In yesterday's post, I talked about everything that happened the day I was taken into police custody. I will now let you know what happened the day after and beyond.
As expected, the boys who had seen me being detained at the store did blab to everyone about me being arrested. I could hear people talking behind my back. In my English class, someone made the comment and the girl in front of me asked me, "That's not true, is it?" I muttered it was true. She tried to get more information out of me, but I ignored her.
Some other boys made jokes like inviting me to go with them to shoplift stuff. It was a really hard day to get through. But when the day was over, no one really ever brought it up again.
Getting through that day in school was the easy part. I still had to go see the juvenile officer with my parents. That took place a week later. We went after school. When we got there, I saw the officer talking to someone I knew from school. This person was someone like me, somewhat geeky. He was there by himself. I never saw him as the type of person who would have gotten in enough trouble that he would be getting a solo meeting with the officer, but I guess if your parents give you too much time to yourself, you eventually get into trouble on a regular basis.
After the officer finished with the previous appointment, we went in and sat down. Mom started crying right away. The officer didn't treat my shoplifting like it was that big of a deal. He said that he didn't think I was at risk to do it again and getting caught probably scared all the criminal out of me. He told them to never talk about the incident again and everything would be okay.
I don't know that I wouldn't have shoplifted again. I had a decision to make right there and then. I knew what my mistake was: I was aware that I was being watched and I chose to ignore that. I would have known in the future when people were keeping their eye on me and could avoid being caught with evidence on me. As it turned out, I decided to be the good little boy and not shoplift ever again.
In the end, it was the right decision to make. I'm certain that despite my intuition, I would have been caught many more times and there would have just been more humiliation at school.
20 years later, my Mom and I discussed the incident. When I was arrested, Mom was under the impression that I had only shoplifted that time and one other time before because it was on the police report that the cashier had previously seen me take something. I told her that I had actually been shoplifting for six months before I was caught. Since it was 20 years later and she was on depression medication, Mom didn't treat it like a big deal.
This incident made me realize that it must be tough to be a parent when your kids do things that you didn't do yourself when you were their age. My parents claim they never stole anything, so they didn't know how to react when I told them I got caught. Are other parents who stole in their youth better equipped to deal with their children going down the same path? If it weren't for that juvenile officer giving them a positive outlook, I probably would have lived under their scrutiny for the rest of my life.
Okay, so I stole. If my son steals and gets caught, I have a pretty good feel for how the situation should be handled. However, I don't know what I would do if he starts doing drugs, gets in a gang or does harder crimes. I don't have experience with that. This is probably the scariest aspect of parenthood.
Thursday, March 27, 2014
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
Arrested for shoplifting, Part 1
It may surprise you to find out that I have somewhat of a criminal background. During the summer of 1979, I somehow started shoplifting. It was kind of stupid, because I always had money on me to pay for the items I stole.
It started with fireworks. I went into the convenience store just a couple of blocks away and would walk out with a few rockets. At first, in order to avoid suspicion, I would buy some candy so it look like I was an average customer. After awhile, I just took what I wanted and left the store.
This continued for six months. Mostly, I stole candy and snacks. At one point, I stole some 8mm film from Gibson's. That was the same place I had the film developed. I wondered if they ever figured out that I was the one who stole a few boxes from them, because I know I was just about the only person in town who had 8mm film developed there.
During that six months, it seemed like no one had any indication that I was stealing from them. It made me realize that there are a lot of people out there who commit crime and it takes them a long time to get caught. When somebody is on trial for a car theft or something, I can see that this was probably not the first time they had stolen a car. If everybody got caught the first time they committed a crime, there would be a lot less crime. However, achieving that is impossible, so people get used to stealing things without having to look over their shoulders all the time.
This all changed for me one day. I was at the Bulldog Superette, which was right next to the auditorium. Late one afternoon after Drama class, I was about to shoplift some candy. However, I looked at the front counter and saw one of the cashiers staring right at me. I wondered if she had seen me take something before. She kept keeping her eye on me. I figured I'd better not shoplift anything and bought some candy.
Later, I figured out what had happened. The day before, I stuffed a candy bar in my pocket. All of a sudden, I saw Roz leaving the store. Since I was still in stalker mode at that time, I bolted out the door so I could catch up with her and try to talk her into getting back together with me. The bolt out the door probably aroused suspicion.
The next day turned out to be a big day for me. When I went to choir class, I found out I had made the All-State choir. This was exciting. Rod had also made it, along with about five other people. I was the only sophomore who made the cut. I wasn't expecting to qualify, but it was great. After Drama class, we were preparing to start rehearsing for our Evening of One Acts. I ran to the Bulldog Superette to get a snack while we were waiting for rehearsal to start.
At the store, I saw the woman who had been staring at me the day before walk toward the back. I figured the heat was off. I took a candy bar and put it in my pocket. As I started toward the door, the other cashier told me to stop, that she needed to talk to me. She was in the middle of ringing up a customer. I quickly tried to ditch the candy nearby, but she finished before I could do anything. I attempted to charm my way out of it and offered to pay for the candy. The other woman came from the back and said she saw me take it.
They said they were going to call the cops. I had to wait there until they arrived. During the 10 minutes it took for someone to get there, a couple of people I knew from school came in. They managed to find out that I had been busted for shoplifting. I knew this was going to get all over school the next day.
Finally, the officer showed up, took the cashier's statement and took me out to the police car. He allowed me to ride in the front seat, which was worse than riding in the caged backseat. I felt like everyone could see me and know that I was under arrest for stealing.
We got to the station. The first thing they tried to do was call my parents. They weren't home yet. I was afraid they were going to throw me in juvenile detention while I waited for them to pick me up. Make no mistake, I did not want to be locked up in there. I knew there were some guys in there who liked to act all scary. I know I would have ended up peeing my pants before my parents came to pick me up.
While I was waiting for them to figure out what to do, I saw my ninth grade choir teacher, Ms. F, sitting at the dispatch switchboard. I had heard she had gotten a job with the police department. As I mentioned in the earlier post about my experiences with her, I would have just loved to have walked up to her and shoved my All-State victory in her face, since she had denied me my opportunity to audition for All-State the year before. It just didn't look good that I was in police custody.
They decided to just take me back to the auditorium, where my car was. (Thank goodness! I guess they knew I wouldn't survive 30 minutes in there.) They told me I had to tell my parents and gave me a copy of the police report. They also said that they would have to call the juvenile officer to set up a meeting with him.
The officer drove me back to the auditorium. Fortunately, everyone was inside. I ran in and grabbed my stuff. The others asked, "Hey, Fayd! Where have you been?" I muttered something about getting caught up in something and ran out of the auditorium. I did not feel like hanging around and rehearsing.
When I got home, Mom and Dad were there. Mom was in the bathroom fixing her hair. I told her I had some good news and bad news. She asked for the bad news. I told her I got arrested for shoplifting. She started to cry and scream at me. Dad didn't really say anything. After about an hour of crying and lecturing, Mom finally asked, "So, what's the good news?" I told her about All-State. She was still upset.
I thought I could cover this all in one post. I was wrong. I will cover what happened at school the next day tomorrow.
It started with fireworks. I went into the convenience store just a couple of blocks away and would walk out with a few rockets. At first, in order to avoid suspicion, I would buy some candy so it look like I was an average customer. After awhile, I just took what I wanted and left the store.
This continued for six months. Mostly, I stole candy and snacks. At one point, I stole some 8mm film from Gibson's. That was the same place I had the film developed. I wondered if they ever figured out that I was the one who stole a few boxes from them, because I know I was just about the only person in town who had 8mm film developed there.
During that six months, it seemed like no one had any indication that I was stealing from them. It made me realize that there are a lot of people out there who commit crime and it takes them a long time to get caught. When somebody is on trial for a car theft or something, I can see that this was probably not the first time they had stolen a car. If everybody got caught the first time they committed a crime, there would be a lot less crime. However, achieving that is impossible, so people get used to stealing things without having to look over their shoulders all the time.
This all changed for me one day. I was at the Bulldog Superette, which was right next to the auditorium. Late one afternoon after Drama class, I was about to shoplift some candy. However, I looked at the front counter and saw one of the cashiers staring right at me. I wondered if she had seen me take something before. She kept keeping her eye on me. I figured I'd better not shoplift anything and bought some candy.
Later, I figured out what had happened. The day before, I stuffed a candy bar in my pocket. All of a sudden, I saw Roz leaving the store. Since I was still in stalker mode at that time, I bolted out the door so I could catch up with her and try to talk her into getting back together with me. The bolt out the door probably aroused suspicion.
The next day turned out to be a big day for me. When I went to choir class, I found out I had made the All-State choir. This was exciting. Rod had also made it, along with about five other people. I was the only sophomore who made the cut. I wasn't expecting to qualify, but it was great. After Drama class, we were preparing to start rehearsing for our Evening of One Acts. I ran to the Bulldog Superette to get a snack while we were waiting for rehearsal to start.
At the store, I saw the woman who had been staring at me the day before walk toward the back. I figured the heat was off. I took a candy bar and put it in my pocket. As I started toward the door, the other cashier told me to stop, that she needed to talk to me. She was in the middle of ringing up a customer. I quickly tried to ditch the candy nearby, but she finished before I could do anything. I attempted to charm my way out of it and offered to pay for the candy. The other woman came from the back and said she saw me take it.
