A little mindless entertainment.

Today's drunken self serving whiny pathetic rant.

The pathetic self serving part:

So, I'm sitting up drinking and thinking about one of the first girls I fell absolutely head over heals in love with.

Of course, she didn't even know my name, but that isn't important.

I was thirteen years old (just in high school), at that really really awkward stage where you don't know anything about the world, and I made the mistake of falling for this girl who was totally out of my league (as in drinking bottled water when most of the rest of us were happy when the electricity was on for a full month).

Even way back then I had the sense to keep my mouth shut (even around my "friends"), but apparently I was too overt with my longing glances and what not (at least, overt enough for someone to guess my desires).

Anyway, one fine Wednesday I find a note in my locker, in a beautiful female hand, saying something along the lines of... "I am really really turned on by you, and I know you feel the same about me. My folks are out of town this weekend, why don't you come over..." (Which, believe it or not, is totally plausible to a horny stupid thirteen year old).

Now, this girl lived only about a mile or so from my place, and I knew (being a total loser, even then) that it was a new moon that weekend, and that I would be able to sneak out of my parents place without too much difficulty.

So, I spend my whole week thinking about how I'm going to sneak out Friday night, get some trim, maybe form a lasting relationship with the girl of my dreams... and counting the minutes till her folks are supposedly going to be out of town.

Finally the big night arrives. I go to "bed" early, tidy myself up, and effect my escape.

Now I should explain that I grew up in a very rural area. When I say that this girl lived only a mile or so from my home, I mean that she lived a mile or so away as the crow flies, cutting cross country, and only hitting the county road about 100 yards from her driveway. (This, it turns out, is important).

I make my trip without incident, cutting cross country, braving rattlesnakes and cougars, passing the other three houses that lay between my home and the spot where the game trail daylights onto the county road without incident.

(Now for the entertaining part)


Anyway, I can see the lights shining off her back porch, and in the windows all along the west side of her house, and I'm slowly making my way toward her front door, when (almost out of nowhere) four or five guys rush me out of the darkness and proceed (bam bam bam bam bam) to beat the living shit out of me with fists and sticks and such.

I eventually escape (though I'm still kind of fuzzy as to how) into the new moon darkness, and drag my sorry bloody beaten ass back over the better part of a mile of dark terrain to my home, where I quietly take a shower and sneak off to bed (somewhat wiser than I was before)

The various little bits of follow-up information:

The following monday, the girl who didn't know my name said hello to me in a hallway, batted her eyes, and asked me how I was doing. (It was the only time that she ever called me by name)

I have never able to figure out if she was in on it or not.

I have proven incapable (in the ninteen years since this experience) of forming any sort of lasting, long term relationships.

I sometimes wonder where she is today.


How's that for pathetic and weak.