Monday, January 17, 2011

My Teenage Chasing Years....That Sounds Wrong...

Do you guys watch Big Love? My Sundays are finally filled again, the season premier was totally good. I'm totally for Margene going her own way and being famous.

Anyway, I was thinking about some new stories and my friend brought up one of my first boyfriends, and it made me think it'd be a good post topic...

I usually say "I've been doing this for 6 years" which means since I was 18 (almost 7 years now, GOD I'm fucking old). But in reality, the first jersey I ever chased was when I was 16. I really, really hope he doesn't hate me for posting this story. Love ya, B.

In 2002, I was 16. My dad was still alive when I started working at this day camp for really fucking rich kids on the North Shore of Long Island. My sister hooked me up with the job because she had worked there when she was younger too. It's funny the shit that sticks in your head. I had just cut my hair short...like, barely to my shoulders short (tragic). And I remember exactly what I wore the day my sister took me to meet the camp director - bright red Abercrombie track pants (people my age will totally remember how fucking popular those things were), a navy blue tank top and my hair in a half up pony tail because it was too short to pull up all the way. God so weird that I remember that.

Anyway, within 4 days of working, I came home crying begging my mom to let me quit. I hate kids, and if you think I liked them any more when Iw as 16, you're on fucking crack dude. I was working in a group with 7 year old boys. But I was a junior counselor and the girl who was my senior counselor, Leslie, was awesome. Everyone thought we were sisters.

I came home threatening to quit for another week. Crying. It sucked a lot because I couldn't drive yet, so I had to take the bus that picked up all the campers so it usually took me like an hour to get home. I was always a huge grouchy bitch.

I remember within my second week, sitting in the indoor game room, and we had these guys called "SWAT"...they weren't counselors, they were like glorified janitors. They refilled the gatorade, dropped off the lunch buckets, monitored the cafeteria, that kind of shit. They drove around in a golf cart all day. Brian was part of SWAT and was chilling in the game room that day, too. He sitting in there, with a hat on, and lacrosse shorts, and I thought he was gorgeous. He had these huge green eyes and a mop of brown hair and he was such a stereotypical high school stud. We got to talking about lacrosse, and he was only a year older than me. He went to high school actually at the school where camp was held (again, this elite upper class private school).

Camp suddenly stopped sucking. I loved going. And it's one of those cheeseball moments you look back on and you're like "oh my God I wish dating was still like this". It was a lot of silly flirting and shitty bravado and everything. It was so stupidly innocent. Water gun fights and shit like that. I loved every minute of it.

Brian asked me to get food with him after camp on a Tuesday. July 23rd. I remember I wore my hair down all day at work so I didn't have a pony tail bump in it so I looked nice. We went to this little hotdog shack in Oyster Bay and joked around. When he drove me home, he pulled up to my driveway but couldn't pull in because there were so many cars. I didn't kiss him. It was one of those moments you have when you're young where the whole 15 minutes leading up to the point you know you have to get out of the car, you are having a mental panic attack about what to do. No. No kiss. An awkward punch on the shoulder and a "see ya later dude". And I walked up to my house, where my mom opened the door and told me my dad had passed away two hours previous.

When I came back to work the following week, I attended my first staff softball game. If you've ever worked at a camp I'm sure you know the deal. The older kids buy the booze, we steal the softball field for two hours and play like assholes. I got shitfaced off of 6 bud ices (do they even still make those?) and I remember holding Brian's hand as we walked back to his car (he didn't drink). I got in the front seat, and put my seatbelt on and kissed him.

We made out for a while in the backseat of his Beamer in the parking lot of a grocery store near my house. And when I walked into my house at 16 years old at 11:30, shitfaced, my mom actually didn't yell. She fed me left over chicken zingerella and made sure I drank plenty of water. I still puked.

