Cruelty has its way of bringing you down, even when you think there is no way you could be reduced any further. My intimate friend. I know your tricks well.
Back in junior high there was this girl. Well, given my gelatinous physique, my eyes dreamed of every girl. But there was this one. Jennifer. A common name. The kind of name you give a kid if you want them to have a very normal life, absent of ridicule. The opposite of a name like Guillermo.
Jennifer was a blond hair girl. I had her in almost every one of my classes, except P.E. I remember her like she was a super model. The epitome of beauty. In reality she was probably a gangly little girl with a puffy face who liked Fruit Roll Ups and Saturday morning cartoons. But in memory she was perfect.
This is where my friend Cruelty comes in to stab me yet again and smear my decimated heart all over the piss covered floor. What I didn’t mention is that Jimmy, another normal named kid, also shared every class with me. Yes, he was in my P.E. class, which makes these memories that much worse. Looking back on it, the scenario is quite asinine and merits no tragic feelings or wishes for a quick death. But at the time, knowing that she called him her “boyfriend” was worse than being burnt alive every day. I’ve been burnt alive, remember? Seeing your crush obsess over another is much worse than the flesh eating inferno.
I had to watch them both flirt, pass notes, make plans and generally be happy through every class except P.E. In that class, Jimmy was busy picking on the two fattest, slowest, least popular kids he could find. One of which was always me. The other guy was some fatty whose name escapes me. He would drop my pants, push me over, yell out stupid things when it was my turn to bat at a ball I could never hit. All the while I get to imagine this knuckle headed jerk kissing the girl I would do anything for. In retrospect, I don’t think I would have known what to do with her if she was my girlfriend, but you never think of that at the time.
Since my good friend Cruelty gets bored easily, Jennifer moved away after the first year of junior high. Jimmy stayed and continued to pester me. Since the adolescent mind can have no fill of torture, my mind immediately fixated on yet another girl. Renee was her name. She had shorter brown hair and was part of all the school politics. I don’t know what that means, per se. I guess it means she helps out at the pep rallies or something. I saw her go through many boyfriends over the incredible 7 year span of knowing her. In those years, I doubt she ever knew my name. I know she knew of me though. She often helped me up when kids knocked me down, or helped me pick up papers when they slapped them out of my hands. She was nice, but never asked my name. That kind of thing will stay with you forever.
The worst part about Renee was that I got to see her grow up. In junior high, she was thin and tiny with short hair and a cute face. By the time she graduated high school she looked like a porn star. I looked like the creature from the black lagoon. From day one. I know she noticed because her helping hands became less available as she grew up and realized what looks can do for you when you’re a pretty girl. Talk about turning to the dark side.
The saddest part about this summary of school yard crushes is that it is the culmination of my romantic life. I’ve never even had the guts to try to hire a hooker. I imagine they would just think it was some kind of entrapment and refuse to touch me. Hell, even if they didn’t think it was a trick, I bet they would refuse to touch me. I would.
I haven’t spent much time in real society since school, so my crushes have always been characters of fiction. Ariel, the little mermaid. I didn’t even think about the fact that she was half fish. Rogue from X-Men. That lasted until they made a movie and cast some kid in her place. The amazon from Diablo 2. Vasquez from Aliens. The list could go on forever. I never really thought much of real people after school. I just could not suspend disbelief. No matter how kind and sympathetic they could be, they would never be attracted to me. I am old enough now to know this is a guaranteed fact. It is literally impossible for any human to find me appealing. Saying this hurts much less than it did when my mom would say it to me back in school.
I can’t really even say I dream of knowing the touch of another. My life has been a non stop plague for so long that I doubt there is a single thing that could put a genuine smile on my face. Besides death, of course. One could say I have resigned to the fact, despite the trickle of fantasy from time to time. But ultimately, I think that even if I had the chance to experience something like love, or at least fake love for a night, that I would turn it down. Run from it, even. See, right now I know nothing. If I knew what I was missing, it might make life even worse. What are the odds of it happening again? See where I’m going with this? You may not truly understand, and you may disagree, but I bet you’d be right here with me if you could hide books in your fat rolls, or see the zits on your cheeks just by pointing your eyes to your nose.
Cruelty… Like I said, I know your tricks well.