The day I met Will, I was on the set of a movie. He worked on movie sets as a production assistant. I was 19 at the time, still living at home in Orange County, and sometimes my friends and I would go up to L.A. to work on movie sets as extras. Some of the extras who did this for a living would call themselves background artists. The production staff would call them feeding props. We were basically treated like scenery, but it was fun for us to be a part of the filming regardless.
When I first saw Will, I thought he was pretty cute. It was during a lunch break that he struck up a conversation with me. We chatted for a little while and I noticed that he had two different colored eyes. One appeared to be green and the other blue. I commented on them and he told me they were two different colors because they are actually two different eyes. Only one was the eye he was actually born with. Ummmmm..??? He went on to explain that when he was a kid, his brother had chased him around the house one day with an ice pick while they were playing. Will’s brother ran into him and the ice pick accidentally got shoved into Will’s eye. When taken to the emergency room he found out he’d lose that eye. There was a girl in the hospital that had just died and happened to be an eye donor. Will became the new owner of that eye, which moved around as if nothing was wrong, yet he would never be able to see out of it. It would just be for cosmetic purposes.
Will asked me to go out with him and some friends to a local pub that night and I agreed. It still amazes me that I was able to drink in so many bars back then without getting kicked out for being underage. We had a lot of fun that night drinking cheap pitchers of beer, talking, laughing and getting to know each other better. We started seeing each other fairly often after that. I was always the one making the effort to drive to him since I still lived with my mother and he only lived with roommates. The parking was always horrendous being that he lived in a college town. Being a gentleman wasn’t one of Will’s greatest attributes, which I first noticed on the long walks to and from my car that he never offered to accompany me on. He did have other qualities I admired though. Will was very driven and passionate about film. He was only a production assistant, but aspired to be a director of his own films. He even had a masters degree from film school. Sex with Will was pretty amazing which was probably his most redeeming quality.
Over the next couple of months, I wanted things to progress to a deeper level with Will. That didn’t really happen. In fact, the more he would be aloof and hard to get, the more I tried to show him that I was the perfect girl for him that he shouldn’t let get away. I would just take whatever time he would give to me, and made all of the effort with not much in return. On one occasion, I remember I was wearing my adorable, very high black platform shoes. While we were walking my platform shoe suddenly went one direction while my foot went the other and it caused me to trip and fall on my face. Not embarrassing at all in front of the guy you’d most like to impress. He asked if I was o.k. I said I was fine, trying to laugh it off, and continued walking. Then about a minute later, the same exact thing happened with the shoe and down I went….again. This time it was a little more painful and my foot was throbbing. I stood up, embarrassed, said I was fine and we walked into his apartment. I sat down to examine my foot which was getting progressively more painful by the second. I took off my shoes and compared my feet. The injured foot definitely looked swollen to me. I asked him if he thought the hurt foot looked bigger than the other one. He took a quick look at them and said he thought they looked the same. I continued to stare at the huge swollen foot, comparing it to the obviously smaller uninjured foot and asked if he was sure that it didn’t look any bigger. He said no. I contemplated telling him that maybe he couldn’t see the injury very well since he only had one working eye, but decided that would be in poor taste. I asked him to take me to the emergency room where I got examined and x-rayed, with the end result being that I had broken my foot.
They put me in a cast and we drove back to Will’s apartment. When we got inside he asked if I wanted to smoke some pot. This isn’t something I normally did, but between the pain in my foot and wishing I was anywhere other than with Will in this vulnerable state, I said sure, why not. We smoked quite a bit and I began to feel a little better about the situation at hand. Then he suggested going to see a movie. I agreed and we drove over to the theater. After we parked I started to grab my crutches from the backseat and he stopped me. You may find the next sentence unbelievable, but I promise it actually happened. “Why don’t you just leave the crutches in the car.” He said. “You can hop.“ It’s amazing how much further away everything seems when you have to hop on one foot to get there. When we were finally in the home stretch and walking/hopping down the hallway to our theater, he had the nerve to turn to me and say, “Hurry up, we’re going to miss the movie. It’s already started.” I just stared at him in disbelief for a moment before telling him through gritted teeth to go on ahead, I’d catch up to him in a minute.
