House of Sin

Tuesday, April 18, 2006

Oh, True Love (You fickle bitch)

Saturday night was spent in celebration of that Most Holy Day. The day in which we thank God for the Birth of Someone Important.

That person would be moi, of course. 'Twas my day of birth this weekend (That's right, I'm Aries. You gotta problem wit dat?) and I witnessed that most holy of rituals: A Brief Foray into Binge Drinking. God, do I love the Captain Morgan.

The night itself had it's ups and downs, but I smoked a cigar, danced like a fiend, met some pretty ladies, and had a good time. There's a story in there, of course, but that post is a day or two away. In order to understand they why's and how's of last weekend, I need to delve into my past. Back to my First True Love.

We all remember our First True Love. The way our heart first skipped a beat when we saw him/her, the way we dreamed of a long-life, full of happiness and joy, the way we wanted to grab out, and not let go... Ah. My FTL had long blond hair, the prettiest of eyes, the best of brains, and a laugh that captured my heart from the moment I met her, way back when... in pre-school.

I was 5.

--

I moved twice within the first 8 years of my life. My family stayed in the same general area, but switched towns twice. The first move was when I was only 2 or 3. I don't recall why, but I'm fairly certain it had to do with the birth of my brother, M2. Not enough space in our small house, I thnk. The second move to AlmostRichMansLand was because the birth of my third brother, M3. Not enough space, agan.

(Only years of counseling will determine for sure, but I've long believed that the second move to ARML helped destroy the marriage of my parents, and consequently, my relationship with my immediate family.)

For 5 years, my family lived in bliss in a small little community in downstate NY. (Side-note: It's generally accepted by those individuals who live in Long Island or NYC believe everything north of The City is considered "upstate", while those of us who actually live above NYC, view everything south of the Rochester/Syracuse/Albany line as "downstate." I'm in the latter category.) I have fond memories of Christmas, and a nice backyard, and parents getting along, and that sort-of thing.

Life was good. As a matter of fact, it was quite simply the happiest time of my life.

When I hit pre-school, I fell in love. Little CD was a cutie, although I confess I don't remember too much about her. I remember where she lived, I remember flirting with her, and I remember spending 3 or 4 years trying to chase her around the playground, in a madcap race to kiss her.

I don't think I ever caught her. Looking back, I think I was afraid to. (Hmm. Funny how things haven't changed that much. I'll revisit that statement soon. Anyways.)

I can only imagine what my parents thought, when they first found out. Look at our little boy, trying to chase that darling little blonde-haired girl around the playground! How Sweet! How Cute! How Funny!...

Actually, I know that's what they thought about the situation. How do I know? Oh, just because everyone they knew seemed to find out. And I mean Fucking. Everyone. Family, friends, neighbors, EVERYONE. I've got 50-60 extended family members that I used to see on a regular basis, and it was pure hell. My parents (mom, especially) didn't quite understand the concept of discretion.

Okay, so I was six, but how is it noone notice how much it bugged me? I might've been "in love", but I remember being obviously uncomfortable around people when it was brought up. What, noone knows how to pay attenton to that kinda thing? Christ, I'm bitter.

Anyways.

Everyone thought it was hilarious, but when you're six, and getting picked on, because you met a cute girl, well, it's not so funny then. Like, it could possibly, maybe, scar you for a long time, maybe? Well, that's pretty much what happened.

Over the years since, I've had more missed opportunities with women, than I can or want to recall. Time and time again, I've had a "sure thing" (in one form or another) staring me in the face. On each of those occasions, I'd subconsciously flush, maybe remembering my mother telling her friends about my "little crush" at some dinner she hosted for her friends. I'm old enough to know better (and to know a "sure thing" when I see it) but that memory is tattoed on my soul, and I can't seem to make peace with this particular insecurity, and move on. I wish I could blame it on a general lack of confidence, but I tried to chase a girl around the playground in kindergarten, for fuck's sake. Does that SOUND like a lack of confidence?

(bitterbitterbitter)

I brought it up to my mother once, and she brushed it off. I mentioned the little girl's name, and she laughed at me. She thought it was funny, but in the years since, I don't think it ever occurred to her (or my father) that they never knew who I was dating, or when. Ever. Out of all the girls I've ever had a relationship with, they've met or heard about 3. And that's out of 15-20.

I don't which is worse: my self-confidence when it comes to women (and yes, some of you may find that hi-LAR-ious) or my lack of faith and trust when it comes to my parents. (Hi, Mom!)

I'll add that thought to the list of "Things To Talk About When I Can Afford Counseling".

--

In the years since I moved away from Little CD, I've always wondered what happened to her, and some of my other classmates from that era of my life. I've always dreamed of tracking them down, and writing a book about it, but I never found the hook for such a story. Besides me, who would care?

After we moved to AlmostRichMansLand, I lost touch with My First True Love, only seeing her once or twice years later. I heard from my mother, a few years ago, that her father passed away, but I didn't feel comfortable contacting her to pass on my regards.

I'm still kicking myself for that.

--

So, the secret origin of This Horny Bastard is now revealed. From the beginning, I chased the women, but because of that incident, I've lost the confidence to make the first move...

...which leads into the story of last weekend quite nicely.

(con't)

-- The Bastard
music: Just Be, Kirsty Hawkshaw, Nip/Tuck.

Posted by The Bastard :: 10:54 PM :: 1 comments