They said they were going to call the cops. I had to wait there until they arrived. During the 10 minutes it took for someone to get there, a couple of people I knew from school came in. They managed to find out that I had been busted for shoplifting. I knew this was going to get all over school the next day.
Finally, the officer showed up, took the cashier's statement and took me out to the police car. He allowed me to ride in the front seat, which was worse than riding in the caged backseat. I felt like everyone could see me and know that I was under arrest for stealing.
We got to the station. The first thing they tried to do was call my parents. They weren't home yet. I was afraid they were going to throw me in juvenile detention while I waited for them to pick me up. Make no mistake, I did not want to be locked up in there. I knew there were some guys in there who liked to act all scary. I know I would have ended up peeing my pants before my parents came to pick me up.
While I was waiting for them to figure out what to do, I saw my ninth grade choir teacher, Ms. F, sitting at the dispatch switchboard. I had heard she had gotten a job with the police department. As I mentioned in the earlier post about my experiences with her, I would have just loved to have walked up to her and shoved my All-State victory in her face, since she had denied me my opportunity to audition for All-State the year before. It just didn't look good that I was in police custody.
They decided to just take me back to the auditorium, where my car was. (Thank goodness! I guess they knew I wouldn't survive 30 minutes in there.) They told me I had to tell my parents and gave me a copy of the police report. They also said that they would have to call the juvenile officer to set up a meeting with him.
The officer drove me back to the auditorium. Fortunately, everyone was inside. I ran in and grabbed my stuff. The others asked, "Hey, Fayd! Where have you been?" I muttered something about getting caught up in something and ran out of the auditorium. I did not feel like hanging around and rehearsing.
When I got home, Mom and Dad were there. Mom was in the bathroom fixing her hair. I told her I had some good news and bad news. She asked for the bad news. I told her I got arrested for shoplifting. She started to cry and scream at me. Dad didn't really say anything. After about an hour of crying and lecturing, Mom finally asked, "So, what's the good news?" I told her about All-State. She was still upset.
I thought I could cover this all in one post. I was wrong. I will cover what happened at school the next day tomorrow.
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
I used to be homophobic
The headline of this post pretty much sums up my feelings toward homosexuals during my youth. However, I did not come by this attitude all on my own. I actually had some help.
I should start by letting you know that my parents never once brought up the subject of people of the same sex becoming romantically involved with each other. This means I acquired no pre-conceived prejudices from them. My notions actually came from my peers.
I wasn't aware that people of the same sex could have feelings for each other until I was 13 years old. The fall of 1978 was when the series "Soap" began its run and featured Billy Crystal as a gay character and he later had a roommate who was a lesbian. While I found this interesting on TV, I never really felt like it was something that would appeal to me. However, I never saw it as something wrong, just something that was unaccepted, very much like it's unaccepted to pick your nose in public, but not exactly wrong.
That perception changed when I was in the 10th grade. One day, one of the cowboy twerps (these were guys who wore the cowboy hats without really knowing what it was like to be a real cowboy, like my grandfather) got it in his head that I was gay. He started by calling me "faggot" when I walked by him. Before classes started one day, he decided that if would be fun to knock around a gay guy and got some of his buddies to join in.
They ran me outside and threw me on the ground. They got on top of me and started punching me around my body for what seemed to be about ten minutes. (It was probably closer to one or two minutes.) At first, no one tried punching me in the face. I just got a few bruises from the first part of the beating, but no broken bones.
Right when everyone had gotten their fill of punching me around, this one guy came up while I was still on the ground and started kicking me in the head. It felt like he kicked me about 10 times while everyone else was cheering him on. I had to keep repositioning myself so he would only hit the back or the side of my head. After it was over, everyone just walked away.
I never had anything like that happen to me ever again. However, it was enough to make me really despise homosexuals. I guess, after decades of reflection, the main problem was that it made me question my own sexual orientation. I had always heard stories about some homosexuals who had been bullied for being gay even though they denied it at the time. However, they eventually determined that they were indeed gay. Does that mean the bullies were more perceptive to that person's sexual preference? Does that mean they were justified in beating them up? Obviously, the answer to the last question is no.
After a couple of years, the bitterness of that beating started wearing thin. Quite by accident I found out that one of those guys who beat me up turned out to be gay. It was the person who kicked me in the head! All those emotions I felt at the time immediately rose back to the surface and they lingered for a very, very long time.
I honestly felt like I was forced to suffer for the sins of homosexuals. I could understand if he didn't want to become involved or try to put a stop to it. However, he joined in. I guess he was glad it wasn't him and took measures to make sure he wasn't next on the list. It still wasn't right. Some would say this was karma getting back at me for that time Rad was locked in the bathroom while I just stood by and laughed.
My homophobia took a stronger hold this round and didn't let go for years. I just knew if a gay man came up and propositioned me, I was going to punch him in the face. I wanted to cause some pain, as much pain as I felt. It was payback time.
This attitude persisted, although it was bit by bit being chipped away. During my freshman year in college, I had heard that this one English professor was gay. I decided to take his class during the spring semester and just be a jerk student to him. I felt it would be some kind of revenge for what happened to me three years earlier.
This professor was an accomplished writer. He had written several books of poetry, was always having poems published by obscure periodicals and was working on a book about T.S. Eliot in which he had access to his papers. I didn't realize it at the time, but he was considered the toughest English professor at the school. If I had known that, I probably wouldn't have taken his class after the drubbing I received from another English professor the previous semester.
The class I took under him had us reading short stories, writing essays and two research papers. During class, I would make all kinds of smart aleck comments and talked back to him frequently. I guess I was doing it so much that it became an automatic response of sorts. At one point, he asked my opinion on one of the short stories. I replied, "I didn't read it," and he went on to the next student. After class, one of the other students said, "Oh, man! I thought he was going to yell at you!" "Why?" "Because the way you told him you didn't read the story, it sounded like, 'I didn't read it, you dumbass!'"
The time came for our first essay. It was supposed to be about our impressions about the first three short stories we read. I didn't put too much effort into it. I turned in the paper. When I got it back, I was surprised to see that he had given me an A-. This was good. Then, he said that out of the two classes he was teaching, he only gave out two A's. I was stunned. This was when I figured out he was a tough professor on grades.
I continued to get A's on the rest of my projects for the semester. This was even though I was being a jerk in class, although that had dwindled down considerably over the next four months. I became familiar with his writings and was very flattered that he saw fit to give my material A's. I felt bad for wanting to be a jerk to him just because he was gay. That experience took a considerable chunk away from my homophobia. I found that I could have admiration for a gay man, just as I could for any other person who was straight.
Many of those chips remained until I was 25 years old. During that time, I had met and worked with many homosexual people. I looked back and realized that for my entire life, I had never had any gay men proposition me and I likely never would. I never really had anything to fear.
However, I still feel little twinges of my homophobia pulling at me from time to time when I meet someone for the first time and determine that they are gay. It wouldn't surprise to find that I might act a little different around gay strangers to the point that they might pick up on a bit of my former self. To the best of my knowledge, no one has ever said anything to me that might indicate that might be true. This is somewhat similar to reformed racists who have trained themselves to tolerate people they once expressed hatred to, but still have a few episodes in which their old thoughts will rise to the surface for a few milliseconds.
In time, I hope they go away completely.
I should start by letting you know that my parents never once brought up the subject of people of the same sex becoming romantically involved with each other. This means I acquired no pre-conceived prejudices from them. My notions actually came from my peers.
I wasn't aware that people of the same sex could have feelings for each other until I was 13 years old. The fall of 1978 was when the series "Soap" began its run and featured Billy Crystal as a gay character and he later had a roommate who was a lesbian. While I found this interesting on TV, I never really felt like it was something that would appeal to me. However, I never saw it as something wrong, just something that was unaccepted, very much like it's unaccepted to pick your nose in public, but not exactly wrong.
That perception changed when I was in the 10th grade. One day, one of the cowboy twerps (these were guys who wore the cowboy hats without really knowing what it was like to be a real cowboy, like my grandfather) got it in his head that I was gay. He started by calling me "faggot" when I walked by him. Before classes started one day, he decided that if would be fun to knock around a gay guy and got some of his buddies to join in.
They ran me outside and threw me on the ground. They got on top of me and started punching me around my body for what seemed to be about ten minutes. (It was probably closer to one or two minutes.) At first, no one tried punching me in the face. I just got a few bruises from the first part of the beating, but no broken bones.
Right when everyone had gotten their fill of punching me around, this one guy came up while I was still on the ground and started kicking me in the head. It felt like he kicked me about 10 times while everyone else was cheering him on. I had to keep repositioning myself so he would only hit the back or the side of my head. After it was over, everyone just walked away.
I never had anything like that happen to me ever again. However, it was enough to make me really despise homosexuals. I guess, after decades of reflection, the main problem was that it made me question my own sexual orientation. I had always heard stories about some homosexuals who had been bullied for being gay even though they denied it at the time. However, they eventually determined that they were indeed gay. Does that mean the bullies were more perceptive to that person's sexual preference? Does that mean they were justified in beating them up? Obviously, the answer to the last question is no.
After a couple of years, the bitterness of that beating started wearing thin. Quite by accident I found out that one of those guys who beat me up turned out to be gay. It was the person who kicked me in the head! All those emotions I felt at the time immediately rose back to the surface and they lingered for a very, very long time.
