Defining Moment

I was admitted to a behavioral health clinic for a ten day evaluation, and under the impression I would go home afterwards, my "good behavior" and apparent sanity resulted in my being discharged two days early. I had also found out that, where everyone else, including my parents, had told me I was going home, my cousin informed me that I was to be sent to another placement. By this point I was just simply so tired of everyone else meddling in my life and in my head that I couldn't feel much more than extreme anger at everyone around me. All I wanted was to stay on the A/B honour roll, graduate school someday, be left alone to lead my own life and follow my dreams, and live my life in quiet solitude - perhaps finding a "special someone" along the way. But that was not possible for me when everyone else felt it their business to intrude upon my life and force me to "talk about my feelings" with total strangers.

Because of this overwhelming situation and my entirely too angry demeanor (I've never been, by far, the most patient of people, and I do have many faults as far as my temper goes. This comes from my entirely too belligerent, headstrong, and independent personality. For all I was the wallflower amidst my peers, I've also always been a very determined girl around adults. I also didn't take very well to unexplained authority, and by this I mean that "because I said so" just never has cut it with me), I wound up cursing the judge right out at my first court date, and being sent to juvenile detention for contempt of court.

After another placement, two added charges of assault and battery, three MORE placements, being stabbed in the neck by my roommate, entirely too many scenic and perfect memories of pain (both others' and my own, emotional and physical), and what seemed a lifetime's worth of sleepless nights, fighting for what I felt were my rights as a human being despite my age, and a lot of self-righteous adults later... I'd gone from that shy, wallflower of a girl to a brass, crude, balls-to-the-wall, intelligent, and entirely too lived-through woman - in the span of four years.

Which is why, just slightly over a year after finally coming home and adjusting to the welcome *privilege* of being able to piss without asking permission, I was not only gaining confidence but also walking a tight rope with it, as well. Being locked up, and moving from place to place, you eventually learn to "toughen up", act strong, and pretend you can actually fight in order to get some sort of respect from the people around you. Regardless of what KIND of placement you are in, or what AGE you and your peers may be, this fact is true universally. If you are bad before you go in, you get worse; and, if you aren't bad before you go in, you will be by the time you get out - it's that simple. The very placements designed to "help" children are more often likely to destroy any sense of self in the process, and very often hinder the growth process as opposed to help it. You get "real" more quickly - you realize the wrongs in the world and how to fight them - but you never truly learn what's right unless you can get past your misgivings and the life around you and realize that you're looking, not at what life should be, but exactly what it SHOULDN'T be. This same process happens with children who have been abused in their lives - usually they wind up either abusing their own children, or being steadfastedly against it. It all depends on what kind of a person you are to start out with, what kind of person you can allow yourself to grow to be, and how much pressure you can take before you give up.

Thankfully, my belligerent, headstrong, and independent personality helped me get not only myself, but many of the friends I made in those places through an experience which I would NEVER wish on even my worst enemy.

Somewhere along the way, I had grown, yes, but also had grown very weary of life. I felt as though I had 50 years of life lived within a 17 year old body. I never really did make many friends after coming home until I met HIM, because I just simply couldn't relate to most people my own age or near it who HADN'T had the kind of life experience that kind of maturity springs from.

So, in turn, I've told you that bit of my past in order to better explain just *how* out of character it was for me to approach him, let alone continue to do so. By that point in my life, I had lived entirely too much as far as personal things went - yet in the same situation, *because* of the same situation... I had not lived at all. Being locked up doesn't *prepare* you for life - it prepares you for pain, makes you grow, yes. But when you're out and of age, there are suddenly things in the world - frighteningly new and scary things - that every teenager must go through growing up. Bills. A social life. A job. Responsibility. Career choices.

Only, instead of dealing with such things at a slightly younger age, being suddenly forced into this "real world" situation at a much later age than normal makes a person just that much LESS capable of truly handling it.

Everything, upon getting out into the "real world" as we called it then, is new, and very, very scary. With no previous experience in such things, all the knowledge in the world couldn't help me with what I felt was this urgent NEED to prove myself. When I got out, I felt like I needed to assimilate myself into this "real world", get a job, pay bills, move out, and finish home schooling. I tried taking on entirely too much at once, however.

Which is why, although he must have seen me as somewhat of a self-sufficient, welcome change from what his girlfriend at that point was, I was really just on my way to being completely broken. I was desperate for some change in the mediocrity of life - something to distract me from the feelings overwhelming me - something to build more confidence with. I was also very tired of being alone, after having broken up with my first boyfriend two years prior. My first relationship lasted two years total, and after finally having someone in my life to cherish, I didn't take well to being alone again.

Seeing and meeting him, however... not only did it seem to be exactly what I needed right then, it was also just this entirely overpowering, overwhelming sensation - and I hadn't felt that passionate about much since I'd been "out". He wasn't just a refreshing change, by any means. I wish no one to get that misconception. He was that, and much more.

I think he was in much the same predicament, too - being overwhelmed with the on goings of life and love - because after knowing each other not even quite a month yet, I was practically living with him and his girlfriend for another three to four months after, and he and I wound up making what, to him was a self-proclaimed mistake, but to me was almost a life-altering experience.

