There’s always going to be that one girl. The one who gets over looked. The one that is just above nothing on the high school level. I was that girl. I blended into the surroundings. I spent every waking moment practicing. Ok so maybe not EVERY moment, but if I was at school I was either in the bandroom or I was in class. There was no time to frivolities with anyone that wasn’t in band.
I’d make friends from other school districts and I’d snail mail (the only mail we had back then) back and forth with them. In fact my first boyfriend was found this very way. He was tall and had an accent, and loved Nirvana. I thought he just about hung the moon.
We would fantasize about our first date together in letters, and at one point I finally said I’d like to kiss him, and have him hold me close. Nothing more perverse than just that, and his mother found the letter. When I saw the address and the red ink pen he’d use to scrawl his address and mine on the envelope I was ecstatic, each letter was a link in our ‘love story’, and with each link it was as if Christmas had come.
What I found was a hastily written letter from a woman not ready to lose her only son to the rigors of the dating world. The whole thing was two handwritten (that was the way back then) pages that stated something to the effect of “what you are writing is perverted and you will not speak to my son again, much less write him. If I find out you have communicated with him in any way I will send a copy of the letter to the police.”
Now being 14 or so I thought I was doing something very very wrong by wanting to kiss him, or by writing it. So for a very long while I didn’t speak to any boys. I didn’t tell my parents, what would they think? I mean I was a perverse person and… I should be ashamed.
So I was.
I guess it was early in my 14th year because by the end of it I had a new crush, and I might have written about him before so I’ll gloss over that. He was a friends brother he was an OLDER man, and he held me down and tried to have his way with me. I got away. I stopped being such good friends with the his sister at this point.
I think I started to retreat even then. I went from being the outgoing type that I had always been. (I was the seventh grade band runner who would go to all the high school games with the senior boys/girls, I was the one that wanted to be a flautist when she was this age after all.)
I had a huge crush on my band director. He was late 30s early 40s and he looked a lot like Spock. That man hung the moon, if he said jump I’d do it. Hell if he had told me the Enterprise was real I’d have requested to see the holodeck.
Band was integral into who I am now, and I do not blame it. I welcome it. I enjoyed so immensely that I was able to produce music with a tube and well aimed air. I made All-state my senior year, I was to have a date to my senior prom, but my mother wouldn’t let me go to a neighboring town’s prom with the guy, because I might possibly have sex. (The guy was a sure fire bet I wasn’t getting laid.)
SO I put my foot down, I wasn’t going to senior prom, I had no reason to go to it. I wasn’t popular, I didn’t have a date, and I don’t like dresses.
There. I’ve said it. I don’t like dresses. In fact, I don’t even like getting dressed up. I’d rather wear t-shirts (yes they all are geeky) and jeans everyday, but unfortunately real life prevails. I wear ‘work attire’ I wear dresses when I have to, and I get dressed up sometimes. Hell I even know how to do makeup-but you’d never know that by how I leave the house.
It’s as if I don’t want to be anything, I want to be that invisible girl again. And you know what I guess that’s true. I do want to be forgotten. That way I can fade out of the spotlight without anyone caring.
That and I can’t seem to sleep when I need to, or stay awake when I need. It’s really tough some days to stay awake at work, and today is one of them. And I love my job.
So I will have to put on my big girl panties and make some friends or not. I will be the one making the decisions just like always before. And I might be perverse, because since that innocent letter that gave me such a fright in return, I have written some things that would make that lady’s head explode.
And I have survived. Just one of the perks of being a wallflower I guess. (Ps- I have not seen or read that last line as a movie or novel, I just felt it fit)
Ps- my tea does not have enough caffeine. Someone send chocolate 😛