I honestly felt like I was forced to suffer for the sins of homosexuals. I could understand if he didn't want to become involved or try to put a stop to it. However, he joined in. I guess he was glad it wasn't him and took measures to make sure he wasn't next on the list. It still wasn't right. Some would say this was karma getting back at me for that time Rad was locked in the bathroom while I just stood by and laughed.
My homophobia took a stronger hold this round and didn't let go for years. I just knew if a gay man came up and propositioned me, I was going to punch him in the face. I wanted to cause some pain, as much pain as I felt. It was payback time.
This attitude persisted, although it was bit by bit being chipped away. During my freshman year in college, I had heard that this one English professor was gay. I decided to take his class during the spring semester and just be a jerk student to him. I felt it would be some kind of revenge for what happened to me three years earlier.
This professor was an accomplished writer. He had written several books of poetry, was always having poems published by obscure periodicals and was working on a book about T.S. Eliot in which he had access to his papers. I didn't realize it at the time, but he was considered the toughest English professor at the school. If I had known that, I probably wouldn't have taken his class after the drubbing I received from another English professor the previous semester.
The class I took under him had us reading short stories, writing essays and two research papers. During class, I would make all kinds of smart aleck comments and talked back to him frequently. I guess I was doing it so much that it became an automatic response of sorts. At one point, he asked my opinion on one of the short stories. I replied, "I didn't read it," and he went on to the next student. After class, one of the other students said, "Oh, man! I thought he was going to yell at you!" "Why?" "Because the way you told him you didn't read the story, it sounded like, 'I didn't read it, you dumbass!'"
The time came for our first essay. It was supposed to be about our impressions about the first three short stories we read. I didn't put too much effort into it. I turned in the paper. When I got it back, I was surprised to see that he had given me an A-. This was good. Then, he said that out of the two classes he was teaching, he only gave out two A's. I was stunned. This was when I figured out he was a tough professor on grades.
I continued to get A's on the rest of my projects for the semester. This was even though I was being a jerk in class, although that had dwindled down considerably over the next four months. I became familiar with his writings and was very flattered that he saw fit to give my material A's. I felt bad for wanting to be a jerk to him just because he was gay. That experience took a considerable chunk away from my homophobia. I found that I could have admiration for a gay man, just as I could for any other person who was straight.
Many of those chips remained until I was 25 years old. During that time, I had met and worked with many homosexual people. I looked back and realized that for my entire life, I had never had any gay men proposition me and I likely never would. I never really had anything to fear.
However, I still feel little twinges of my homophobia pulling at me from time to time when I meet someone for the first time and determine that they are gay. It wouldn't surprise to find that I might act a little different around gay strangers to the point that they might pick up on a bit of my former self. To the best of my knowledge, no one has ever said anything to me that might indicate that might be true. This is somewhat similar to reformed racists who have trained themselves to tolerate people they once expressed hatred to, but still have a few episodes in which their old thoughts will rise to the surface for a few milliseconds.
In time, I hope they go away completely.
Monday, March 24, 2014
My Dad was my main competition
There is one thing I have to say about my father: He is a REAL man. Think Ron Swanson on "Parks and Recreation." He knows how to work on cars, how to re-model a home, work on plumbing and how to build things. My father is the epitome of masulinity. Even though he stood at 5' 11 1/2" most of his life, people think he is a much larger person. I'm pretty certain my Dad could beat up most other peoples' fathers. I've never seen my father cry.
I was aware that I was expected to measure up to my father. Somehow, that didn't happen. I knew that things would be different for me. I had seen photos of him when he was a teenager. I did not develop like him. I knew I would just be this scrawny guy who was probably going to need help doing everything that his Dad could do all by himself.
My Dad helped me in my participation in extra-curricular activities. When I was in the Drama club, he would use his expertise to help us build sets. He said he enjoyed being close to me and seeing me do something that I enjoyed. He just enjoyed putting things together.
During our production of "Arsenic and Old Lace," a couple of the girls in the production were watching my Dad work on the sets and one of them said, "Fayd's father is really good looking!" The other said, "You're right, he is."
When I heard about this, I was like, "Really? The girls like my Dad, but don't see me that way?" That's terrible! It made me wish my Dad wasn't so good at doing things, so he wouldn't have to be around taking all the attention away from me.
I know that's not how it really is, but it certainly made me feel like I was never going to reach his standard of manhood. Knowing that I was never going to be considered as good-looking as my father always bothered me when I was growing up. It also made me afraid to have any future girlfriends meet him. They might like him better than me, and while they wouldn't try anything with them, it would make them realize what they did not have with me and go looking for it somewhere else.
However, I found out with my final girlfriend (the one who would become Ms. Ogolon) that I could make him appear less attractive by telling about how Loyd and I would frequently receive harsh discipline from him. In the end, it didn't matter. None of my girlfriends ever said anything about finding him attractive. I guess they all had way too much class to tell me something like that. (And trust me, many of my girlfriends did not have much in the way of class.)
At any rate, I'm glad I was able to become my own person instead of trying to fit in his shoes. That's the way everyone needs to be in regards to their parents.
I was aware that I was expected to measure up to my father. Somehow, that didn't happen. I knew that things would be different for me. I had seen photos of him when he was a teenager. I did not develop like him. I knew I would just be this scrawny guy who was probably going to need help doing everything that his Dad could do all by himself.
My Dad helped me in my participation in extra-curricular activities. When I was in the Drama club, he would use his expertise to help us build sets. He said he enjoyed being close to me and seeing me do something that I enjoyed. He just enjoyed putting things together.
During our production of "Arsenic and Old Lace," a couple of the girls in the production were watching my Dad work on the sets and one of them said, "Fayd's father is really good looking!" The other said, "You're right, he is."
When I heard about this, I was like, "Really? The girls like my Dad, but don't see me that way?" That's terrible! It made me wish my Dad wasn't so good at doing things, so he wouldn't have to be around taking all the attention away from me.
I know that's not how it really is, but it certainly made me feel like I was never going to reach his standard of manhood. Knowing that I was never going to be considered as good-looking as my father always bothered me when I was growing up. It also made me afraid to have any future girlfriends meet him. They might like him better than me, and while they wouldn't try anything with them, it would make them realize what they did not have with me and go looking for it somewhere else.
However, I found out with my final girlfriend (the one who would become Ms. Ogolon) that I could make him appear less attractive by telling about how Loyd and I would frequently receive harsh discipline from him. In the end, it didn't matter. None of my girlfriends ever said anything about finding him attractive. I guess they all had way too much class to tell me something like that. (And trust me, many of my girlfriends did not have much in the way of class.)
At any rate, I'm glad I was able to become my own person instead of trying to fit in his shoes. That's the way everyone needs to be in regards to their parents.
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
Girlfriend #1 Roz, The Final Part (Finally!)
I completed my tale of my first girlfriend ever yesterday. However, I still have a lot of thoughts on my mind about what took place and a few theories on what may have happened. I will likely do this for all of my girlfriends. (Don't worry, I didn't have that many.) I continue to have a lot of conflicting feelings. This will become very apparent.
To start off, I was very disappointed that I only got to have one girlfriend in all of high school. As I mentioned earlier, I was aware that it would always be a struggle trying to get any girl to want me for her boyfriend. The great thing about Roz is that she had no clue about my twerpy reputation until after she broke up with me. All the other girls I had spent years going to school with knew my pattern of behavior.
I definitely would have benefitted from more experience with girls. I really needed a lot more of those two-week relationships to help me realize when I should get out of something with a lot of red flags. As it was, because of Roz, when I finally got Girlfriend #2, I was determined to make it last more than two weeks when I should have ended it after a few days. (Girlfriend #2 will not be until after I graduate from college, but don't worry, I had plenty of ups and downs with girls I dated and had crushes on up to that point that will keep you entertained.)
But looking on the bright side, it's actually a good thing that I didn't hook up with any more girls in Artesia. Because I know where Roz is now, I don't have to worry about going home to see my parents with my wife and child and wind up running into any ex-girlfriends there. I don't know how I would handle seeing someone I used to make out with while my family is forced to witness a reunion.
So what really happened to end my relationship with Roz? Having more than 30 years to review everything, I almost believe that she didn't want to deprive me of my innocence. She knew how things were going to go, but she might have felt that I wasn't ready for our relationship to turn sexual, which I wasn't. She had to be harsh with me. She had to get me to despise her. The only problem was that I had so much love to give and I wanted her to receive that. She probably didn't realize that it was going to be so hard to get rid of me. Was she really that mad at me, to the point that it would be a full year before we could kind of be civil to each other? I know I had to tick her off pretty bad with my stalker behavior.
Way back in the beginning of this blog, I wondered how things would have turned out in my life if I had taken certain paths. I'm going to take a few paragraphs to examine if my relationship with Roz would have continued.
For starters, we probably would have wound up having sex. Given Roz' reputation, she would have been able to eventually coax me into making love with her. This would have led to any of the following situations:
1. I would have gotten her pregnant. As I mentioned before, her father was very religious and he would have forced us to get married. I probably would have had to quit school and work at the refinery so I could provide for my family. Seeing as how she somehow got divorced from her first husband after having a baby, that likely would have happened to me as well. While my life would have been ruined for the most part, my mother would have been thrilled at the opportunity to be a young grandmother.