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As previously established, I've never really been a truly confident person when it comes to personal things, with the exception of being locked up. After being stabbed by my roommate, I suddenly and drastically changed from a pliant, soft, weak girl into a sarcastic, cynical, bitch of a woman. I took shit from NO ONE. I protected my own - which I considered to be, although not my first female "relationship", my first female love. She was one hell of a woman... a goddess in her own right. Still is, in my mind, to this day.

However, a lot of that confidence wavered when it came to this new, strange world I found myself in - the unfamiliar environment of freedom. I awoke each day expecting the harsh light and grating voices of staff members that weren't there anymore, and breathing a sigh of relief when I realized that I wasn't on a home visit - I really was HOME. FOR GOOD. It took me months before I could really sleep the whole night through without feeling like a guest in my own home.

That same confidence, however, was returning - bit by bit - around HIM. He brought out the best (and worst) in me. I could almost be myself around him, without worrying about the daily trivialities that had plagued my mind before. My days were consumed with looking at him, talking to him, and, of course, "bonding" with his girlfriend.

(In retrospect, I suppose it might have been much better had I not attempted to assuage his girlfriend's suspicions by bonding with her as I did. At the time, I simply didn't want the drama. There were certain aspects of being locked up that I missed - drama, however, was not one of them. I'd already had about as much as I could stand.)

So, to my thinking, spending more time with his girlfriend than I did with him seemed like a good idea at the time. (It wasn't, by the way. Overprotective and bossy girlfriends and addicted women with crushes just don't mix, apparently. )

Eventually, though, what seemed to me like a hopeless cause eventually turned into something much more.

His loneliness and the rapidly declining situation in which he'd found himself at the time eventually began to get to him, I think. He began talking to me more and more about his feelings and problems when his girlfriend was at work. And although however cynical and uncaring I CAN be, I am, by nature, a very giving person. Because of this, I listened, and tried to stay objective. Yet in reality; in my mind… I was really just hoping they'd break up already so I could perhaps have a chance.

Being locked up does have a few advantages. One of which is being forced to be around so many people that, simply by paying attention to what goes on around you, you learn to pick up body language, what people DON'T say, and read in between the lines. You learn what makes people tick. What their motives are when they make an action - what their motives lead to when they DON'T make an action.

With that knowledge came a certain power - the ability to read more into some of his actions than was probably correct. Because of those assumptions, I began to form the idea that perhaps my attentions MIGHT be welcome. And so I would subtly do things to give the impression than any move HE made would be welcome.

I would never have the balls, quite frankly (and metaphorically…), to make a "first move" myself, really. BUT - manipulation, I had learned well; and, whether by my own subconscious and conscious mind projecting my emotions or whether by sheer luck itself, he took the initiative.



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Huh. So this is what a bar is like. Not really all that special, actually....

I'd been to some new, and sometimes strange to me, places since I'd been visiting him and his girlfriend so often - practically living with them. I only really went home to get cigarettes and occasionally my herbal teas and food. Her aunt owned the bar we were in at the time, and though I was underage, she allowed it for a limited time since they were there and they were my ride.

"So you've never done karaoke?"

"Nope."

Some guy that was sitting at the bar beside me apparently ran the karaoke events there, and was telling me all about the process of it. To be honest, it was more entertaining than watching my "crush" and his girlfriend spend time together, so I participated quite avidly in the conversation. I also noticed that his girlfriend's stepfather was very drunk and heading towards drunker. It was quite amusing.

"Yeah I download a lot of the songs offline - you'd be amazed at how many karaoke versions of songs you can find. Everything gets listed in this book, and then people pick out which one they want to do. It's a lot of work, but I love it."

"Seems like an interesting thing, though, music. I love music."

"What kind of music do you like?"

Although the man wasn't particularly UNattractive... he was at least twice as old as my current crush was and he was 25 to my by then 18. However, he seemed genuine in his interest in staying strictly platonic, so I continued the conversation quite naturally with no hesitations or worrying about being hit on.

"Mostly rock... rap, too. R&B.... well, everything actually." I said with a slight laugh.

He returned the laugh in kind and nodded emphatically, as though he knew exactly what I meant.

"Same here, that's…”

"Eclectic tastes."

"Exactly."

He was actually quite pleasant to talk to, really, but I could see the bar winding down for closing time and actually regretted for a moment that I didn't inquire as to an email address I could perhaps use to conversate with him again. It's rare to find someone so relaxed and easy-going that doesn't hit on you every time you turn around during a conversation - in a bar, no less.

However, that time came and went... and went... and went some more. Closing time had already come and gone, and my "crush" and his girlfriend were staying behind a bit until her aunt cleaned up for the night. His girlfriend's stepfather and two girls were still in the bar, as well; very clearly entirely too drunk to ensure safe passage home on their own.

His girlfriend offered to drive them; however, there was not enough room in the car for my "crush", his girlfriend, her step dad, the two girls, and myself. My "crush" and I opted to stay behind whilst she drove them home, since they didn't live very far away; and as they pulled out of the parking lot, we settled in on the steps outside the front door of the bar.

