brother, Lee, on the drums. Of course I played Piano and Keyboards and was the lead singer, but because I was backed up vocally by my three bandmates, our four-part harmonic vocals, which is rare in a rock band, seemed to always yet effortlessly garner the undivided attention of every crowd we'd play in front of...

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Something else that began to happen as soon as our band began to do well, was that Mark suggested that I get contact lenses as opposed to those ugly glasses I wore. And once I achieved the level of Purple Belt in my Martial Arts training, which precedes Brown and then Black; Mark put me on a weight training regimen. As a result of that, not only did my strength increase, but my family genetics finally kicked making me grow taller and gain enough muscular bulk that looked more defined and not overly large.

Not too long after that the females who once called me a geek and/or a nerd, began to change their opinion of me, and therefore started to become much friendlier than before, once I set foot on campus at the beginning of my senior year. While I certainly looked different, much better according to the females I just spoke of, I was still the same person inside, and I immediately decided that if they didn't think I was good enough to be friends with before my looks first changed, then to hell them. I refused to have anything to do with them after the overall change was complete. That was also when I found out what a bunch of capricious and fickle bitches that girls could be.

Don't get me wrong, I didn't treat them as awful and ugly as they had treated me, nor did I say the painfully cruel and unkind things to them that they'd all too often said to me either. I simply ignored them and transparently looked right through them like they weren't even there. I still got invited to several parties that I'd never once been invited to before and went to them just to see how stupid and idiotic those people, "The Popular Crowd" acted once they started drinking and/or getting messed up on whatever drugs, that were available at these so-called "parties" of theirs, all of which I refused to have anything to do with.

Another thing I did was bring my fellow outcasts into the same circles I'd been invited into, regardless of who liked it or not. And because of the training I'd received from Mark, it only took my hand being forced only one time, kicking the shit ever-living out of this one asshole who tried to pick on one of my friends, to send a message to the rest of those snobby jerk-offs that they'd better start making it a habit to leave my friends and people like them alone, or suffer the consequences if not.

After the night of the event I just mentioned, I refused to go out with any of the rich bitches who'd started coming on to me; regardless of the number of invitations I'd begun to receive from them. However, I will only say this once before I continue any further and be done with it.

There was this one girl, though, who left a major impact on me while I was in college, and her name was Sarah Caine. Oh, my God, I thought she was the most beautiful and breathlessly stunning creature that God ever created. She had long blonde hair and deep blue eyes, along with a beautiful body as well. However, she, too, had treated me like I was beneath her and far out of my reach; and the worse she treated me, the more my stupid ass liked her. Still though, I secretly would've like to have been able to kiss her lovely and full lips and taste them just once, but it never happened, and I knew that it was a case of wishful thinking my part...

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HER

My name is Sarah Taylor, and this is a story about how I met the one man who I never thought in a million years would become my husband. From the first time I ever laid eyes on him at the beginning of our freshman year in college together, I thought that Michael Taylor was one of the biggest, and geekiest nerds I'd ever met. He was short, scrawny, with dark brown hair that always looked like he'd just come in out of a wind storm. He wore these thick, ugly, black-rimmed glasses, with coke bottle lenses, through which he constantly stared at me during the few classes we shared that first semester, and it made me very uncomfortable.

I made the stupid mistake of telling my boyfriend about it, and when he went to warn the little geek about staring at me, Michael's cousin, Mark, thrashed him so badly that he not only got kicked off of the football team for fighting, but he also lost his scholarship and was forced to leave college, for which he immediately laid the blame on me. That made me despise Michael Taylor's little nerdy ass that much more.

Every guy I ever went out with all told me that I was "Hot", so, like the spoiled arrogant child I was back then; I let it all go to my head and began to treat those who didn't measure up to my ridiculous criteria like they were all beneath me. I had long blonde hair and big blue eyes; and I'd always had my pick of boyfriends ever since my body began to fill out during the 7th grade. Of course I was the Belle of every ball and /or party I'd ever attended; and I thought that I was better than everyone else. I still thank God daily for making me finally understand that my stupid, arrogant, and childish pride would be my downfall if I didn't change my ways. That's why I desperately need to tell you what took place between then and now.

