Part two of my "Evolution of Me" series
(here's part one for all you slackers.)
So first off I'd like to say that I didn't begin writing about my butchy past to garner any kind of sympathy at all. I KNOW everyone went through a similiar awkward stage and that everyone goes through a wierd, middle school hell. I actually didn't have it that bad in middle school, compared to some. My acne was minimum and I had plenty of friends, most of whom I'm still friends with today. But sometimes, especially when you're a little boy crazy like I was, being anyone else other than the choice girls that sat at the popular table with the popular guys was like being the people waiting in line outside the new hip club, watching the hipper, prettier people dancing inside.
Crush One: Joe.
During an earthquake drill in the 7th grade, while we were under our desk bracing ourselves through the imaginary 7.1 earthquake, Joe kept making fun of me (about what, I can't remember). He finally tap danced on my last nerve and I cold cocked him. Hard. In the jaw. With my little bitty, angst fueled, midget fists. I punched him so hard, that I somehow cut the side his face, which you can see in our 7th grade yearbook. (Documented ass whoopin'. Can i get a wha? wha?) I will never forget the look on his face when he realized he had just gotten punched...by a girl. He was silenced by the power of the butch, which was then mixed with embarassment upon realizing that the guys behind us saw the whole thing and were laughing their asses off. Nowadays, I'm pretty positive I would have been arrested for assault (Pussification of America.. that's another blog post at another time..). But back then, he just gave me a dirty look and didn't speak to me. I felt so bad and strangely attracted to that hurt puppy dog look in his eyes. We were friends again after that, but ol' Joey Joe got the last laugh when a friend of mine asked him what he would say if I wanted to go to the dance with him. His response?
"Maybe, I don't know. She's like a sister you know?"
Now I was a "sister?" (a sister who kicked YO ASS!!.. but whatever..)
Note to self: Don't punch guys you have a crush on. Apparently, they don't like that.
Then there were other, long shot crushes:
-Cory (jock, "Elaine who?")
-Ty (jock "Elaine Wha?")
-Andy (jock "Ela..how do you say her name again?)
I remember nabbing a slow dance with Andy during a middle school dance (I was his charity case that night). A friend of mine said that he kept silently motioning to his friend and pointing at me while we were dancing, as if to say, "This is her.. I like her..!" I was so excited, until I found out he was pointing at the girl BEHIND ME.
Note to self: Always assume they're pointing at someone else.
Then FINALLY, an actual guy who took a chance on ol' Butchy Butcherson. Ralph. He gave me my first, very sloppy and confusing french kiss. (tongue everywhere, saliva in abundance..ew) I couldn't believe he actually liked ME, because he was cute and I knew of other girls who liked Ralph too. But I did not know how to be someone's "girlfriend." It just didn't come naturally to me. I remember being outside of class and hearing the bell ring to go inside. Other girlfriends leaned over and kissed their boyfriends goodbye at this time. Me? I took off to class, leaving Ralph to kiss my dust. Oops. I was his girlfriend for about a week and he has held the title for twenty some odd years of being the only guy who has ever dumped me. Congratulations Ralph!
Note to self: Boyfriends like it when you act like their girlfriend and kiss them a lot. hmmm.
But NONE of these guys compared to my MAIN MAN. I present to you ...(insert trumpets, horns, gospel choir music here)...MY ITALIAN GOD: Nathan N.
Now, I'm not entirely positive he was 100% Italian, let's just say his last name was very similar to the ice cream, Neopolitan. If that doesn't get him a mafia lifetime membership and a gold bracelet, I don't know what does.
Nathan was my personal James Dean. Nathan wasn't part of the popular group, the nerd group, the loner group, or any group. Oh no, the power of the Italian God was too strong to be corralled into some "group." When Nathan entered the room, I saw him walking in slow motion with an imaginary breeze in his hair and the aforementioned trumpets, horns and gospel choir, singing in the background. Nathan and I were friends, but the most interaction I got with Nathan was when I was playing "matchmaker" between him and my friend Heather. I was hating every minute of it, but the whole time I kept thinking (hoping) that he would open his eyes and turn his attention to me. (I had obviously read way too many romantic novels, because YOU KNOW that shit didn't happen in real life). Unfortunately, I was successful in hooking them up.
Note to self: setting up a date between your crush and some other girl? Not one of your better ideas.
On their first date, Nathan picked Heather up in a limo (see the Mafia connection coming into play here?) Heather called me as soon as their date was over to regale me with her tales of the Italian God and even though I was excited for her, the green muck of jealousy oozed out of every pore of my body (very messy). They eventually broke up after a week or two (in middle school, the equivalent of two years) and my pursuit of the Italian God continued. I remembered getting him presents for Christmas and even Halloween, when I gave everyone else cards. Nathan KNEW I hungered for the Italian lovin' and that bastard was such a tease. He would ignore me one day and the next day, he would call me on the phone and talk to me for an hour! One time, a girl invited him to her party and instead of dancing with the birthday girl or any other girl, he danced with ME the whole time! I was convinced he was warming up to the midget, so much so that I took the plunge and asked HIM to go with me to an after-school dance. And lo and behold the Italian God said YES!!!
I was so excited! I told everyone I was going to the dance with Nathan. I remember even getting "girly-ed" up for the dance. Nathan said he was going to meet me there after class.
Day of the dance. Everyone was waiting outside for the doors to open. No Nathan.
tick tock, tick tock.
The doors open, everyone goes inside, including myself. No Nathan.
tick tock, tick tock
(oh well, he's just late..)
tick tock, tick tock,
I've gone into the bathroom a billion times to touch up my lips with my bonnie bell lip smacker and ignore the girls that were staring at me.
(Is Nathan here? She's such a liar. I knew Nathan wouldn't go with HER.)
tick tock, tick tock
Dance half over.
Still no Nathan.
tick tock, tick tock,
Fighting back tears as I realized I've been stood up and evil girls, who also lusted for the Italian God, feigned sympathy for me.
Nathan's excuse? HE FORGOT.
Note to self: Refrain from kicking the ever loving shit out of him (remember the Joe incident) and never AGAIN pursue a guy. He needs to pursue you. Fuck this shit!
So after Nathan, I still had my crushes but it never went as far as doodling their names on my folder and giggling about it with my friends. My mommy just raised me to be way too proud to ever be in the position of pursuing a guy who had lukewarm feelings for me (my mom knows what's up).
I didn't get another boyfriend til' I was a sophomore in High School, when finally, with the help of my encouraging boyfriend building up the ol' self esteem (oh and the boobs showed up too), the butchy era came to a close...unleashing the ego-monster you see before you today.
Note to self: Boobs can get stuff. Use the power wisely.