After the movie was over, we went back to his place and ended up getting into a huge fight. I can’t remember exactly what it was about, I just remember at one point him saying, “You know, you are NOT my girlfriend!” This fact I was becoming more and more aware of, but the way he spit those words at me stung regardless. I would have loved to storm out, jump in my car and drive home right then. Unfortunately, since my driving foot was crippled, that couldn’t happen. I hadn’t exactly figured out how I was going to get home yet, and being that it was too late at night to call anyone at this point, I was stuck here for the night so we just went to bed. We slept as far away from each other as was possible on his crappy twin bed, which for me wasn’t far enough. In the early morning my best friend called. She asked if I needed to be picked up and I told her YES PLEASE! Within an hour I was in the car heading home with her. I didn’t talk to Will for quite some time after that, and I wish I could say we never spoke again. I have a tendency when time passes to forget the bad qualities in men, and remember mostly the good times.
After a month or so I called Will. We caught up on the latest in each others lives. I told him my cast had finally come off, and we decided to meet. We started dating again and during this round of our relationship we actually became “boyfriend and girlfriend.” Something else happened as well during this time period. I discovered that Will was a cocaine addict. How I had no clue about this the entire time I’d known him is beyond me. I suppose it was because I’d never known a cocaine addict, or anyone who’d even tried cocaine for that matter, so I had no idea what the symptoms were. Also because he had never done it in front of me. I only found out through a conversation with his roommates. Things made a lot more sense to me after I found this out. This was a common drug in his work place, so he didn’t see it as big deal. I did however see it as a big deal and he knew how much I wanted him to stop. One night to prove a point, I asked him to let me try it so I could see why it was so important to him. He thought I was kidding since I swore I’d never try a drug like that, but when he realized I wasn’t he let me. I proceeded to do way more than I should have not realizing how much cocaine people normally did and ended the night with Will laying next to me, telling me to just breathe and calm down, that my heart was beating WAY too fast. Luckily I was fine, but that night didn’t change his drug habits one bit. He remained a cocaine addict while I continued to ignore how much it bothered me. Then Will got the job which would change everything.
It was working on a film in Australia. He would be gone for 3 months. While he was gone he called often, and we made plans for me to come and visit. I’d always wanted to go to Australia and he said if I just bought the plane ticket everything else would be taken care of once I got there. So the ticket was bought, date to visit set, but something started to happen. Being away from Will I started to see things clearly for the first time. I started to notice what a completely rude and selfish prick he really was. He was having his paychecks sent to me because of a problem with his bank, and since I had his money he was also telling me to mail certain bills for him, as well as take care of a few other things. He was treating me like an unpaid assistant. Instead of being appreciative of all that I was doing for him, he one day yelled at me for not sending something out on time. I lost it. My patience had run out. I don’t think he’d ever seen this side of me. I’m not sure I had either. I told him where he could put his checks, I expressed how unappreciated I felt, and I said that I didn’t care if I lost all of the money I’d spent on my Australia plane ticket, but I wasn’t coming to visit him. It was over. I did end up losing the money on that ticket but gained back so much of my self respect that I didn’t care.
I saw Will once more after that. This time it was accidental. He came into the bar where I was cocktail waitressing at the time. He looked terrible and I wondered what I’d ever seen in him. He tried to talk to me and I blew him off. He cornered me at one point and wanted to know why I wouldn’t talk to him. He told me he had stopped doing cocaine and that he and his family called that time in his life the black period. He told me that he didn’t really remember most of what happened during that time, including apparently how he’d treated me. I told him that I owed him nothing, and that while he may not remember anything during “the black period”, I unfortunately remembered it all perfectly. I then turned and walked away from One Eyed Will for the last and final time.
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Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
My First Love
This was a big one for me. My first real love. I was 16 when I met Darren. My best friend at the time invited me to her work party which was being hosted at a local bar. She and I for some reason could usually get into most bars even though we were under 21. Halfway through the evening I stepped outside for some fresh air, and Darren was sitting outside on the steps. He started up a conversation, made a couple of jokes. I thought he was very cute and funny. He had amazing big blue eyes, the kind that make you melt. He asked me how old I was, and because I felt strange admitting I was under 21 and in a bar, I stretched the truth a bit. I told him I was 19. He was 23 at the time. That night, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see him again, so I didn’t see much harm in the lie.
I wasn’t too surprised when he called, and of course agreed to go out with him. I was, however, surprised when we continued going out and started to fall in love. To make matters worse, my birthday was fast approaching and I didn’t quite know how to tell him that instead of turning 20, I would actually be turning 17. I couldn’t seem to find the right time to bring it up so I just kept procrastinating. I thought there was no way he’d want to be with me if he knew the truth.
