last week's crush

LWC post #8: 10/19/2010

In 2006 I got an ipod that I use still. From April 2007 on, I have kept monthly playlists. If anyone were to throw out a random date from the last few years at me, and ask what was going on in my life, I probably could not say. If I scrolled through my playlist of that month, however, I am positive I could tell you in great detail. I also make playlists for specific people and situations, of songs that say the things about them that I wish I could, but cannot. Without realizing it at the start, by doing this I’ve kept a different, but honestly just as thorough, diary of sorts. I really value it. Twice in the time I have had this ipod, my computer had to undergo a system restore. I painstakingly rebuilt every single playlist both times before I would dare sync my ipod to the current itunes. They connect me just as vividly to my memories and the feelings tied to them as my own words do.

I’ve decided I would like to incorporate this form of journaling into this project as well. Quite often I like to scroll through, play songs, and just remember. I think about the things I’ve learned and moved on from, and also what I still carry with me. There are so many stories I would like to share about the time I first heard that band, met that person, or had that experience. It is encouraging to look back from where you stand today, across to a beginning, and feel growth. And when there is no growth to feel, it is at least somewhat therapeutic.

<3 LWC post #7: 09/29/2010

“It’s like Iowa, with an M”

That’s the second thing Mayowa usually has to say to every stupid American he meets after introducing himself. Within hours of moving to Purdue I spotted him. He was dressed like me and carrying a checkered guitar case. I think Courtney and I exchanged knowing glances. I think my boyfriend, who was also there helping me move, knowingly glanced at our knowing glances.

Later that week, my roommates and I, along with some other girls from our building, were walking home from an improv show. One of the girls saw someone she knew walking home too, and shouted over to him, telling us, “You have to meet Mayowa!” A group of us met him, but it felt like we only met each other. It was like a memory even as it happened, slow and vidid. I remember that I was wearing a Sex Pistols shirt and checkered Vans and that he was wearing Chuck Taylors and, I think…a blazer. That year I looked down everywhere I went, checking out feet for Chucks before I’d look up at a boy; that was my thing in 2004. Mayowa will tell you that I was wearing a lot of eyeliner, but I really doubt it, and he isn’t even sure anymore. I remember how his handshake felt and what was going off in my head, or rather what wasn’t- he had a British accent. I was pretty lost in intrigue. There are rare moments when you meet someone new and can feel in an instant that this person is for you, and that they’re going to be something in your life even if you can’t yet tell what or how. We had a few words about music and he sang a little “I got soul, but I’m not a soldier” and “Jacqueline…was seventeen…” before we parted ways. Back at the apartment, my roommates and I giggled and screamed.

I don’t remember exchanging numbers or making first plans with him, just that we started hanging out after that. He lived in the nearest boys’ building. The girls in our building and the boys in that building found each other; that’s another story. Sometimes we hung out in what later became our core group of friends/family. Sometimes we hung out alone. The first weekend after classes I went home. I texted him that I missed him. He replied, “Miss me?! You’ve known me like a week, you big ole tease. You’re not real…”

The first weeks of our friendship still seem like months; a lot played out fast. He was the friend I dreamed of having all throughout high school, but never found. I never had a friend from another country; shit, I never had a black friend before, unless I can count the boy who used to give me, “Damn girl, you fine as hell” in the hallways. A lot of these memories have been lost due to school just starting up; I wasn’t keeping a journal, but some parts I can play in my mind like a movie.

One such time was when we went for an after midnight walk around campus in our pajamas in the rain. I know, die from how filmic that is. We talked about the kind of boys we liked(similarly thin); our families(similarly religious); musical tastes(similarly snobby); and a little fashion(scarves! converse!). I will never forget how when I revealed my only piercing, he casually dropped having his naval pierced once too. “When I was sixteen…”, he said, as if it were years ago, done on a youthful whim. Perhaps not even a week later he celebrated a birthday, his seventeenth. He ended that night by asking me to walk him home, “if you want to be modern”. I didn’t. I wasn’t looking to meet my match. I wanted to be on a pedestal and told pretty things. This was at the height of my feelings of entitlement over boys, which is still, let’s be honest, a factor…so, I found it cavalier and disagreeable, but was of course obliged to reject him.