2. I would have become so distraught with losing her after having intimate contact that I would have become suicidal. This comes after knowing how bad I felt after she broke up with me without having sex. Since I didn't want to find someone else after we actually broke up, I doubt I would have gone looking for someone to have sex with me.
3. I would have become some sort of sexual deviant. Once we had sex, we would have continued to have sex, probably going on long drives to have sex in my car on Saturday nights. We probably would have snuck away during Drama class to have sex in the men's room. After a while, she would have gotten tired of having sex with me and would have broken up so that she could go have sex with someone else. I then would expect sex from any girl I dated. I would have gone out in the middle of the night to find girls who might have sex with me, even if it mean driving up to Roswell. I also might have resorted to rape without realizing I was doing anything wrong. This would have been a pattern that would have continued for the rest of my life until I got arrested for it.
4. I would have had an unbalanced view of sexuality and intimacy. In fact, I still sort of have that problem right now. I just would have had it a lot earlier in my life and it would have caused problems when I was in college and still rather immature.
I have come to this conclusion in retrospect: At the time, Roz breaking up with me was the worst thing that ever happened to me up to that point in my life. However, after a few years of reflection, I found that it was actually for the best as the four (really three) scenarios offered above would have made my current life a whole lot worse than it is now. I would have been an even bigger loser.
While this concludes my series of articles about my first girlfriend, all references to her will not completely vanish from this blog. She will be making two more appearances in future posts, so you have something to look forward to.
With the next post, I will get back to my life as scheduled. However, I may be taking a few days off from the blog to get my thoughts together about the next few chapters of my life.
I hope you'll still be there.
To start off, I was very disappointed that I only got to have one girlfriend in all of high school. As I mentioned earlier, I was aware that it would always be a struggle trying to get any girl to want me for her boyfriend. The great thing about Roz is that she had no clue about my twerpy reputation until after she broke up with me. All the other girls I had spent years going to school with knew my pattern of behavior.
I definitely would have benefitted from more experience with girls. I really needed a lot more of those two-week relationships to help me realize when I should get out of something with a lot of red flags. As it was, because of Roz, when I finally got Girlfriend #2, I was determined to make it last more than two weeks when I should have ended it after a few days. (Girlfriend #2 will not be until after I graduate from college, but don't worry, I had plenty of ups and downs with girls I dated and had crushes on up to that point that will keep you entertained.)
But looking on the bright side, it's actually a good thing that I didn't hook up with any more girls in Artesia. Because I know where Roz is now, I don't have to worry about going home to see my parents with my wife and child and wind up running into any ex-girlfriends there. I don't know how I would handle seeing someone I used to make out with while my family is forced to witness a reunion.
So what really happened to end my relationship with Roz? Having more than 30 years to review everything, I almost believe that she didn't want to deprive me of my innocence. She knew how things were going to go, but she might have felt that I wasn't ready for our relationship to turn sexual, which I wasn't. She had to be harsh with me. She had to get me to despise her. The only problem was that I had so much love to give and I wanted her to receive that. She probably didn't realize that it was going to be so hard to get rid of me. Was she really that mad at me, to the point that it would be a full year before we could kind of be civil to each other? I know I had to tick her off pretty bad with my stalker behavior.
Way back in the beginning of this blog, I wondered how things would have turned out in my life if I had taken certain paths. I'm going to take a few paragraphs to examine if my relationship with Roz would have continued.
For starters, we probably would have wound up having sex. Given Roz' reputation, she would have been able to eventually coax me into making love with her. This would have led to any of the following situations:
1. I would have gotten her pregnant. As I mentioned before, her father was very religious and he would have forced us to get married. I probably would have had to quit school and work at the refinery so I could provide for my family. Seeing as how she somehow got divorced from her first husband after having a baby, that likely would have happened to me as well. While my life would have been ruined for the most part, my mother would have been thrilled at the opportunity to be a young grandmother.
2. I would have become so distraught with losing her after having intimate contact that I would have become suicidal. This comes after knowing how bad I felt after she broke up with me without having sex. Since I didn't want to find someone else after we actually broke up, I doubt I would have gone looking for someone to have sex with me.
3. I would have become some sort of sexual deviant. Once we had sex, we would have continued to have sex, probably going on long drives to have sex in my car on Saturday nights. We probably would have snuck away during Drama class to have sex in the men's room. After a while, she would have gotten tired of having sex with me and would have broken up so that she could go have sex with someone else. I then would expect sex from any girl I dated. I would have gone out in the middle of the night to find girls who might have sex with me, even if it mean driving up to Roswell. I also might have resorted to rape without realizing I was doing anything wrong. This would have been a pattern that would have continued for the rest of my life until I got arrested for it.
4. I would have had an unbalanced view of sexuality and intimacy. In fact, I still sort of have that problem right now. I just would have had it a lot earlier in my life and it would have caused problems when I was in college and still rather immature.
I have come to this conclusion in retrospect: At the time, Roz breaking up with me was the worst thing that ever happened to me up to that point in my life. However, after a few years of reflection, I found that it was actually for the best as the four (really three) scenarios offered above would have made my current life a whole lot worse than it is now. I would have been an even bigger loser.
While this concludes my series of articles about my first girlfriend, all references to her will not completely vanish from this blog. She will be making two more appearances in future posts, so you have something to look forward to.
With the next post, I will get back to my life as scheduled. However, I may be taking a few days off from the blog to get my thoughts together about the next few chapters of my life.
I hope you'll still be there.
Monday, March 10, 2014
Girlfriend #1: Roz, Part 7
I continued to have encounters with Roz after we broke up. As I mentioned in Friday's post, she wasn't in Drama class after Christmas break. I hardly ever saw her during that semester. That probably helped on my road to romantic recovery.
The one time I remember seeing her during that semester, she came up to me in the hall. She handed me her senior autograph book. She wanted me to write something in it. I didn't know what to think. During my next class, I couldn't help but try to figure out what it meant. She was smiling when she handed me the book. Was this an opportunity for us to get back together? Inside the book, she had pressed the Homecoming mum I had bought from her to give to her. If she hated me so much, why did she keep this souvenir?
I took the book with me to Dairy Queen. All during lunch, I agonized over what it was I was going to write. I thought that if I wrote the right thing, she might consider going out with me again. I know I wrote something to the effect that she was my first girlfriend and I didn't know what I was doing. I did not write that I hoped we would get back together. I found her later and handed her the book. I did not speak to her again for the rest of the semester.
In a separate incident, my brother Loyd decided to take part in this March of Dimes relay. Participants were split up into teams and each team member had to run a mile along the route. The rest of the team would ride on the bus while each member ran. Loyd said that Roz was on his team and was on the bus, but they didn't talk to each other. Loyd said Roz was not able to finish her mile and had to get back on the bus. He wasn't able to finish his mile, either.
At the end of the school year, the student newspaper printed the names and pictures of all the graduating seniors. Her name and photo were not among them. I thought this was odd, but I found out later that she didn't graduate. She didn't make good enough grades. Because I had been elected to the student council for my junior year, I was one of the ushers at graduation. I did not see her there.
At the beginning of the next school year, the administration decided to have the high school students do college-style registration. The seniors, juniors and sophomores would show up at a certain time on a certain day, figure out their schedules and line up for the teachers and classes they wanted. Since I was going to be in student council, I was called upon to volunteer for the registration. As such, I got to pre-register for my classes without having to go through the whole mess that everyone else was doing.
The seniors came first. After about a half hour, we had just about everyone show up. There were a few folders left over for those who did not arrive for the orientation. I noticed one of the folders had the name "Roz" on it, but had a different last name. After a little bit, I started getting curious to see if it was the same Roz. I looked inside and saw a note to Roz that said since she only took the first semester of Drama last year, she could take it again this year, making it count as a solid English credit and that would help her graduate. IT WAS THE SAME ROZ!
This meant she had gotten married within the last three months. I knew there had to be an interesting story there, but I never learned it. Roz never showed up for school.
A couple of months later, I was at a convenience store getting gas. While I was waiting in line to pay for the gas, I saw Roz in line behind me. I don't know if she saw me, but I just kept quiet. She had grown her hair long and appeared to be pregnant. I went out to pump gas. There was some guy on the other side of the pump waiting by his car. I saw Roz go up to him and tell him she had paid for the gas. I had never seen this guy before. He was Hispanic, wore glasses and had a thin mustache. I would never see him again.
I mentioned the skank in the previous post who was the messenger in the breakup between Roz and me. That skank was in choir my junior year. She once came up and asked me why I never talked to her. I didn't really reply. She asked me if it had to do with what happened with Roz. I confirmed that had something to do with it. Later in the year, Roz came to the choir class and sat with the skank. When she talked to her, it appeared that she was really upset. I didn't say anything to her at the time.
That was the last time I saw her in person. I did have a couple of encounters with her father. My senior year, I was selected as the Lions Club Senior of the Month for March of 1982. Judging from the other people who were selected, it looked like the Lions Club got first crack at the seniors that year. (My Dad was in Rotary. He was on the committee to select their Senior of the Month, but he said when they got the list of seniors, I had already been selected.) I wondered why I made what appeared to be the first choice list. When I went to the meeting, I saw that Roz' father was a member. He may have been the one behind choosing me.
In 1984, I was starting my junior year of college. I was walking down the stairs of my dorm and I saw a familiar face walking up. "Fayd?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you remember me?"