During this time of hiding my age came some close calls and some very awkward incidents. There was the time he took me to an 18 and over club since I was “19” and I could definitely get in there. I didn’t know how to get out of it so I got dressed and ready, we drove all the way there, and when we got to door of the club the bouncer carded us. I frantically searched my purse for my ID. I acted shocked when I just couldn’t seem to find it. I said I must have either left it at home or lost it, and told Darren how sorry I was. He seemed disappointed, but not suspicious. Phew, safe for now.
Then there was the time we were at the grocery store, and the checker happened to be a classmate at my high school. He kept bringing up things that had to do with people at school or other things that would give me away, while I desperately tried to change the subject and shot him looks of warning when Darren wasn’t looking. After these and other incidents Darren apparently got suspicious. One day while I ran inside to grab my coat, he pulled out my wallet and checked my license. He didn’t tell me yet that he knew the truth, and instead waited a while in hopes I’d come clean. Well I didn’t, and I’ll never forget the moment he told me he knew.
We were on the phone and he started saying things like, “I wasn’t going to bring this up,“ and “I was hoping you’d say it first,” and things of that nature. I thought, oh my God, he’s about to tell me he loves me for the first time. Wrong. “I know how old you are Parker, and I don’t care I just wish you would have told me” he said. I just remember being shocked that he still wanted to be with me after that.
From then on we had 2 amazing years together. We traveled, I practically lived at his place, he knew my family. There were a few bumps in the road of course. Darren was older and wanted me to be more settled down. I was 17 and a free spirit. We fought a bit here and there. Then came the moment no girl ever wants to experience. The moment you realize you’re not even 18 and you’re pregnant. The moment where I thought, oh my God, I’m doomed to repeat my mother’s mistakes and my life is now over. I wasn’t sure if Darren would run when he heard the news, but he didn’t. He was really there for me through all of it. He said he would support me no matter what I chose. After a major internal battle, I chose not to have the baby. My 9 years of Catholic school made me fear the decision to have an abortion, and I wrestled with the guilt. I wondered for years if I’d made the right choice. It connected Darren and I in a deeper way after going through that. I think part of us would always be a little sad about the child that we could have had together.
After graduating from high school, I knew I wanted to move to L.A and get out of suburbia. I had dreams and aspirations. I had yet to explore life. Darren and I as a couple didn’t really fit into that plan. I needed to be free. I broke up with him, and told him that I needed this time, yet I still loved him so much. It was very sad and emotional for us both. After about a month or so, I got a temp job in an office, just for one day. Because this is the way my luck works, it coincidentally happened to be where Darren was employed. He worked out on construction sites and not in the office, but he called to check in there a few times daily. Hearing his voice made me miss him, and after that day I started to call him again. I would call just to chat or see how he was doing. One of the times that I called him, the way he answered the phone sounded like he was expecting someone. Someone other than me. I asked him if he had been expecting a call, and he said no. He called me back later and said he’d lied. He was expecting someone when I’d called. He was seeing someone, and they were engaged. Cue the jaw dropping. What?!? He was ENGAGED?! Already?!? I was too stunned to say anything other than ,”um, I have to go.” I hung up the phone and started bawling. I ended up going to his house the next day with the excuse that he had a few things of mine, and proceeded to tell him how much I missed him and how heartbroken I was that he was engaged to someone other than me. I left and the following day he called me, and said he needed me to meet him, we had to talk.
I met him and he proceeded to tell me that he’d been talking to his best friend about the situation. That he wasn’t sure what to do because he still loved me. Apparently his friend had said, “dude, I think you should marry Parker. You always said she was your angel.” While he was telling me all of this I realized that as much as I loved him, I still didn’t know what I wanted, and I still wanted to move to L.A and experience life on my own. I realized I wasn’t ready for this and he was. I then made a decision to let him go. I told him this, and said that it sounded like his fiancé really loved and needed him and it wasn’t time for me to settle down yet. I told him I wanted him to be happy because I loved him. He nodded, and with a look of slight sadness, yet understanding, he kissed me. One last time. I told him it was probably best he didn’t share that bit of information with his fiancé. He agreed, then he turned and walked out of my life, and I was left to wonder what was in store for me next.
I wasn’t too surprised when he called, and of course agreed to go out with him. I was, however, surprised when we continued going out and started to fall in love. To make matters worse, my birthday was fast approaching and I didn’t quite know how to tell him that instead of turning 20, I would actually be turning 17. I couldn’t seem to find the right time to bring it up so I just kept procrastinating. I thought there was no way he’d want to be with me if he knew the truth.
