Monday, March 16, 2009
The Reason- Part One
Some stories are really hard to tell. Sometimes its because the story, how it started or ended, makes you ashamed of yourself and what you have done. Sometimes it’s because you want to let the past remain in the past. This is a story that definitely fits all of the above criteria. I am going to tell this, or attempt to, as coherently as possible. I am writing this in one sitting, beginning at 12:21, because I cannot sleep until I get this off my chest, and shared with you- because I owe this part of my life to you. I am going to break the blog entry up into multiple entries so as not to overwhelm you because I want the story read… I think.
Should I begin with the most recent end or the beginning? I think the beginning would be best.
It’s 1992 and I am in middle school. I knew I liked boys because I jerked off to some “boy friend” each night. I had long term crushes and usually was faithful to only one boy at a time. Sometimes it was the tallest, biggest boy in my grade, Gary, or the cutest, prettiest boy in my grade, Devon. It was never, ever Benjamin, or B.J. as everyone called him. B.J. had moved to our small town at the beginning to seventh grade and smelled like old people. He reaked of mothballs, wore lame-tired clothes, and always looked unkempt. His hair was knotty, his skin was an oily disaster, and no one, especially me, wanted to be his friend.
Somehow B.J. managed to weasel his way into every (and I mean every) aspect of my adolescent life.
B.J. attended my church and my mother took an interest in him immediately. She asked me to be his friend (I refused) and told me that he had moved to our town to live with his aunt because his father had just been awarded custody of him. Apparently he was coming from a very bad home life in Detroit. But being the Corey that I was, I felt no sympathy.
A year went on and he and my mother continued to bond and I continued to ignore him. I did this until it became almost impossible to ignore him. He started “liking” my best friend, Chanel. Chanel and I had been best friends since second grade. I loved her. I was the focus of her life and she mine. Suddenly, that all changed because of B.J. This troll had taken the two most important women in my life- my mother and now my best friend. I did not like this guy, not one bit.
Until the summer after eighth grade when I learned he was moving back to Detroit.
He spent the weekend at my house because his Aunt was going out of town. It was his last weekend in town and it was the best weekend of my life (well, it seemed that way.) We stayed up late talking about his life- about being abused and seeing drug deals and seeing people get shot in drive bys. We woke up early and walked to the lake (my family lives by a large lake that is not heavily visited most of the year). We swam and played basketball and wrestled.
When he left, I felt like my world was coming to an end. I had fallen hopelessly, madly in love with the troll who was not a troll any longer. He had learned how to cut his hair (later he would cut mine every weekend- sometimes because I needed it, but most times because it was an excuse for me to see him), had purchased new clothes and Noxzema (with my mother’s help), and had become more popular than me (he was the start guard of our middle school basketball team).
I realized that I would never jerk off to any other boy besides B.J.