"Mr. C?"
"That's right."
Apparently, Roz' little brother was attending Eastern. I had only met him one time when I was dating Roz and I never saw him around campus.
Fast forward from 1984 to 2006. Around this time, I was trolling around classmates.com and I noticed she had put up a profile of having graduated from Artesia High School in 1980. From what I could tell, she married some other person and had at least four kids with him. She had posted some photos of herself. She really hadn't aged that well, but she was still thin. She also posted photos of her family. Her husband looked like a regular guy. I wondered if he was aware of her promiscuous past. At the time, they were living in Arlington, TX.
After that, I couldn't find her on the Internet until last week. I located her on Facebook. I found that she had married some other person, was living in Guthrie, OK and had grandchildren. Again, the photos were not flattering. It looked like her mother had passed away a few years ago, but her father was still alive. I also noticed that she was Facebook friends with the skank.
I have no desire to get in contact with her.
For tomorrow, I'm going to offer a kind of analysis of my relationship with Roz to serve as a wrap-up of Girlfriend #1. It could make for interesting writing. I don't know how well it will read.
The one time I remember seeing her during that semester, she came up to me in the hall. She handed me her senior autograph book. She wanted me to write something in it. I didn't know what to think. During my next class, I couldn't help but try to figure out what it meant. She was smiling when she handed me the book. Was this an opportunity for us to get back together? Inside the book, she had pressed the Homecoming mum I had bought from her to give to her. If she hated me so much, why did she keep this souvenir?
I took the book with me to Dairy Queen. All during lunch, I agonized over what it was I was going to write. I thought that if I wrote the right thing, she might consider going out with me again. I know I wrote something to the effect that she was my first girlfriend and I didn't know what I was doing. I did not write that I hoped we would get back together. I found her later and handed her the book. I did not speak to her again for the rest of the semester.
In a separate incident, my brother Loyd decided to take part in this March of Dimes relay. Participants were split up into teams and each team member had to run a mile along the route. The rest of the team would ride on the bus while each member ran. Loyd said that Roz was on his team and was on the bus, but they didn't talk to each other. Loyd said Roz was not able to finish her mile and had to get back on the bus. He wasn't able to finish his mile, either.
At the end of the school year, the student newspaper printed the names and pictures of all the graduating seniors. Her name and photo were not among them. I thought this was odd, but I found out later that she didn't graduate. She didn't make good enough grades. Because I had been elected to the student council for my junior year, I was one of the ushers at graduation. I did not see her there.
At the beginning of the next school year, the administration decided to have the high school students do college-style registration. The seniors, juniors and sophomores would show up at a certain time on a certain day, figure out their schedules and line up for the teachers and classes they wanted. Since I was going to be in student council, I was called upon to volunteer for the registration. As such, I got to pre-register for my classes without having to go through the whole mess that everyone else was doing.
The seniors came first. After about a half hour, we had just about everyone show up. There were a few folders left over for those who did not arrive for the orientation. I noticed one of the folders had the name "Roz" on it, but had a different last name. After a little bit, I started getting curious to see if it was the same Roz. I looked inside and saw a note to Roz that said since she only took the first semester of Drama last year, she could take it again this year, making it count as a solid English credit and that would help her graduate. IT WAS THE SAME ROZ!
This meant she had gotten married within the last three months. I knew there had to be an interesting story there, but I never learned it. Roz never showed up for school.
A couple of months later, I was at a convenience store getting gas. While I was waiting in line to pay for the gas, I saw Roz in line behind me. I don't know if she saw me, but I just kept quiet. She had grown her hair long and appeared to be pregnant. I went out to pump gas. There was some guy on the other side of the pump waiting by his car. I saw Roz go up to him and tell him she had paid for the gas. I had never seen this guy before. He was Hispanic, wore glasses and had a thin mustache. I would never see him again.
I mentioned the skank in the previous post who was the messenger in the breakup between Roz and me. That skank was in choir my junior year. She once came up and asked me why I never talked to her. I didn't really reply. She asked me if it had to do with what happened with Roz. I confirmed that had something to do with it. Later in the year, Roz came to the choir class and sat with the skank. When she talked to her, it appeared that she was really upset. I didn't say anything to her at the time.
That was the last time I saw her in person. I did have a couple of encounters with her father. My senior year, I was selected as the Lions Club Senior of the Month for March of 1982. Judging from the other people who were selected, it looked like the Lions Club got first crack at the seniors that year. (My Dad was in Rotary. He was on the committee to select their Senior of the Month, but he said when they got the list of seniors, I had already been selected.) I wondered why I made what appeared to be the first choice list. When I went to the meeting, I saw that Roz' father was a member. He may have been the one behind choosing me.
In 1984, I was starting my junior year of college. I was walking down the stairs of my dorm and I saw a familiar face walking up. "Fayd?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you remember me?"
"Mr. C?"
"That's right."
Apparently, Roz' little brother was attending Eastern. I had only met him one time when I was dating Roz and I never saw him around campus.
Fast forward from 1984 to 2006. Around this time, I was trolling around classmates.com and I noticed she had put up a profile of having graduated from Artesia High School in 1980. From what I could tell, she married some other person and had at least four kids with him. She had posted some photos of herself. She really hadn't aged that well, but she was still thin. She also posted photos of her family. Her husband looked like a regular guy. I wondered if he was aware of her promiscuous past. At the time, they were living in Arlington, TX.
After that, I couldn't find her on the Internet until last week. I located her on Facebook. I found that she had married some other person, was living in Guthrie, OK and had grandchildren. Again, the photos were not flattering. It looked like her mother had passed away a few years ago, but her father was still alive. I also noticed that she was Facebook friends with the skank.
I have no desire to get in contact with her.
For tomorrow, I'm going to offer a kind of analysis of my relationship with Roz to serve as a wrap-up of Girlfriend #1. It could make for interesting writing. I don't know how well it will read.
Friday, March 7, 2014
Girlfriend #1: Roz, Part 6
The first couple of days back at school after the Homecoming dance were rather normal. Roz and I would hang out at lunch and hold hands. I would drive her to Drama class and then drive her home. We didn't sneak around to any hidden areas to make out during school hours. We also didn't get a chance to hang out together after I drove her home from school. I guess I didn't know that I was supposed to do that.
After a few days, Roz sort of stopped holding hands with me. I knew something was wrong, but I had hoped that Roz would just tell me what was on her mind. (I didn't think to just come out and ask.) We spent one lunch hanging out with this one girl (who was known for being somewhat trashy). She and Roz spend the whole lunch talking and laughing. I was just standing there thinking, "Let's stop hanging around with this skank and go hold hands!" (Note to self: You were not aware of the term "skank" in 1979.)
The next day at lunch, I went looking for Roz. I ran into the skank. She said Roz had a message for me. She handed me the bracelet I had given Roz that had my name engraved on it. The skank said she was sorry.
I didn't know what to think. I was angry! I was mad that there was something wrong and Roz didn't tell me about it. I didn't want my Mom to be right that this relationship was doomed to only last two weeks! I wanted it to last forever.
After choir, I went looking for Roz to drive her to Drama class. I found her. She was walking and talking with the guy she had asked to dance at Homecoming. I went up to her and said, "Roz! You're coming with me!" "No, I'm not! I'm getting another ride to class!" That ride happened to be my best friend at the time, Rad.
While we were waiting outside the auditorium waiting for the teacher to arrive, Roz engaged in a conversation with Rad's girlfriend right in front of me. She ooed about getting to talk to that guy from Homecoming. Rad's girlfriend said, "Roz, Fayd's right here!" Roz said, "No, it's okay. We're no longer together." Once Drama class started, I wasn't able to talk to Roz. After class, she got into Rad's car and they drove off.
I was very heartbroken. It was so nice to think that someone cared about me and wanted to spend time with me and hold hands and kiss. The worst part about it was that she couldn't tell me to my face that she was breaking up with me. Second hand information that I had gotten was that she didn't like that I didn't talk very much. WHAT DID THAT MEAN? Was I supposed to talk during every second of our time together, especially when we were making out? For crying out loud, I possibly have Asperger's Syndrome. (Although I didn't know it at the time.) I'm not the type of person to spend a lot of time talking when it isn't absolutely necessary.
Because we had quickly broken up, I believed that we could quickly get back together. For the next couple of weeks, I did something that was very symptomatic of being a loser: I became a stalker. I would walk after her following Drama class, trying to get her to talk to me. I tried telling her how much I missed her and how I wanted us to get back together. She refused to engage in conversation. She just acted mad all the time. This went on daily for a couple of weeks. After that, I would drive by her house when I knew she was home. I would make my car peel out so that it made loud noises outside her house. I would call her house in the middle of the night. Once I pretended to be the guy she danced with at Homecoming. As soon as she got to the phone, I hung up.
The thing is that I had no idea that any of this was wrong. I actually thought this was what you had to do to get someone to come back to you. I was just plain stupid.
Looking back, I find it interesting that my thoughts were focused on getting her to come back to me. At no point did I want to just try to hook up with someone else to get back at her. I knew that it would always be a struggle for me to get a girl to like me enough to be my girlfriend. I just wanted to be with someone I knew for certain had some desire for me.
Eventually, I figured it was a lost cause and stopped following Roz home. Roz did not come back to the Drama class for the second semester, so I didn't have to deal with drama in that class anymore. However, I continued to have scattered incidents of contact with her afterwards.