During this time of hiding my age came some close calls and some very awkward incidents. There was the time he took me to an 18 and over club since I was “19” and I could definitely get in there. I didn’t know how to get out of it so I got dressed and ready, we drove all the way there, and when we got to door of the club the bouncer carded us. I frantically searched my purse for my ID. I acted shocked when I just couldn’t seem to find it. I said I must have either left it at home or lost it, and told Darren how sorry I was. He seemed disappointed, but not suspicious. Phew, safe for now.
Then there was the time we were at the grocery store, and the checker happened to be a classmate at my high school. He kept bringing up things that had to do with people at school or other things that would give me away, while I desperately tried to change the subject and shot him looks of warning when Darren wasn’t looking. After these and other incidents Darren apparently got suspicious. One day while I ran inside to grab my coat, he pulled out my wallet and checked my license. He didn’t tell me yet that he knew the truth, and instead waited a while in hopes I’d come clean. Well I didn’t, and I’ll never forget the moment he told me he knew.
We were on the phone and he started saying things like, “I wasn’t going to bring this up,“ and “I was hoping you’d say it first,” and things of that nature. I thought, oh my God, he’s about to tell me he loves me for the first time. Wrong. “I know how old you are Parker, and I don’t care I just wish you would have told me” he said. I just remember being shocked that he still wanted to be with me after that.
From then on we had 2 amazing years together. We traveled, I practically lived at his place, he knew my family. There were a few bumps in the road of course. Darren was older and wanted me to be more settled down. I was 17 and a free spirit. We fought a bit here and there. Then came the moment no girl ever wants to experience. The moment you realize you’re not even 18 and you’re pregnant. The moment where I thought, oh my God, I’m doomed to repeat my mother’s mistakes and my life is now over. I wasn’t sure if Darren would run when he heard the news, but he didn’t. He was really there for me through all of it. He said he would support me no matter what I chose. After a major internal battle, I chose not to have the baby. My 9 years of Catholic school made me fear the decision to have an abortion, and I wrestled with the guilt. I wondered for years if I’d made the right choice. It connected Darren and I in a deeper way after going through that. I think part of us would always be a little sad about the child that we could have had together.
After graduating from high school, I knew I wanted to move to L.A and get out of suburbia. I had dreams and aspirations. I had yet to explore life. Darren and I as a couple didn’t really fit into that plan. I needed to be free. I broke up with him, and told him that I needed this time, yet I still loved him so much. It was very sad and emotional for us both. After about a month or so, I got a temp job in an office, just for one day. Because this is the way my luck works, it coincidentally happened to be where Darren was employed. He worked out on construction sites and not in the office, but he called to check in there a few times daily. Hearing his voice made me miss him, and after that day I started to call him again. I would call just to chat or see how he was doing. One of the times that I called him, the way he answered the phone sounded like he was expecting someone. Someone other than me. I asked him if he had been expecting a call, and he said no. He called me back later and said he’d lied. He was expecting someone when I’d called. He was seeing someone, and they were engaged. Cue the jaw dropping. What?!? He was ENGAGED?! Already?!? I was too stunned to say anything other than ,”um, I have to go.” I hung up the phone and started bawling. I ended up going to his house the next day with the excuse that he had a few things of mine, and proceeded to tell him how much I missed him and how heartbroken I was that he was engaged to someone other than me. I left and the following day he called me, and said he needed me to meet him, we had to talk.
I met him and he proceeded to tell me that he’d been talking to his best friend about the situation. That he wasn’t sure what to do because he still loved me. Apparently his friend had said, “dude, I think you should marry Parker. You always said she was your angel.” While he was telling me all of this I realized that as much as I loved him, I still didn’t know what I wanted, and I still wanted to move to L.A and experience life on my own. I realized I wasn’t ready for this and he was. I then made a decision to let him go. I told him this, and said that it sounded like his fiancé really loved and needed him and it wasn’t time for me to settle down yet. I told him I wanted him to be happy because I loved him. He nodded, and with a look of slight sadness, yet understanding, he kissed me. One last time. I told him it was probably best he didn’t share that bit of information with his fiancé. He agreed, then he turned and walked out of my life, and I was left to wonder what was in store for me next.
Monday, February 8, 2010
The One That Got Away
I’m not sure I will ever know what K.C.’s real name was. He was nicknamed K.C. in high school after K.C. and the sunshine band, because he was the white guy that hung around all the black guys. K.C. was the manager of the movie theater I worked at, and the man I previously mentioned who saved me from J.R. at the prom. K.C. was also about 34 years old, and I had just turned 16 (I know, I know. I promise I get around to dating younger men eventually if you hang in there.)