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It took a long time before I would admit to myself that my heart always began to beat a little faster, my breathing would become rapid and shallow, and small beads of perspiration would form on my forehead every time I looked into Michael's deep, dark brown eyes, hence the reason I could never look at him for more than a couple of seconds at most. I will say this, however; even though he stared at me, Michael was always kind, very gently polite, and never suggestive or crude in way, shape, or form. He also never once tried to come on to me, or any other girl he spoke to for that matter. And that became a problem for me, too... I soon discovered that I would feel a twinge of jealousy rising up inside of me whenever I would see Michael talking to and/or smiling at some other, oh hell, any other girl on campus besides me.

Another thing that began to bother me was the fact that I always found myself getting lost in the sound of his beautiful voice, every time I heard him sing with his band at some of the parties I went to. Even worse, I'd begun to start feeling and thinking that way about Michael now for the next three years after he first introduced himself to me. However, I could never once let him know how I felt, or I would've become a social pariah and/or an outcast among my group of friends.

Don't get me wrong, it wasn't like I didn't date other, and what I thought were far hotter guys while I was in college, I did. The real problem was that I now secretly began comparing every one of them to Michael, and then I would get pissed off at myself all over again, secretly crying myself to sleep because none of my dates ever measured up to him, nor had they had even come close. While Michael might not have been as good looking as the guys I dated back then, not a single one of them were as smart or as sweet as I refused to admit he was to me. Little did I realize what was going to take place at the beginning of my final year in college after our summer break?

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When our senior year began, every girl on the U of H campus, myself included, could've never imagined that we were all about to receive the shock of our lives. From the first moment that Michael appeared on campus our last and final year at the U of H, the first thing I noticed about him was that he had ditched the thick glasses he'd always worn and had obviously traded them in for contact lenses. Had I not seen it with my own two eyes I wouldn't have ever believed how he looked not only totally different, but also striking and beautifully handsome, especially now that he'd let his hair grow out.

What I once thought was an unkempt and disorderly mess, had now been replaced by shining, long, full, dark locks that hung down to rest upon his now solid and somewhat massive shoulders, just below his collar bone, exquisitely styled to enhance the striking features of a handsome and attractively rugged face that I never seemed to notice before now. He also looked like he'd gained several pounds of muscle weight, too, which only added to his new appeal. Still though, after three years of ignoring Michael; my selfish ego refused to let me see him as anything other than just a nerdy geek, regardless of the heartbreaker that he'd now become. Damn, did I just say that?

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Once we all graduated, I thought I'd never see Michael again, but I was so very wrong in so very many ways. Sure I knew that he played in a band with his cousin, as I'd attended my fair share of fraternity and sorority parties, ninety percent of which Michael and his band, "Odyssey," had been hired to play at. Once again, my selfish and immature ego still refused to let me see Michael as anything other than the nerdy geek I'd always perceived him to be, but secretly I would be totally, yet greatly pleased when I would find myself falling under the spell that his rich and beautiful voice would cast upon me whenever I heard him sing. Little did I realize the impact it would make on me when I later discovered what he and his band would eventually do?

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The last time I saw Michael was when he and his band played at our graduation party. I never admitted it to anyone that I thought he looked as beautiful as he sounded that night, least I ruin my reputation. But like I just said, if I'd been seen so much as even talking to him by any of my shallow and stupidly jealous friends, they wouldn't have let their shirt-tails hit their asses before they would've ran and told my current boyfriend, that I'd been seen talking to a nerd. Damn, peer pressure really sucked.

Still though, I figured that I'd probably never see him again, so, I wanted to say goodbye to him, regardless. Plus, my conscience was screaming at me to at least apologize to him for the terrible way I'd treated him all throughout school. I only hoped that he would be able to forgive me.

That night, after the band had finished playing and the party was winding down, I saw Michael step off of the stage and begin making his way toward our table until my clearly drunk boyfriend, Dennis Worley, starting defensive middle linebacker for the U of H's football team, the Houston Cougars, suddenly appeared beside me at the table where I'd been sitting.

