I don't know what got me started thinking about it, but I'm going to bore you with a tale of my reckless youth. It's going to be long, I warn you now. I'm going to ramble as well. If you don't feel up for the long haul, you may want to come back when you're a bit stronger. I call this:
My First Girlfriend.
I was 15 the first year I went deer hunting with my Dad. It was cool on many levels. I started to swear in front of my Dad. I started to drink in front of him too. Just beer, mind. And only at night, after the day's hunting had been done.
I can't tell you what it did for my Pops and I. Lots of stuff happened. It brings a smile to my mouth, even now, as I think about it. The upshot of it was, my Pops and I bonded in a way that we had sorely needed. My relationship with him has gotten better ever since.
Now, you may not understand what that has to do with my 'first girlfriend', but I'm getting to that.
Imagine it if you will:
My Pops and I have come down off the mountain. After a week, I've managed to get a shower. We have a dead deer at our house, and we need to get it across town.
Oh, yeah. The trick was, we had no vehicle capable of transporting a deer carcass. No worries. We're going to borrow (and this kills me) Gerry Lewis's Bronco to move the meat. He has a small favor to ask in return, though.
Now, that in itself seems a resonable request for the loan of a vehicle, and under most circumstances, I'd have to agree.
But then, you don't know about Kelli.
See, we had do drop Gerry of at his g/f's house. Her name was Sue, and I knew her from the grocery store where my Pop worked. We get there, we go in. Sue offers me a beer. Flushed with my newfound freedom, I gladly accept. Across the room, sits Kelli, Sue's daughter. She's shorter than me, red hair. Cute as hell. Obviously not expecting company, as she's loafing around the house in sweats.
I try not to stare. Remember, I'm sweet-almost-sixteen-and-(honestly)-never-been-kissed. I told you a long time ago I was a late bloomer. Sue introduced us, of course, and I did my best to seem cool about drinking around my Dad. Couple days later my Pops and I are driving down Silver Sage Lane, and he says to me that Kelli was 'very impressed' with me.
Knowing what was going to happen, eyes wide the fuck open I say 'Really? Wow, that's the first time anyone I ever thought was cute thought I was cute too.'
Oh, the optimism of youth. I won't bore you with all the sordid details, but after a few dates, I found myself in an unbeliveable situation. Picture this: Myself, Kelli, my litte sis, and her's. The little girls are in the room, doing whatever it is young girls do, and Kelli and I are out in the living room.
*phgagh*
The passion I felt that night. Kissing, writhing, touching. Comforter on the floor, couple pillows. When she ran her hand under my shirt, and caressed my bare stomach...
GOD, what a thrill.
Now, this is the part where the suave, worldly, super spy type would make the sexual innuendo, throw back his martini, and get down to business. Well, yours truly got kinda flustered. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do. We kept making out, and it was hot as hell, but I think I paniced (sic) into inaction.
Anyhow, it was fucking hot. So, I'm thinking things are going good. I mean, for me, they're going great. Flash forward 3 or so months. Gerry turns up missing, and Sue enlists my and Pop's help to find him. After checking a few of his usual watering holes, we decide to cruise by the infamous house, and see if he's returned.
Seeing an unfamiliar car in the driveway, I ask. Sue tells me it's Kelli's friend Kellie's (how wierd is that? but she really did have a friend Kellie...that I knew before I knew Kelli) car. Needless to say, I found out later that night, from my Dad, might I add, that the car in fact, belonged to Kelli's boyfriend.
So, what does that have to do with the title? I told you It was going to be long.
One fine day, let's call it ten years later, I'm working at the 7-ELEVEn in Morro Bay, CA, and in walks this redhead. I glance at her, and the evil, wicked part of my brain says 'That's Kelli.' I respond with 'Get the fuck outta here', in classic Eddie Murphy style. She walks up, items in hand, and I hit her with 'This is going to sound strange, but did you ever live in Carson City?'
She looks at me and says 'I know you. You're Rich's son.' Fucking bitch didn't even remember my name (when she met me I was going by john. how the fuck to you forget john for fuck's sake).
I just smiled and blew it off. My only consolation? She looked bad. I mean, she was haggard. Even that didn't help. All the pain, all the frustration. It all came flooding back. I was so pissed off I could hardly see.
If I saw her today, I can't say it'd be any different. So, when 'they', whoever the fuck 'they' are, tell you that time heals all wounds, you can tell them T.J said to kiss his pucker.
Ok. I'm done, and you know a little more about why I don't trust women. I'm going to have one more beer, and lay it down for the night.
Keep those pic requests and questions coming.
El queso grande,
T.
p.s. if any of you are looking for my thursday post, it's over here Da Goddess
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