So K.C. and I ended up “dating” for a little while. He was that cool, unavailable guy that you really want to fall for you but doesn’t and kind of strings you along. He had a reputation for liking younger girls. He didn’t even try to hide this fact. We were in the car together on one occasion and Oingo Boingo’s song “I love little girls” came on the radio. He said it was his theme song. Instead of seeing red flags waving or hearing WARNING,WARNING blaring in my head, I thought it was funny and giggled like the naïve little girl that I was.
I was always trying to impress him with how mature or how unique I was, in hopes to win him over completely and possibly have a real committed relationship. A relationship similar to the one that I had made up in my head and kept daydreaming about. I even lent him money once. $300 I will never see again. I figured it would just be a matter of time before he came around and saw that I was the one for him and we would live happily ever after. Unfortunately my visions of our future together came to a screeching halt on one seemingly normal day, when I showed up to work and a detective was waiting there to speak to me. He asked if he could have a few minutes of my time to talk to me about an urgent matter. I sat down with him at a nearby table, my stomach doing back flips all the while. He proceeded to try to scare and manipulate me into telling him that I was intimate with K.C. I wouldn’t. I lied and said we were just friends. He told me it didn’t matter what I said, that they were planning on arresting him that night regardless. He said they’d been investigating him for a long time, mainly for his relations with young girls and also because he apparently had a fetish for showing his penis in public. I pick all the winners. The detective said if I told K.C. about this visit I would get in big trouble, and tried some more to get me to admit that I, as a minor, had been with K.C. sexually. At this point, part of me wanted to protect K.C. from getting in trouble, and part of me just really didn’t like this detective. When he finally realized I wasn’t going to be of any help to his case against K.C., he left. I immediately called K.C. and told him to come meet me ASAP.
I filled him in on all that had been said during my meeting with the detective. He looked very sad, and was extremely thankful to me for telling him. I never saw him again after that. I did get a card from him in the mail once. The return address had the name Robert on it. New name, new life. He said in his card that he owed me so much and thanked me again. Looking back I should have probably turned him in.
So K.C. and I ended up “dating” for a little while. He was that cool, unavailable guy that you really want to fall for you but doesn’t and kind of strings you along. He had a reputation for liking younger girls. He didn’t even try to hide this fact. We were in the car together on one occasion and Oingo Boingo’s song “I love little girls” came on the radio. He said it was his theme song. Instead of seeing red flags waving or hearing WARNING,WARNING blaring in my head, I thought it was funny and giggled like the naïve little girl that I was.
I was always trying to impress him with how mature or how unique I was, in hopes to win him over completely and possibly have a real committed relationship. A relationship similar to the one that I had made up in my head and kept daydreaming about. I even lent him money once. $300 I will never see again. I figured it would just be a matter of time before he came around and saw that I was the one for him and we would live happily ever after. Unfortunately my visions of our future together came to a screeching halt on one seemingly normal day, when I showed up to work and a detective was waiting there to speak to me. He asked if he could have a few minutes of my time to talk to me about an urgent matter. I sat down with him at a nearby table, my stomach doing back flips all the while. He proceeded to try to scare and manipulate me into telling him that I was intimate with K.C. I wouldn’t. I lied and said we were just friends. He told me it didn’t matter what I said, that they were planning on arresting him that night regardless. He said they’d been investigating him for a long time, mainly for his relations with young girls and also because he apparently had a fetish for showing his penis in public. I pick all the winners. The detective said if I told K.C. about this visit I would get in big trouble, and tried some more to get me to admit that I, as a minor, had been with K.C. sexually. At this point, part of me wanted to protect K.C. from getting in trouble, and part of me just really didn’t like this detective. When he finally realized I wasn’t going to be of any help to his case against K.C., he left. I immediately called K.C. and told him to come meet me ASAP.
I filled him in on all that had been said during my meeting with the detective. He looked very sad, and was extremely thankful to me for telling him. I never saw him again after that. I did get a card from him in the mail once. The return address had the name Robert on it. New name, new life. He said in his card that he owed me so much and thanked me again. Looking back I should have probably turned him in.
Friday, February 5, 2010
The Producer
I never “dated” Richard, but I felt he was worth mentioning in the run down of men in my life. The first I’d ever heard of him was because of J.R. Richard was J.R’s mentor. J.R. had wanted to break into the entertainment industry, and this is the field Richard was in. Richard produced commercials in the Newport beach area. He’d never driven a car in his life. He had a huge fear of automobiles. He rode his bike everywhere and basically never left Newport Beach. J.R. used to be a driver for Richard, amongst other things. The friend that had introduced me to J.R. had also been friends with Richard. She stopped talking to both Richard and J.R. when J.R. had dumped her in order to date me. I was flattered, she was bitter. Can’t blame her, although I think in the long run I did her a huge favor by taking the psychotic off of her hands.