Most of the conversation from that point was very bland, and I don't really remember it until a certain point.

"I wanted to kiss you."

Merr....

"When?"

"The other day, when you were doing my nails. I wanted to kiss you."

By merely the word "kiss" I was already completely flabbergasted. Making assumptions based on someone's actions and actually seeing the fruition of those self-same assumptions are two different things entirely, and I felt as though my entire world had suddenly gone all topsy-turvy on me in the mere fraction of a second it took for those words to form in his head and breeze so easily from his suddenly, enticingly.. irresistible lips.

Ever had one of those moments? Where, in a split-second, your line of vision narrows down to one particular thing, and everything else around it seems somewhat blurry? Besides being high, I mean. It was tantamount to, however. I was totally, inexplicably high on the thought of those lips touching my own. If I had thought about it too much, I think I might have fainted dead away right there.

"Why didn't you?"

Yes... WHY?! WHY WHY WHY?!!?! Goddess... why...

"Because I didn't know when she would be home. I didn't want her to walk in or something."

And then, for me... the gravity of the situation hit. Not only did my crush FINALLY express interest in me other than merely a friend or confidant... but he was taken. He had a *girlfriend* already. I have a very logical brain, and when that realization hit, I immediately began racing through every single alternative outcome this whole situation could have at the end.

I concluded that either he and I were going to get together, without his girlfriend's knowledge, and be together until they broke up and after; we were going to get together behind her back and get caught someday; we were going to constantly tip-toe around each other until our brains bled out from the constant tension; or I would not have much time with him left, and wouldn't be spending nearly as much time, if any, at his house.

"Well what about now?"

Did I just say that...?

"They'll be back in a little bit. Not now."

And so, the FIRST of many moments to come happened, and a sequence of events was begun that I honestly don't think, even in retrospect, could have honestly been altered in any way.

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Have you ever had an addiction? To anything, really. Coffee, cigarettes, carbonated sodas, candy - maybe perhaps a song or a TV show, or hell, in this day and age - drugs, alcohol. You know that really, REALLY long wait that seems to take absolutely FOREVER in-between fixes? Yeah, that.

It was only, in actuality, one day in between that conversation on the steps of his girlfriend's aunt's bar, and our next "incident", but the day after the next seemed... to take... forever. It was like walking around with a constant tension in my body, an almost living, breathing thrum of anticipation and excitement - of anxiety and frustration. Impatience.

And it's a vicious circle of thought, too.

"I wanted to kiss you." "...the other day." "not now." "... want to kiss you" "kiss you" "kiss.... I want to kiss you...."

Even now, just typing this, it's echoing in my head with perfect clarity and it's still just as annoying as that first time some four years ago.

However, the restlessness soon came to a close when, the next day... everything we'd been tip-toeing around came to a head.

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"The other night, you said you wanted to kiss me."

"Yeah. What about it?"

"Dunna, was just thinking about it."

Yes, I have all the balls in the world, don't I?

"I don't think you'd actually do it."

"What?"

"Kissing me. I don't think you'll do it."

"Why do you think that?"

"Because you haven't yet."

"Maybe I'm waiting for the right time."

NOW!!! Damnit. I've always been so impatient at times. But honestly... who wouldn't be?!

He was lying down on the longer couch, and I was sitting perched near the edge of the loveseat (the irony was not lost on me, either); and every three seconds all I could hear in my own head was... "... want to kiss you."

It was excruciatingly awkward. You watch romantic movies, and there's always the tension... and the two people tip-toe, and there's the anxiety and frustration... then finally, it all culminates into this beautifully scenic Scarlett O'Hara moment where one minute, everything is almost normal, and the next... the two people are practically inhaling each other in this TORRID kiss that just makes you want to snuggle up on the couch with a cozy blanket and a big tub of ice cream and pout, bitch, and whine about not having a man like THAT anytime soon.

But real life isn't like that. At least, that was the impression I was getting at that particular moment.

I glanced over at him. We talked. I glanced at the floor. We talked some more. I shifted to get more comfortable on my 3-inch self-designated perch on the edge of the loveseat and almost assed out on the floor in the process. We talked some more.

Finally, I *had* to get up. There was just too much energy floating around in my body to sit still any longer, and he chose that moment to spout out the sentence that damned us both for nearly a year after.

"Come over here."

He patted the spot in front of him, sliding back-to-back with the couch to make room. I just looked at him inquiringly and wondering...

Merr..?

"Huh?"

"Come sit over here."

"Uh... okay..."

Suspicious by nature, I automatically thought something was up. Didn't know what, but something was *definitely* brewing in that beautiful little head of his. However, it was also an opportunity to be closer to him... so, of course I didn't object.

I sat down.

No, really. That's pretty much all there was to it.

I just... sat down.

...

We talked some more.

Eventually the ever-so-mature "I don't think you'll do it" talk became infectious... and *I* wound up kissing *him*.

Let me tell you, there has NEVER been another moment so painstakingly awkward or clumsy in my life.

I leaned over... barely touched his lips with mine.... felt like I was about to pass out and could just barely keep myself from falling on him bracing myself on my arms they were shaking so badly... then did it again...