Brian and I were inseparable after that. We spent all of our free time at camp together. It was so fucking lame but adorable. And at the end of the summer, his senior season of football started. He was captain. And that's how my jersey chasing really started. His football and lacrosse seasons, I was there for every game, I made brownies for his team, kept up with stats, wore his stupid lacrosse windbreaker to my own school where I got mocked all the fucking time for it...I loved it. And looking back, this is definitely where the jersey chaser in me was born. I went to every fucking lacrosse game he had that season, even when he was hurt and didn't play. Football? God, I remember he broke his leg midway through the season and I burned him CDs (old) and baked brownies and used to visit him at school on days my high school had off....he helped me learn to drive, and we almost got arrested once for fooling around in the backseat of his car and a cop found us. He made me love the athletes, seriously. I loved being part of that and dating a guy like that. He basically set up the whole of the last six years, ESPECIALLY with the laxer population. Every lacrosse player that got some sexual attention from me should be sending Brian a thank you note. Brian was the all American team captain America. Like, every mother would want their daughter to date a boy like Brian. My mom LOVED him.

We also both loved sports. We LOVED the Yankees and went to some games, but I remember for his 18th birthday I got him Rangers tickets....and long story short, he got in a fight with his mom about staying out so we could go ice skating at Rock Center after the game (seriously, these were the issues we had as teens, I miss being young) and then he got food poisoning on the way home and his mom thought he was doing drugs (she totally didn't like me). But yeah, we talked a lot about sports, so he helped cultivate that shit as well. Ahhh B, you'll never know the way you shaped my life.

I didn't lose my virginity to B, though I wish I had (I lost it to a dude in a band who was awful right before I met Brian). But I still remember the whole "so have you thought about us sleeping together" conversation, and him asking me to prom and all that shit. It was mildly adorable, seriously, I was so lame, I hope if I have children I have four girls just like me. Anyway, a year after my dad died, B's dad died too. It was rough for him. He was way closer with his dad than I was with mine, and he took it very hard. He left for college up in Boston that fall and we made it through the first semester, though with a lot of bumps along the way. We broke up December 19th, 2003. Some dates just stick with you, fuck off.

It took me four years to get over Brian. I was in other relationships since then, but it wasn't until I met my ex laxer that I really got over him. Ironically, in college, the girl who became my best friend freshman year, her best friend from high school was at the time dating Brian. And it sucked so bad having to be nice to her and like, smile through the "I hate you you're fucking the love of my life" thoughts. But she turned out to be super cool and actually we became buds (they broke up in college as well).

When I finally figured out that all my romantic feelings for B had gone, we finally got drinks and bullshitted one night. And I realized I had spent a lot of time being angry with him and shit, and lost a lot of potential to have him in my life, but that I was really happy he had existed in my life. We went through a lot together. First love, death, all that shit. And after all the shit I've been through in the last few years, I really do look back and wish dating was still that simple.

B is in a serious relationship now (I always joke that he's a serial monogamist, he's had like 12 girlfriends) and I'm very happy for him. We catch up every now and then and he's surprisingly been super supportive about the book. But yeah, I look back and have to admit, this is where it all started. Brian totally fucking set the cogs in motion for every other relationship I'd have after him. But he also gets the extreme privilege of being the first boy I ever loved, and like, being a part of that memory of my childhood and stuff. I'm so gay, I know. See, I talk a lot of shit but I'm really a sentimental fucking pisces at heart. B got both out of me - the jersey chasing sex maniac (we had sex in the back of cars like it was going out of style. There isn't a parking lot in my hometown that didn't get violated by us), but the sentimental love loser.

Here's a picture of us from his prom. Please don't ask why my head looks abnormally large in this picture, I think it's because the reflection from the actual photo onto my Blackberry. I swear I'm not a bobble head. And I still have that dress. It was GORGEOUS.


Oh god, looking at it now, I look deformed....yah, the actual picture doesn't look like this. I look like something out of the HIlls Have Eyes here, jesus...

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