During the days J.R. was stalking me, I got calls from Richard to offer his support and insight into the crazy mind of J.R., as well as helpful advice on getting rid of him gracefully. I really appreciated the advice Richard gave, and we began to talk on a regular basis. We started to talk about more than just J.R., and discussed everything from friends and relationships to our past and future dreams. Since at this time I clearly had a thing for older men, of course I developed a crush on Richard. I still hadn’t met him in person and had no idea what he looked like. After some persuading he finally sent me a picture of himself. Well….maybe a picture of himself isn’t the best description for what he actually sent. It was a collage of pictures, and in the middle of that there was a photo of Richard. He wasn’t particularly handsome, but there was a distinguished sexiness to his look (or so it seemed from this picture.) I started trying to make a plan for us to see each other in person, but he’d always have some excuse or reason for why I couldn’t come to his house and meet him. When he’d sent me the collage of pictures, his return address was on the envelope, so I knew where he lived.
One day I decided to go to his house unexpectedly and surprise him. I drove over to his house, and was a bit nervous. I walked up to his door and knocked. There was no answer, but all the lights were on inside, so I wasn’t giving up just yet. I walked around to the side of the house and saw a tall man through the kitchen window with his back to me. There was a door there next to the window, so I knocked on that one. He turned around, with a surprised look, and asked who was out there. I said “It’s me, Parker….surprise!“
This did not go over very well. Not only was he pretty snippy about me showing up uninvited, but my crush also went away as soon as he opened the door and I saw him. Richard was at least 50 years old, and he was not at all attractive. He had a strange, sort of scrunched up looking ruddy face, with crazy curly hair sticking out everywhere. He was wearing big black rimmed glasses, and he looked like a scrawny old man. I realized that the picture he had sent to me only looked semi-attractive because it was taken at least 20 years prior. I also then knew why he hadn’t wanted me to meet him face to face. We didn’t talk anymore after that day.
During the days J.R. was stalking me, I got calls from Richard to offer his support and insight into the crazy mind of J.R., as well as helpful advice on getting rid of him gracefully. I really appreciated the advice Richard gave, and we began to talk on a regular basis. We started to talk about more than just J.R., and discussed everything from friends and relationships to our past and future dreams. Since at this time I clearly had a thing for older men, of course I developed a crush on Richard. I still hadn’t met him in person and had no idea what he looked like. After some persuading he finally sent me a picture of himself. Well….maybe a picture of himself isn’t the best description for what he actually sent. It was a collage of pictures, and in the middle of that there was a photo of Richard. He wasn’t particularly handsome, but there was a distinguished sexiness to his look (or so it seemed from this picture.) I started trying to make a plan for us to see each other in person, but he’d always have some excuse or reason for why I couldn’t come to his house and meet him. When he’d sent me the collage of pictures, his return address was on the envelope, so I knew where he lived.
One day I decided to go to his house unexpectedly and surprise him. I drove over to his house, and was a bit nervous. I walked up to his door and knocked. There was no answer, but all the lights were on inside, so I wasn’t giving up just yet. I walked around to the side of the house and saw a tall man through the kitchen window with his back to me. There was a door there next to the window, so I knocked on that one. He turned around, with a surprised look, and asked who was out there. I said “It’s me, Parker….surprise!“
This did not go over very well. Not only was he pretty snippy about me showing up uninvited, but my crush also went away as soon as he opened the door and I saw him. Richard was at least 50 years old, and he was not at all attractive. He had a strange, sort of scrunched up looking ruddy face, with crazy curly hair sticking out everywhere. He was wearing big black rimmed glasses, and he looked like a scrawny old man. I realized that the picture he had sent to me only looked semi-attractive because it was taken at least 20 years prior. I also then knew why he hadn’t wanted me to meet him face to face. We didn’t talk anymore after that day.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
The Paranoid Schizophrenic
J.R. is the name he went by, which was short for Eugene Junior. He was a 31 year old paranoid schizophrenic. 31 doesn’t sound too old I realize…unless you were 15 at the time of the encounter, like I was. At the time I thought I was so mature for my age and that’s why he was interested in me. Not because he was a crazy pervert who liked young girls. I’m not sure which is worse, the fact that I dated someone twice my age who was certifiably crazy, or the fact that I lost my virginity to someone named Eugene. J.R. didn’t have a job, yet he had his own apartment. I was never quite sure how he was able to pay the rent. Back then I had a fear of confrontation, and therefore rarely questioned anything. I had my own theory, which was that he must somehow get money from the government for being too crazy to work. Even though he had a fairly large apartment, for some reason he liked to sleep in the closet. Instead of questioning this decision, since that wasn’t something I did, I went ahead and just slept on the floor of the closet with him. As you can probably guess, this closet was also the super romantic spot where we had sex for the first time. Definitely a bit of a disappointment to say the least.