I will get to those in Monday's post. Believe me, when I started this particular section of my life, I never expected it to go on for eight posts.
After a few days, Roz sort of stopped holding hands with me. I knew something was wrong, but I had hoped that Roz would just tell me what was on her mind. (I didn't think to just come out and ask.) We spent one lunch hanging out with this one girl (who was known for being somewhat trashy). She and Roz spend the whole lunch talking and laughing. I was just standing there thinking, "Let's stop hanging around with this skank and go hold hands!" (Note to self: You were not aware of the term "skank" in 1979.)
The next day at lunch, I went looking for Roz. I ran into the skank. She said Roz had a message for me. She handed me the bracelet I had given Roz that had my name engraved on it. The skank said she was sorry.
I didn't know what to think. I was angry! I was mad that there was something wrong and Roz didn't tell me about it. I didn't want my Mom to be right that this relationship was doomed to only last two weeks! I wanted it to last forever.
After choir, I went looking for Roz to drive her to Drama class. I found her. She was walking and talking with the guy she had asked to dance at Homecoming. I went up to her and said, "Roz! You're coming with me!" "No, I'm not! I'm getting another ride to class!" That ride happened to be my best friend at the time, Rad.
While we were waiting outside the auditorium waiting for the teacher to arrive, Roz engaged in a conversation with Rad's girlfriend right in front of me. She ooed about getting to talk to that guy from Homecoming. Rad's girlfriend said, "Roz, Fayd's right here!" Roz said, "No, it's okay. We're no longer together." Once Drama class started, I wasn't able to talk to Roz. After class, she got into Rad's car and they drove off.
I was very heartbroken. It was so nice to think that someone cared about me and wanted to spend time with me and hold hands and kiss. The worst part about it was that she couldn't tell me to my face that she was breaking up with me. Second hand information that I had gotten was that she didn't like that I didn't talk very much. WHAT DID THAT MEAN? Was I supposed to talk during every second of our time together, especially when we were making out? For crying out loud, I possibly have Asperger's Syndrome. (Although I didn't know it at the time.) I'm not the type of person to spend a lot of time talking when it isn't absolutely necessary.
Because we had quickly broken up, I believed that we could quickly get back together. For the next couple of weeks, I did something that was very symptomatic of being a loser: I became a stalker. I would walk after her following Drama class, trying to get her to talk to me. I tried telling her how much I missed her and how I wanted us to get back together. She refused to engage in conversation. She just acted mad all the time. This went on daily for a couple of weeks. After that, I would drive by her house when I knew she was home. I would make my car peel out so that it made loud noises outside her house. I would call her house in the middle of the night. Once I pretended to be the guy she danced with at Homecoming. As soon as she got to the phone, I hung up.
The thing is that I had no idea that any of this was wrong. I actually thought this was what you had to do to get someone to come back to you. I was just plain stupid.
Looking back, I find it interesting that my thoughts were focused on getting her to come back to me. At no point did I want to just try to hook up with someone else to get back at her. I knew that it would always be a struggle for me to get a girl to like me enough to be my girlfriend. I just wanted to be with someone I knew for certain had some desire for me.
Eventually, I figured it was a lost cause and stopped following Roz home. Roz did not come back to the Drama class for the second semester, so I didn't have to deal with drama in that class anymore. However, I continued to have scattered incidents of contact with her afterwards.
I will get to those in Monday's post. Believe me, when I started this particular section of my life, I never expected it to go on for eight posts.
Thursday, March 6, 2014
Girlfriend #1: Roz, Part 5
The day of my first official date was mostly spent hanging around the house, waiting for 6:00pm to arrive so that I could go out and pick up my girlfriend Roz. The only thing I remember doing during the day was watching the Elvis Presley movie "Clambake." I only remember that detail because Roz mentioned that her mother was a big Elvis fan.
The plan was for me to go pick Roz up at 6:00pm and we were going to go to a local steakhouse to have dinner. Mom and Dad had given me money to pay for both of us to eat out. I came by her house. Her parents were not home at the time. We got in the car and started driving. Roz then asked if we could go get pizza instead. She didn't have to ask me twice!
We ate our pizza and arrived at the dance. We were among the first people there. The DJ started playing the music and we started dancing. Roz turned out to be a very good dancer. Some of the guys I knew in the sophomore class would ask her to dance with them. She obliged them. I didn't feel any jealousy over this. Everybody seemed to like her.
At one point, she had asked this one guy if he wanted to dance. I knew the guy because he was in choir (and was the only person in school in both choir and band that year). All the girls thought he was really good-looking. However, he was kind of known as the type of guy who would love 'em and leave 'em. Again, I was not jealous. I just asked his girlfriend to dance with me.
Looking back, I realize that my inexperience with girls kind of made me a better boyfriend. Despite the rumors that I had heard about Roz "getting around," the thought never once entered my mind that she would just up and leave me for someone else (which, by the way, she didn't do). I was very trusting and had no reason to suspect anything was brewing with the guys she was dancing with. Now that I've been through the wringer a few times, I always find myself second guessing incidents similar to what I describe above. I wish I didn't do that, because most of the time, it's unwarranted. But I did lose some of my innocence with Roz, if not my virginity.
There was something that went on during the dance that I was debating whether to reveal in this blog. As noted before, I want to stay away from anything really sexual that took place during my life. This blog is not going to be about all the sex I had (or didn't have, in this case). However, I also need to make note of things that didn't seem funny at the time, but do now, so here we are.
All during the Homecoming dance, I had an erection. THE WHOLE FOUR HOURS! I'm not bragging, but I was never quite sure if it was noticable. The style at the time was tight pants, and while my pants weren't really that tight, I don't think they concealed what was going on inside. This proved to be a challenge when I went to the bathroom. That's how I discovered you can't really pee through an erection.
I don't remember anybody snickering or saying things behind my back. And no one said anything on Monday morning when I went back to school. It was kind of dark during the whole dance, so maybe nobody took the time to check out my crotch.
After the dance, we went out to my car and made out for about a half hour. I then drove her home. Afterwards, I drove over to the friends of my parents with whom I was to spend the night. As I previously mentioned, they were afraid I was going to bring her to the house and something bad was going to happen, likely in my bedroom, or even worse, their bed. (I was sleeping on a twin bed at the time.)
I woke up the next morning. The people I was staying with were still asleep. I left the house and went outside. I immediately noticed that someone had egged my car. The first thing I did when I got home was get the garden hose and rinse it off. I was mad about that because it was really cold that morning and I was getting wet. But I didn't want those eggs to stink up my car later on.
I don't remember what I did the rest of the day on Sunday. My parents and Loyd came back from the wedding. I didn't try to call Roz. I knew I would see her at school the next day. However, I didn't realize that I had hit my peak with Roz the night before and that everything would come crashing to an end later that week.
That's the subject of tomorrow's post.
The plan was for me to go pick Roz up at 6:00pm and we were going to go to a local steakhouse to have dinner. Mom and Dad had given me money to pay for both of us to eat out. I came by her house. Her parents were not home at the time. We got in the car and started driving. Roz then asked if we could go get pizza instead. She didn't have to ask me twice!
We ate our pizza and arrived at the dance. We were among the first people there. The DJ started playing the music and we started dancing. Roz turned out to be a very good dancer. Some of the guys I knew in the sophomore class would ask her to dance with them. She obliged them. I didn't feel any jealousy over this. Everybody seemed to like her.
At one point, she had asked this one guy if he wanted to dance. I knew the guy because he was in choir (and was the only person in school in both choir and band that year). All the girls thought he was really good-looking. However, he was kind of known as the type of guy who would love 'em and leave 'em. Again, I was not jealous. I just asked his girlfriend to dance with me.
Looking back, I realize that my inexperience with girls kind of made me a better boyfriend. Despite the rumors that I had heard about Roz "getting around," the thought never once entered my mind that she would just up and leave me for someone else (which, by the way, she didn't do). I was very trusting and had no reason to suspect anything was brewing with the guys she was dancing with. Now that I've been through the wringer a few times, I always find myself second guessing incidents similar to what I describe above. I wish I didn't do that, because most of the time, it's unwarranted. But I did lose some of my innocence with Roz, if not my virginity.
There was something that went on during the dance that I was debating whether to reveal in this blog. As noted before, I want to stay away from anything really sexual that took place during my life. This blog is not going to be about all the sex I had (or didn't have, in this case). However, I also need to make note of things that didn't seem funny at the time, but do now, so here we are.
All during the Homecoming dance, I had an erection. THE WHOLE FOUR HOURS! I'm not bragging, but I was never quite sure if it was noticable. The style at the time was tight pants, and while my pants weren't really that tight, I don't think they concealed what was going on inside. This proved to be a challenge when I went to the bathroom. That's how I discovered you can't really pee through an erection.
I don't remember anybody snickering or saying things behind my back. And no one said anything on Monday morning when I went back to school. It was kind of dark during the whole dance, so maybe nobody took the time to check out my crotch.
After the dance, we went out to my car and made out for about a half hour. I then drove her home. Afterwards, I drove over to the friends of my parents with whom I was to spend the night. As I previously mentioned, they were afraid I was going to bring her to the house and something bad was going to happen, likely in my bedroom, or even worse, their bed. (I was sleeping on a twin bed at the time.)