It was an act. I quite liked him. I told all my friends about the coolest kid ever, living 50 feet away from me. Hell, I told my boyfriend; I was excited. He was not. When the two met, Mayowa tried to be personable and strike up a talk about boxing, which I had told him Kevin was really into. Kevin replied with, “Yeah, I’d like to go a couple rounds with you.” He always met the subject of Mayowa with disdain and jealousy. I always contested the idea that Mayowa was any threat to him, but looking back- I guess he was. Sorry, Kevin.

Nothing physical ever happened between us, but at the very least it was inappropriate and disrespectful of me. One time when I was a little drunk and on my way to some lame frat party, I saw Mayowa sitting by himself on a sorority house’s porch swing. I joined him; we sat and talked for a while. I never told him that I really wanted him to kiss me then, possibly only because I had been drinking, but nonetheless. He didn’t though, and I went off and did whatever. Another time when my roommate had an annoying guy over, I stayed the night with Mayowa; he gave me his bed and slept on the floor on a bean bag. I was lucky he was gentlemanly enough for the both of us.

We had talked on the phone, texted, saw a lot of each other, shared many meals, exchanged mix cds, life stories, and had fun experiences together. Remember, this was all in a few weeks. He called me one night to hang out and talk, catch up, whatever. I don’t really remember why it seemed like something to get excited about, but for some reason I did. He had recently told me, with some reluctance, in the most charming of Mayowa ways, that he “fancied the pants off me.” I thought our flirtation had been going really well, was leading up to something, and that I was about to seal some sort of deal. Infact I was positive; my skirt was very short. In my limited juvenile experiences, that’d get you just about the whole world from a boy. We sat outside and talked for a while. At any moment he would break down and confess his love for me; I was sure…and then…and then, the infamous crusher:

“Did I tell you about the girl I met at swing dance?”

I don’t know what I replied, but I know the look on my face said it all. He smugly went on:

“Oh, didn’t I tell you? You’re last week’s crush.”

I felt like Scarlett O’Hara; it was inconceivable to me how my charms had failed me. Again, I don’t know what I may have said; I had mentally checked out. Soon, I got up and left. My roommates knew I had expected something that night; they were waiting with smiles and eager faces when I walked in. I met them spewing all sorts of hellfire and what the fuck. It was the single hardest blow my vanity had ever taken. Feelings that were more than superficial are debatable. I was never going to break up with my boyfriend for him, and I’m sure he knew that. In his position, I wouldn’t want or trust any girl acting the way I did with a boyfriend. This was my position though, the position that mattered, and who did he think he was?

We stopped talking completely; when I had to see him I put on my best ‘you’re dead to me’ face. This was trying, as my friends were his friends now, and I remember opting out of many family dinners to avoid him. Our feud and “last week’s crush” became infamous amongst our friends. We fought through them sometimes. Well, I fought, he mostly relished in the drama I think. Katie would pass on that I hated him; Alex would inform me that Mayowa didn’t hate me because “I wasn’t worth hating”, even worse. Once around Halloween when I went home for the weekend, he stole one of my scarves while he was at our apartment. After Christmas break he came over and gave my roommates, one of whom he was barely friends with, gifts of jewelry from his home in Nigeria, in front of me, without even saying hello. He was extremely adept at toying with my pride. He was an engineering major then, and little did I know he would soon switch to studying public relations, which he was born to do. Never expect to string along a P.R. guy, and never, ever expect to win, because I had not in fact met my match. He was much more talented than I.

The rest of the semester passed this way. It was a new year. Then my boyfriend broke up with me, for reasons that had nothing to do with Mayowa. I was all around a bad girlfriend, the only kind one can be when you’re eighteen and it’s your first go. Still, I was devastated. Mayowa heard about it, made me a cd, and slid it under my door one morning. It was full of pretty and uplifting songs like “Strange and Beautiful”, “Friday I’m in Love”, “What A Wonderful World”, and the Austin Powers theme. When I found it hard to even get out of bed, he had found a way to make me smile and laugh my way to classes all day. I called him to thank him; he denied that he made it. I’m pretty sure everything was let go then. Slowly we started our friendship over. He came over; we had a heart to heart while flipping through Vogues, which he then stole. It was pretty damn good to have him back. I had been humbled, no longer calculating, and it was very simple to fall in pure love with him.