I originally met J.R. through a mutual friend. She is the only reason I knew he was a paranoid schizophrenic, since he would never have talked about it. She also warned me about the way he could be if he stopped taking his medication, and how important it was he remained on them at all times. I can still recall the first time I realized just how much of a nutcase he could be when he stopped taking his medication. Case and point, my prom. J.R. was my date. It wasn’t the prom thrown by my school. It was an alternative prom thrown by the parents of some rich kid who didn’t appreciate that the school had an age limit for your date. This is how I was able to take J.R. even though he was far older than any prom date should ever be. I knew the night was doomed when I walked into his apartment dressed and ready to go, and he came out of the bathroom disheveled, shirt unbuttoned, hair a mess. He looked at me and said “HEEEEY” in a really loud crazy voice, then ran into the bedroom and slammed the door. Oh Holy Fuck, I thought to myself. I probably should have left him at home, because the night just went downhill from there.
There were poker tables set up at the prom, which I normally would have thought was a fun addition, and did until the moment I saw J.R. crawling around under all the tables looking for poker chips. In another glance, there was J.R. sliding onto the empty dance floor and jumping all over, literally flailing about, while everyone stared in disbelief. I started to pretend I didn’t know who he was after a while. In fact, I adopted a new date. I worked at a movie theater and my manager K.C. was there. He saved my night. He helped me get J.R. home, and the way he handled the situation made me develop a big crush.
Well after that night I decided it was time to never speak to J.R. again and rid my life of him. This proved to be rather difficult. After I told him it was over he became a bit of a stalker. I put a block on his phone number, but he was sneaky and would call constantly from payphones. I think the creepiest part was all of the bizarre mail I got from him. Every day a letter of some sort would arrive, and when I say “letter” I use that term very loosely. When I opened some of the envelopes that were in the ever growing pile of J.R. mail, I saw either pages of nonsense writing that made no sense, with sentences that were highlighted for no apparent reason. Or most of the time it would just be random pictures or words cut out of a magazine that were thrown together in an envelope. Looking back, a restraining order probably would have been a good idea. Eventually J.R went away, but I can’t say I’ve ever forgotten him or his craziness.
I originally met J.R. through a mutual friend. She is the only reason I knew he was a paranoid schizophrenic, since he would never have talked about it. She also warned me about the way he could be if he stopped taking his medication, and how important it was he remained on them at all times. I can still recall the first time I realized just how much of a nutcase he could be when he stopped taking his medication. Case and point, my prom. J.R. was my date. It wasn’t the prom thrown by my school. It was an alternative prom thrown by the parents of some rich kid who didn’t appreciate that the school had an age limit for your date. This is how I was able to take J.R. even though he was far older than any prom date should ever be. I knew the night was doomed when I walked into his apartment dressed and ready to go, and he came out of the bathroom disheveled, shirt unbuttoned, hair a mess. He looked at me and said “HEEEEY” in a really loud crazy voice, then ran into the bedroom and slammed the door. Oh Holy Fuck, I thought to myself. I probably should have left him at home, because the night just went downhill from there.
There were poker tables set up at the prom, which I normally would have thought was a fun addition, and did until the moment I saw J.R. crawling around under all the tables looking for poker chips. In another glance, there was J.R. sliding onto the empty dance floor and jumping all over, literally flailing about, while everyone stared in disbelief. I started to pretend I didn’t know who he was after a while. In fact, I adopted a new date. I worked at a movie theater and my manager K.C. was there. He saved my night. He helped me get J.R. home, and the way he handled the situation made me develop a big crush.
Well after that night I decided it was time to never speak to J.R. again and rid my life of him. This proved to be rather difficult. After I told him it was over he became a bit of a stalker. I put a block on his phone number, but he was sneaky and would call constantly from payphones. I think the creepiest part was all of the bizarre mail I got from him. Every day a letter of some sort would arrive, and when I say “letter” I use that term very loosely. When I opened some of the envelopes that were in the ever growing pile of J.R. mail, I saw either pages of nonsense writing that made no sense, with sentences that were highlighted for no apparent reason. Or most of the time it would just be random pictures or words cut out of a magazine that were thrown together in an envelope. Looking back, a restraining order probably would have been a good idea. Eventually J.R went away, but I can’t say I’ve ever forgotten him or his craziness.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
How Did I Get Here?