I woke up the next morning. The people I was staying with were still asleep. I left the house and went outside. I immediately noticed that someone had egged my car. The first thing I did when I got home was get the garden hose and rinse it off. I was mad about that because it was really cold that morning and I was getting wet. But I didn't want those eggs to stink up my car later on.
I don't remember what I did the rest of the day on Sunday. My parents and Loyd came back from the wedding. I didn't try to call Roz. I knew I would see her at school the next day. However, I didn't realize that I had hit my peak with Roz the night before and that everything would come crashing to an end later that week.
That's the subject of tomorrow's post.
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
Girlfriend #1: Roz, Part 4
Homecoming week was a crazy time for me to have my first date. There was so much activity going on, between performances of "Arsenic and Old Lace," working on the float, to gearing up for the pep rally, the parade and the game, to culminate in the homecoming dance.
One tradition was the Homecoming bonfire. It took place on Wednesday night. Roz and I went out to where it was being held, which was next to the baseball field, which is across from Park Junior High School. We watched it burn. After it was over, we went to my car and made out for a little while. Then I drove her home.
My thoughts about Roz were very innocent and naive. Since she didn't talk about her past relationships, I wasn't certain if she had ever done anything outside of kissing anyone. However, I soon found out how wrong I was.
During my PE class, someone had previously asked me if I was taking anyone to the Homecoming dance. I thought, "Oh, I get to brag a bit here." I told them I was going with a senior. Everyone was impressed at first. However, a few days later, one of them said, "Hey, I heard your girlfriend likes to f***!" This came as a shock to me. Was she going to expect me to do that?
I knew I was not ready for sex. I was not ready for any of it. I was not ready to see a naked girl, I was not ready to touch her breasts, I was not ready for her to see me without my clothes. I honestly had no clue what to do.
As I had mentioned before, my parents and brother had plans that weekend to go to Santa Fe to attend the wedding of my Mom's youngest cousin. Yes, they were going to leave me in the house by myself for the entire weekend.
Now, I have reason to believe that Mom had heard about Roz' reputation and decided to take action to keep something from happening at the house. While I would be permitted to spend Friday night in the house by myself, I would have to spend Saturday night, the night of the Homecoming dance, at their friends' house. (These were the same friends who had given Loyd and me the radio and Bible Stories Christmas presents years ago.) I guess my parents didn't think I was going to be spending any time with Roz on Friday night. They were wrong.
After all the craziness of Homecoming Day, with people getting out of class to work on floats, with the assembly to crown the Homecoming Queen, I drove Roz home. Roz said that she had never, ever seen a Homecoming parade. I guess she was hinting to me that she wanted me to take her to the parade. However, my father had arranged for me to get my hair cut that afternoon.
I drove over to the stylist. (At this point, I had this hippie guy doing my hair.) I went to the shop and it was closed. I waited for a bit, and figured the guy wasn't going to show up. I then got into my car and was going to get Roz to see the parade. However, right before I could back out, the parade started down the street I was on before getting on its route on Main Street. I could not back out. I saw the float the Drama club had been working on go by with several members riding on it. I remember Orld and Rod being on the float, which looked very spectacular. I wished I could have gotten out of the car and on the float, but I didn't have any good way back from the end of the parade route to my car without having to walk. (And it was only a mile and a half. I was lazy back then.)
From tne 9th to 12th grades, I was in the Law Enforcement Explorer troop. One of the things we did was provide a security presence at the home football games. This meant I had to go to all the games. I didn't realize it at first, but Roz was also at all the games. She was in charge of keeping the team mascot, a real bulldog, on a leash on the sidelines. This meant that we were both at the Homecoming game.
After the game, Roz and I went out to get a soda and then I drove her home. We did not go to my house, even though it was a perfect opportunity because my family was a four-hour drive away. I did not kiss her good night. I didn't know I was supposed to do that. I felt that kissing was for those special occasions when we were holding each other, not for quick pecks to tell each other goodbye.
I went home and watched TV. I stayed up to watch "The Midnight Special." The next thing I remember, I woke up in my parents' bed. I did not recall getting up, turning off the TV and walking to my parents' bedroom. I would have slept in my own bed. I think what happened is that they had asked neighbors to check in on me. They probably came by, saw the living room light on and me asleep on the couch. Somehow, they came into the house, got me off the couch and into my parents' bed. To this day, I do not know who it was. I have an idea that it was the people who lived a couple of houses down, but I never asked about it.
Coming up tomorrow: My first official date, even though all this other stuff we did would have normally counted as dates.
One tradition was the Homecoming bonfire. It took place on Wednesday night. Roz and I went out to where it was being held, which was next to the baseball field, which is across from Park Junior High School. We watched it burn. After it was over, we went to my car and made out for a little while. Then I drove her home.
My thoughts about Roz were very innocent and naive. Since she didn't talk about her past relationships, I wasn't certain if she had ever done anything outside of kissing anyone. However, I soon found out how wrong I was.
During my PE class, someone had previously asked me if I was taking anyone to the Homecoming dance. I thought, "Oh, I get to brag a bit here." I told them I was going with a senior. Everyone was impressed at first. However, a few days later, one of them said, "Hey, I heard your girlfriend likes to f***!" This came as a shock to me. Was she going to expect me to do that?
I knew I was not ready for sex. I was not ready for any of it. I was not ready to see a naked girl, I was not ready to touch her breasts, I was not ready for her to see me without my clothes. I honestly had no clue what to do.
As I had mentioned before, my parents and brother had plans that weekend to go to Santa Fe to attend the wedding of my Mom's youngest cousin. Yes, they were going to leave me in the house by myself for the entire weekend.
Now, I have reason to believe that Mom had heard about Roz' reputation and decided to take action to keep something from happening at the house. While I would be permitted to spend Friday night in the house by myself, I would have to spend Saturday night, the night of the Homecoming dance, at their friends' house. (These were the same friends who had given Loyd and me the radio and Bible Stories Christmas presents years ago.) I guess my parents didn't think I was going to be spending any time with Roz on Friday night. They were wrong.
After all the craziness of Homecoming Day, with people getting out of class to work on floats, with the assembly to crown the Homecoming Queen, I drove Roz home. Roz said that she had never, ever seen a Homecoming parade. I guess she was hinting to me that she wanted me to take her to the parade. However, my father had arranged for me to get my hair cut that afternoon.
I drove over to the stylist. (At this point, I had this hippie guy doing my hair.) I went to the shop and it was closed. I waited for a bit, and figured the guy wasn't going to show up. I then got into my car and was going to get Roz to see the parade. However, right before I could back out, the parade started down the street I was on before getting on its route on Main Street. I could not back out. I saw the float the Drama club had been working on go by with several members riding on it. I remember Orld and Rod being on the float, which looked very spectacular. I wished I could have gotten out of the car and on the float, but I didn't have any good way back from the end of the parade route to my car without having to walk. (And it was only a mile and a half. I was lazy back then.)
From tne 9th to 12th grades, I was in the Law Enforcement Explorer troop. One of the things we did was provide a security presence at the home football games. This meant I had to go to all the games. I didn't realize it at first, but Roz was also at all the games. She was in charge of keeping the team mascot, a real bulldog, on a leash on the sidelines. This meant that we were both at the Homecoming game.
After the game, Roz and I went out to get a soda and then I drove her home. We did not go to my house, even though it was a perfect opportunity because my family was a four-hour drive away. I did not kiss her good night. I didn't know I was supposed to do that. I felt that kissing was for those special occasions when we were holding each other, not for quick pecks to tell each other goodbye.
I went home and watched TV. I stayed up to watch "The Midnight Special." The next thing I remember, I woke up in my parents' bed. I did not recall getting up, turning off the TV and walking to my parents' bedroom. I would have slept in my own bed. I think what happened is that they had asked neighbors to check in on me. They probably came by, saw the living room light on and me asleep on the couch. Somehow, they came into the house, got me off the couch and into my parents' bed. To this day, I do not know who it was. I have an idea that it was the people who lived a couple of houses down, but I never asked about it.
Coming up tomorrow: My first official date, even though all this other stuff we did would have normally counted as dates.
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
Girlfriend #1: Roz, Part 3
In yesterday's post, I had gotten to the hand-holding stage with Roz. It was the most exciting moment of my life up to that point. It was hard to pull myself away from holding her hand. I really didn't know how things were going to top that, but I would soon find out.
The day after the first performance of "Arsenic and Old Lace" was a school day. Roz and I went to Drama class. We had our arms around each other for the first part of the class. After we were sent off in our regular groups, the teacher yelled at me and Roz for our public display of affection. I jokingly flitted Roz off in reply. It was kind of clear we had crossed a line in class.
We would have the second and final performance that night. (This was the night that Orld would blow his line late in the 2nd Act.) There were also plans for a cast party afterward in the auditorium. I bought my stereo and other people brought their records. I danced with Roz a few times and we had a good time.
Close to midnight, Roz took me into the auditorium's side entryway. It was dark. We were there by ourselves and slow-dancing to "Please Don't Go" by KC and the Sunshine Band. At the end of the song, Roz said, "I've been waiting to do this for a long time." She kissed me on the lips and kept her mouth there. I was stunned and trapped in the moment. I didn't know what to do. (Do know that she did not use her tongue. I'm glad about that. I didn't even hear about French kissing until a few months later. I really would have freaked out if my first kiss had been French.)