I feel our friendship has been on the rise ever since. It’s silly that I took things as personally as I did. That’s just his style, interested in everyone in a playful, but never cheap way. I have found much more intimacy with Mayowa being on the safe and knowing side of his crushes on other girls…or boys. He has a sincere appreciation for people’s differences. He was always on me about my prejudices and dismissiveness. He told me I was the kind of person that had to meet as many different people as possible to refute these misconceptions because I didn’t like the idea of anyone new and unfamiliar. I didn’t mention that when you were with him, you were constantly getting stopped for a stop and chat by people on the street who knew him. This guy knew everybody, and everybody loved him. When he talks to you, he listens intently, and has a way of making you feel like your opinions or problems are always important to him. John calls it his “Jesus complex”. I think that’s why he hits it off with so many people. Most people “listen” to each other waiting to relate and jump in; Mayowa just listens to get to know you.

My good friends from home have met him a handful of times at the most, and even so, he holds a memorable and high place in their hearts and minds. Courtney’s very first encounter was so fitting. We were driving around campus when she noticed a character on the sidewalk, and shouted, “Who’s that fucking strutting?!” I looked out at someone walking with their blazer slung over one shoulder, one hand in their pocket, head tilted back slightly. I happily exclaimed, “That’s Mayowa!” We’ve come back from spending time with him, and they are changed. They sigh about how refreshing it felt to be around a good person, who listened without trying to use them, who didn’t make them feel like they were a way to kill time, and who didn’t make them keep up with everyone else’s dynamic and banter.

As much as my first boyfriend hated him, my second boyfriend couldn’t have loved him more. He always said that Mayowa reminded him of Freddie Mercury, a high and suitable compliment. He actually met Mayowa before meeting him through me, and unsurprisingly, he made a lasting impression by simply holding a door open for him once in Lafayette about a year earlier. Mayowa was probably the one friend in my life he was never untrusting of. I unclearly remember being told something like, “You two could have naked sleepovers and I wouldn’t give a shit”. He wouldn’t even say that about Courtney…ok, especially, not Courtney. While one boy became persona non grata for telling me I had a “lovely voice”, Mayowa could openly joke with my boyfriend about having sordid sex with me and somehow he’d be all at once humored, proud, and trusting of the fact that there was no more to it than if Mayowa had said something about the weather we were having. He jests just enough to make me feel pretty, and my boy feel chuffed, but never disrespects anyone or their relationship. Public relations.

There is usually a lot of time and distance between us, but I regard him as one of my best friends still. If I never saw him again, I think I’d still feel close to him for the rest of my life. He’s always been encouraging to me, regardless of what stupid dead-end crap I am into. I can’t remember him ever giving me some tough love bullshit either, which has never worked on me anyway. It’s always positivity and hope. He’s always on Team Jessie. I barely remember the context, but there was a time, when for some reason, some unwanted attention had fallen upon me. That made some other person jealous or hateful toward me. I was struggling with guilt over the situation, and Mayowa simply commented, “You have to realize, some people go unnoticed their whole lives; you have star quality.” He’s seen me through losses and gains of friends and lovers; he can be as accepting as I would like or need him to be, or stay impartial as I choose to either forgive, cut loose, or settle for others.

While so many people know and love him; we still have something special between us that is just ours. In recent months, I’ve been seeing more of him than I have in years. It’s been tons of fun, and also, so comforting. I have really leaned on him the past year. Perhaps too much. I’ve done everything short of pulling my heart of out my chest, placing it on his table, and saying, “Here. You do something with this; because I can’t look at it anymore.” I confess to him like he’s a priest. I can trust him to be loyal to me, so I tell him everything. He has a way of spinning my fears into sugar with his words. It’s nice to have one friend telling me from a genuine place that I’m not as bad as I think I am. I don’t know what’s next for us, since we’re both indeterminate souls, but I know it will continue to be an essential and inimitable relationship.

I have been writing this for about a year, whenever those days and what our friendship means to me are on my mind. It’s far from all-encompassing, and it is something I will continue to edit and build upon. Eventually, I would like to do this for all my great friends, but I had to start with him. For more than anyone else, he’s encouraged what I feel may be my only talent.

I love you so much, M.