All of a sudden he unexpectedly and very roughly grabbed me by the arm, his grip on me being so strong that it left me with little choice but to stand up as Dennis drunkenly slurred, "C'mon baby. How about you and I go around the corner of the house for a little nookie? Besides, you once told me that it excited you to risk the chance of getting caught fucking in public," as he crudely tried shoving his hand up my skirt.

"Stop that, Dennis," I angrily replied, pushing him away from me, "You know that I can't stand being around you when you've been drinking."

"YOU'RE COMING WITH ME, DAMMIT," he angrily roared, loud enough for everyone at the party to hear him, his right index finger poking me in the chest hard enough to knock me back into the table I'd just been sitting at less than thirty seconds ago. It made me lose my balance and then fall to the ground, as he loudly yelled, "YOU'RE MY BITCH AND YOU'LL DO AS YOU'RE FUCKING TOLD!"

It suddenly felt like my left arm was literally being ripped away from my shoulder, the pain so intense it literally made me scream, as he yanked me up by the arm as hard as he could and attempted to drag me away. I tried to resist and get away from him, but the moment I regained my footing; I felt an extremely hard, very painful jarring sensation that made my head feel like it was about to explode, and the last thing I remembered was seeing his fist leaving my face, and then all of a sudden my vision went black.

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ME

I saw Sarah the moment she walked into the back yard of the people's home who were hosting the party we were playing at. Of course she looked as beautiful as always, which brought a smile to my face at something as simple as the way her hair silently caressed her angelic face. I knew that this was probably going to be the last time we ever saw one another and I was bound and determined to talk to her so that I could at least make an honest effort to tell her that I was hopelessly in love with her, and had been for a very long time, regardless of the negative reaction that I knew she was going to have at what I wanted to tell her..

I'd made it a point to dress and look my very best that night, with the hope that there might be something, anything about me that appealed to Sarah. She'd been without male companionship the whole night, and the moment we finished playing the very last song of our very last set; I stepped off of the stage and told my band mates that I would be back in a few minutes to finish helping them break down our gear.

I was making my way towards Sarah in order to talk to her when her boyfriend suddenly appeared by her side and began saying something to her that I couldn't hear. Just then she pushed him away, trying, with little success, to remove his hand from beneath her skirt. All at once he began shouting obscenities at her that were more than loud enough for everyone at the party to hear, poking her in the chest with his index finger hard enough to knock her into the table she'd been sitting at with her friends, after which she lost her balance and then fell to the ground.

I moved as quickly as I could, desperately trying to navigate my way through the massive crowd in order to get to her before this asshole could hurt her any more than he obviously already had. I wasn't fast enough though, because the moment I cleared the crowd and was only a few feet away, I saw his fist connecting with Sarah's face. However, and this is something which I rarely did, if ever, the moment I saw Sarah's beautiful face contorted in the pain I knew she had to feeling from the punch this asshole gave her; the last thing I remembered was that my vision went snow-blind white because of the absolute and inexorable rage that suddenly exploded inside of me.

Mark and Kevin told me the next morning that it took six people to pull me off of that asshole whose name I found out was Dennis Worley. Mark told me that when Dennis Worley pulled a .38 revolver from his pocket and pointed it at me; and the monstrous anger that I took out on that worthless piece of shit resulted six broken ribs, accompanied by compound fractures which shattered every bone in both of his arms and legs, not to mention that I broke his Thoracic vertebrae numbering nine to twelve, as well as all five of the vertebrae in his Lumbar Spine, which would not only put this animal in a wheelchair for the rest of his life, but also shatter any and all hopes he had of ever playing professional football. He also suffered the loss of twenty-four teeth and was given two hundred and seventy-nine stiches that covered every surface on his body.

His family tried to file aggravated assault charges against me, but when the people who were hosting the party, as well as over ninety percent of the people at the party all informed the police that I had not only stopped Worley from viciously attacking Sarah, but that I had also saved her from imminent rape. And after the police found the gun that Worley had pulled on me, any and all charges against me were immediately dropped, allowing me to be able to lift an unconscious Sarah into my arms and then carry her to my car, from which I drove her to the newly built Texas Women's Hospital...