It felt like the kiss lasted longer than a minute, but time felt like it came to a stop right then, so I don't know how long it lasted. We eventually stopped kissing and held each other. I was about to say something, but then we heard a couple of guys right outside cracking up. I don't know if they were watching the whole time, but they seemed to think it was funny. It really ruined the moment because I didn't want anyone to know. (These guys were friends of one of the senior girls and they didn't go to school. I didn't have to worry about the talk around school from them, but it was still upsetting.) I went onto the stage and announced the party was over and started packing up my stereo. I drove Roz home without saying anything. I went home and found it very hard to sleep that night.
The thing that was hard for me to handle was that this all happened before our first official date. This is the reason I felt like things were moving too quickly. I would find out later that this was the norm for Roz.
That will get covered in tomorrow's post.
The day after the first performance of "Arsenic and Old Lace" was a school day. Roz and I went to Drama class. We had our arms around each other for the first part of the class. After we were sent off in our regular groups, the teacher yelled at me and Roz for our public display of affection. I jokingly flitted Roz off in reply. It was kind of clear we had crossed a line in class.
We would have the second and final performance that night. (This was the night that Orld would blow his line late in the 2nd Act.) There were also plans for a cast party afterward in the auditorium. I bought my stereo and other people brought their records. I danced with Roz a few times and we had a good time.
Close to midnight, Roz took me into the auditorium's side entryway. It was dark. We were there by ourselves and slow-dancing to "Please Don't Go" by KC and the Sunshine Band. At the end of the song, Roz said, "I've been waiting to do this for a long time." She kissed me on the lips and kept her mouth there. I was stunned and trapped in the moment. I didn't know what to do. (Do know that she did not use her tongue. I'm glad about that. I didn't even hear about French kissing until a few months later. I really would have freaked out if my first kiss had been French.)
It felt like the kiss lasted longer than a minute, but time felt like it came to a stop right then, so I don't know how long it lasted. We eventually stopped kissing and held each other. I was about to say something, but then we heard a couple of guys right outside cracking up. I don't know if they were watching the whole time, but they seemed to think it was funny. It really ruined the moment because I didn't want anyone to know. (These guys were friends of one of the senior girls and they didn't go to school. I didn't have to worry about the talk around school from them, but it was still upsetting.) I went onto the stage and announced the party was over and started packing up my stereo. I drove Roz home without saying anything. I went home and found it very hard to sleep that night.
The thing that was hard for me to handle was that this all happened before our first official date. This is the reason I felt like things were moving too quickly. I would find out later that this was the norm for Roz.
That will get covered in tomorrow's post.
Monday, March 3, 2014
Girlfriend #1: Roz, Part 2
So, I had gotten past the hardest part of the date: Actually getting a girl to go out with me. I thought the rest of it would be fairly straight-forward, but I was wrong.
One thing I knew was to not trust anything I had seen on TV or the movies. All I knew was that I needed to take her to dinner, then to the dance. Who knew what was going to happen after that? Who knew what was going to happen before that? I didn't know, but some people were aware of the pattern that was about to transpire.
I had made an assumption that Roz was pretty smart. Roz appeared to be very articulate and because she was one of the senior girls who was selling Homecoming Mums, I thought she was one of the top students. I turned out to be wrong. I found out she was actually struggling to stay in school.
I also thought she was fairly conservative. Her father was one of the head honchos at Artesia Christian College. Her family was indeed very religious. I never saw that as a bad thing. Except that I eventually found out she often acted out against those standards, to the point of promiscuity and running away from home. I didn't know about that until later in the relationship.
There was about two weeks that passed between me asking Roz to the Homecoming Dance and the actual event. We started spending more time together. I would drive her to Drama class. I would drive her home after Drama class or after rehearsal. Once she and Rad came into the house with me. We came in through the back door. My father was leaving out the front door. He just barely missed meeting her. Loyd was there and got to meet her. That would be the first time that Rad would meet Loyd. We left pretty soon after that.
At some point, Dad asked me if I had a date to the Homecoming Dance. I told him I did. Dad said it was bad timing because my Mom's cousin was getting married that same weekend. I really didn't want to miss out on my first date.
After hearing about my first date, Mom warned me that I had to be prepared because most high school romances didn't last longer than a couple of weeks. I knew this wasn't true because of Byd and his girlfriend. They had been together several months. I was hoping for longevity like that. I had no interest in trying to go out with as many girls as possible. I knew I was going to be lucky just to get one to like me.
With us hanging around each other more and more, I was worried about how fast things were moving. In all reality, they were moving very slowly, but for me, I didn't want to things to spin out of control. On the day that we were going to do the first performance of "Arsenic and Old Lace," I walked out to my car, thinking about how things were between me and Roz. All of a sudden, I noticed someone had written something on my windshield. It said, "Fayd, I love you!" It appeared to be written in glue or some other substance. It was hard to scrape off.
Roz came to the car and saw it. She said she didn't do it, but was going to be mad at whoever did. We drove to Drama Class. Other people saw the car and asked Roz if she wrote it. She kept saying she didn't do it, but she was going to get whoever did.
After class, I cleaned the stuff off my windshield. Roz said she thought it was wax. I then went home to get ready for the performance. While Roz was not in the play, she was on the crew and was one of the prompters who would help in case someone forgot their line. I showed up to put on my make up. After I was finished, I went out to my car. Roz was there. She admitted that she was the one who wrote on my windshield. She showed me the wax she used. She said that she really felt that way about me. So many thoughts were going through my mind. Was she in love with me? Did she just love me as a friend? Why did she lie to me? Is this good or is this bad. I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything. She thought I was mad at her and locked herself in my car and rolled up the window.
I had to keep telling her that I was not mad at her, but it was hard because I had to keep shouting through the window. She finally got out of the car and we talked. She accepted that I was not mad. We hugged and then we started holding hands, with interlocking fingers. I know my hand started sweating right away.
I was only on for a couple of scenes during the play. Between my scenes, I went and sat beside Roz and held her hand. I couldn't believe that our relationship had gotten to this point.
It would get a little further the next night. I'll cover that tomorrow.
One thing I knew was to not trust anything I had seen on TV or the movies. All I knew was that I needed to take her to dinner, then to the dance. Who knew what was going to happen after that? Who knew what was going to happen before that? I didn't know, but some people were aware of the pattern that was about to transpire.
I had made an assumption that Roz was pretty smart. Roz appeared to be very articulate and because she was one of the senior girls who was selling Homecoming Mums, I thought she was one of the top students. I turned out to be wrong. I found out she was actually struggling to stay in school.
I also thought she was fairly conservative. Her father was one of the head honchos at Artesia Christian College. Her family was indeed very religious. I never saw that as a bad thing. Except that I eventually found out she often acted out against those standards, to the point of promiscuity and running away from home. I didn't know about that until later in the relationship.
There was about two weeks that passed between me asking Roz to the Homecoming Dance and the actual event. We started spending more time together. I would drive her to Drama class. I would drive her home after Drama class or after rehearsal. Once she and Rad came into the house with me. We came in through the back door. My father was leaving out the front door. He just barely missed meeting her. Loyd was there and got to meet her. That would be the first time that Rad would meet Loyd. We left pretty soon after that.
At some point, Dad asked me if I had a date to the Homecoming Dance. I told him I did. Dad said it was bad timing because my Mom's cousin was getting married that same weekend. I really didn't want to miss out on my first date.
After hearing about my first date, Mom warned me that I had to be prepared because most high school romances didn't last longer than a couple of weeks. I knew this wasn't true because of Byd and his girlfriend. They had been together several months. I was hoping for longevity like that. I had no interest in trying to go out with as many girls as possible. I knew I was going to be lucky just to get one to like me.
With us hanging around each other more and more, I was worried about how fast things were moving. In all reality, they were moving very slowly, but for me, I didn't want to things to spin out of control. On the day that we were going to do the first performance of "Arsenic and Old Lace," I walked out to my car, thinking about how things were between me and Roz. All of a sudden, I noticed someone had written something on my windshield. It said, "Fayd, I love you!" It appeared to be written in glue or some other substance. It was hard to scrape off.
Roz came to the car and saw it. She said she didn't do it, but was going to be mad at whoever did. We drove to Drama Class. Other people saw the car and asked Roz if she wrote it. She kept saying she didn't do it, but she was going to get whoever did.
After class, I cleaned the stuff off my windshield. Roz said she thought it was wax. I then went home to get ready for the performance. While Roz was not in the play, she was on the crew and was one of the prompters who would help in case someone forgot their line. I showed up to put on my make up. After I was finished, I went out to my car. Roz was there. She admitted that she was the one who wrote on my windshield. She showed me the wax she used. She said that she really felt that way about me. So many thoughts were going through my mind. Was she in love with me? Did she just love me as a friend? Why did she lie to me? Is this good or is this bad. I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything. She thought I was mad at her and locked herself in my car and rolled up the window.
I had to keep telling her that I was not mad at her, but it was hard because I had to keep shouting through the window. She finally got out of the car and we talked. She accepted that I was not mad. We hugged and then we started holding hands, with interlocking fingers. I know my hand started sweating right away.
I was only on for a couple of scenes during the play. Between my scenes, I went and sat beside Roz and held her hand. I couldn't believe that our relationship had gotten to this point.
It would get a little further the next night. I'll cover that tomorrow.
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