Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Memories From the Past - 1978

I believe this memory sticks out most in my mind because it seemed to be one of the highlights in my deceased mother's life.

First, let me say this story involves my first love, Duncan....whom my mother disliked with every core of her being that her religious upbringing would allow her. For us everyday "sinners" that would be translated as hatred.

This particular boy was a neighbor who lived 2 houses down from me. I was the tender age of 12..almost 13, when I first noticed him noticing me. The song "Baby Come Back" by "Player" was playing on a nearby radio.

He was the ripe age of 14. I can still vividly remember him riding around on his bicycle in the street in front of my house watching me in the way a "dog in heat" will watch his potential mate. He was wearing a maroon windbreaker and ragged, navy blue cut-off shorts that came down to his knees...a trademark of what he would wear in our years together to come.

We had been neighborhood playmates for a couple of years, but this particular day was the "turning point" in our relationship.

Now that I am much older and have a daughter of my own, I can see why mother disliked him so and what torture it must have been for her to watch my soul be eaten alive by this boy. In just a few words, he was selfish, arrogant, verbally abusive, manipulative, and narcissistic. Unfortunately, I loved him. Yes, even at 13 I was in was inexperienced love, but it was still love, my very first experience at love.

Fast forward 3 years of being in an emotionally torturous relationship with this boy. I was in high school during my 5 year relationship with him. When I got home from school I was expected to give an account of every person I had talked to during the day....male or female. It didn't matter what I said, I would always be interrogated as though I was a murder suspect instead of a high school student that was suppose to be enjoying her teenage years.

Makeup was not allowed, having friends or going to the movies with friends was off limits too...that included my family. Something as simple as going to the grocery store with my mother was also off his eyes, that would mean that I was out looking at a cute stock boy that I may attract the attention of.

For 5 long years my days consisted of going to school and coming home to hang out with him until it was time to go inside for the night. I think by this time my family had found it was easier just to let me writhe in my torturers hands than fight the battle it would have took for them to keep me away from my "love".

Isolation was the key for him. I had no friends and my family had given up on me. I was under his control.

In the end, it really didn't matter what I did. There was always something that would offend him enough to have an excuse to verbally and emotionally torture me. It was his addiction and I was the drug.

Like it wasn't already bad enough...if I made any infraction, which was usually daily, I was expected to get down on my hands and knees with my hands put together in a prayer position and beg forgiveness before he would talk to me.....this is not an exaggeration or a joke. I usually would have to stay kneeled on the ground in a begging position for 30 minutes or longer as he decided if I was worth his time or effort for the day.

After he was tired of playing the submission game, he would finally talk to me where I would then have spend the next two or so hours trying to figure out what I did that was so wrong. He would just shake his head in amusement and laugh that evil laugh of his. He used to claim he was the anti-Christ....he may not have been the true anti-Christ, but he was certainly my own personal anti-Christ.

As I write and reflect it all seems like a nightmare. In a way it also seemed somehow it is what I was worth and all that I was worthy of...all I knew in a relationship with a boy. Pitiful of me isn't it?

I am a little ashamed to tell about this part of my life. Looking back on the whole relationship it was utterly ridiculous...and of course very sad and a waste of my teenage years. Maybe not, I am a very strong woman now....maybe I should thank him instead of hate him.

Stay tuned...the bad memories are flowing quicker than I thought and I still have the plot of my story to tell.


  1. I think you left out the best word to describe your childhood love... he was an ASSHOLE! If I even think about our couch that he hung over with his underarm on the hand rest, I can still smell his funk!

  2. Hey, you did have a friend, me! I'm in a hurry so I can't write more. Talk later!