It was a Sunday afternoon. I was in New York visiting my at-the-time boyfriend, a 23 year old waiter who lived on his aunt's couch and smoked pot more frequently then I breathe air. We were sitting on the couch, which would later become our bed, and he was telling a "funny" story about how he and his buddies used to egg each others houses, when a question began to form in my mind. It is a question that I have had time and time again throughout my dating life, in these moments when I'm faced with realities such as I'm dating a guy who lives on a couch and doesn't have a bank account. How in the hell did I get here?! I thought to myself, really, what am I doing here, on this couch, with this loser?
I'm a 30 year old woman. I'm a flight attendant who makes a decent living. I had just gotten back from Barbados because those are the kinds of places I like to visit and have access to with my job. I have a perfectly good bed waiting for me at home in California, where I live alone with my cat, no relatives, and if I ever sleep on my couch it's because I fell asleep watching a movie and not because I have no choice. So again, how did I get here?
I've decided that in order to figure out how I got here, I need to go back and revisit my past. Back to where it all began. To the first of the many boys I have loved, lost, hated, and dated. So join me on this journey and perhaps you will be able to help me answer the question of "How did I get here?" Maybe while reading through these chronicles of the many frogs I've kissed trying to find that prince that I'm not sure actually exists, you might see something I missed.
Just a little about me before we begin. My name is Parker. Before I was of dating age, I was surrounded by a different group of boys. I grew up with 7 brothers. You'd think growing up with all those boys would have helped me tremendously once I entered the world of dating, but as you'll soon see through my stories, it failed to be of assistance. I have 2 best friends who are my rocks. There is Gavin, who is the straightest gay man I've ever known. He is extremely wise and gives the best advice. Unfortunately I often fail to take it and end up with many "I told you so's." He is irritatingly always right, and I don't know where I'd be without him. Then there is Raven, who I have known since the 2nd grade and is my unofficial sister. She is always there to talk me down from the ledge after each heartbreak, and laugh at the ridiculous dating stories I always have to share. She skipped the dating scene altogether to marry her high school sweetheart and therefore lives vicariously through me. She has 2 beautiful daughters and is constantly complaining that because she is now a mother she never gets to do anything fun. Gavin and I have to remind her that she is usually complaining about this while having cocktails at one event or another with us, and that she does more fun things then most single people I know without kids. She doesn't seem to see it that way.
Now that I've shared a bit about my present, let's go back to where it all began.
The Boy Chronicles....
I'm a 30 year old woman. I'm a flight attendant who makes a decent living. I had just gotten back from Barbados because those are the kinds of places I like to visit and have access to with my job. I have a perfectly good bed waiting for me at home in California, where I live alone with my cat, no relatives, and if I ever sleep on my couch it's because I fell asleep watching a movie and not because I have no choice. So again, how did I get here?
I've decided that in order to figure out how I got here, I need to go back and revisit my past. Back to where it all began. To the first of the many boys I have loved, lost, hated, and dated. So join me on this journey and perhaps you will be able to help me answer the question of "How did I get here?" Maybe while reading through these chronicles of the many frogs I've kissed trying to find that prince that I'm not sure actually exists, you might see something I missed.
Just a little about me before we begin. My name is Parker. Before I was of dating age, I was surrounded by a different group of boys. I grew up with 7 brothers. You'd think growing up with all those boys would have helped me tremendously once I entered the world of dating, but as you'll soon see through my stories, it failed to be of assistance. I have 2 best friends who are my rocks. There is Gavin, who is the straightest gay man I've ever known. He is extremely wise and gives the best advice. Unfortunately I often fail to take it and end up with many "I told you so's." He is irritatingly always right, and I don't know where I'd be without him. Then there is Raven, who I have known since the 2nd grade and is my unofficial sister. She is always there to talk me down from the ledge after each heartbreak, and laugh at the ridiculous dating stories I always have to share. She skipped the dating scene altogether to marry her high school sweetheart and therefore lives vicariously through me. She has 2 beautiful daughters and is constantly complaining that because she is now a mother she never gets to do anything fun. Gavin and I have to remind her that she is usually complaining about this while having cocktails at one event or another with us, and that she does more fun things then most single people I know without kids. She doesn't seem to see it that way.
Now that I've shared a bit about my present, let's go back to where it all began.
The Boy Chronicles....
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