-LWC

LWC post #6: 2/08/2010

I usually stay out of journals this recent(October or November 2008?) because enough time hasn’t passed to be objective, but this was too cute to me. It doesn’t make me sad because that boy is gone; it just makes me happy because it is a testament to friendship being the only true love. I had only recently started talking to Courtney again and I was at the time still mostly estranged from Joanna; I think this was the first time we spoke in over a year. And Jamie was there with me at the Back 40, in Wanatah, probably the diviest bar I’ve been to next to Kniman Tap. Life had just entered a blissfully happy chapter because all my relationships were either healing or blossoming after a really bad stretch of life sucking. I was overcome with love because I finally felt complete again, and I decided to tell my boyfriend that I loved him for the first time, after weeks of knowing that I did, and wondering when and how. I had forgotten what a big part my friends played in that, and was moved to rediscover it. I remember now being alone on the phone outside in front of the bar that night, crying and laughing because I was so happy. What a feeling. I hope someone saw me and thought I was crazy. Someday when I’m completely without bitterness, I will discuss more on telling people for the first time that you love them, because that would be cute and sweet. I will probably have to love some more people first though, because it would be too short a post now.

UPDATE:
I am objective about that relationship now, with very minimal bitterness. I rule. I have not loved anyone new. The only thing that comes close is the ‘09-‘10 Chicago Blackhawks team. I mean that.

LWC post #5: 1/22/2010

“I talked to Kevin from 2:00-10:37”

My head just exploded. I forgot my first real relationship almost entirely. When it comes up, I can’t really remember what we talked about, the things we did, or how we interacted day to day. Apparently in the first weeks of dating we had 8+ hour phone conversations, which I mention “would have been longer if my bitchy mom had not intervened.” Whaaaat? In 2002 I wasn’t allowed to talk on the phone with a boy past 10:37 or longer than 8 hours, but by 2007 my boyfriend was allowed to sleep over? In just 5 years I went from being grounded to being pounded under the same roof. I love my parents so much and we have such an easygoing relationship now. I can’t even believe I felt that way about her then, my “bitchy” mom who has since bought me see-through underwear for a vacation with a boy. The tyrannical days of old are insane to recall after a couple of drunk pukes on yourself in front of Mom and Dad.

That’s not even the part that’s most shocking though. It’s a sad shock. I realize no one may ever work as hard as a high school boyfriend just to get to know me. We were like children at the start. I think I won him over by leaving Carmellos in his locker for a year. The first time we hung out we went to Dairy Queen, played in the park, then back at his house he showed me all of his knives, swords, and the kwang. I referred to it as “the highlight of my summer” at that point. A few days later we just went to Indiana Beach and “it was the new highlight of my summer”.

Less than a week later Joanna called me to our friend’s house because he was there. One of his friends had “the talk” with me while he shyly hid. Friend was all, “Look Jessica, Kevin talks about you all the time and I’m sick of listening to it. He asks what to do because you’re not like other girls; you’re weird-in a very good way.” I should mention that I already sort of had a “boyfriend”, but we never even talked we were so shy. Kevin’s friend then proceeded to call said “5 foot 4 inch problem” to break up with him for me, but he wasn’t home. I went outside where Kevin was playing basketball and we made awkward conversation for a minute and then he asked me to be his girlfriend. I grabbed his hand, said yes, then immediately laughed in his face, “Ha! I’ve got two boyfriends!”

And so it began. I detailed (to the minute) our every phone conversation for about three weeks. Once I wrote, “Yesterday we planned our futures, how we can work as little as possible and make money. He will have a knife museum and I will be the curator.” And another time, “My whole day was talking to him. We talked forever. We made a story about a milkman named Ed. We had a spelling bee. He won with ‘preemptive’; I lost on ‘guerilla warfare’. We named his gecko James-James FAScrack( FAScrack is a crack baby with fetal alcohol syndrome). We did somersaults over the phone.” Things were all, “I can tell he likes me a lot, it’s the little things. He carries the sticky hand I gave him everywhere.”, and, “We went to Target and played with toys until they closed then we went back to his house to watch Fight Club.”

I’m glad I wrote all those things down because I didn’t remember one of them until I re-read them. Then a lot of memories that were not in journals came back to me about the things we did: giving each other horse rides on our backs, building a Lego strip club, playing some boxing video game where I always chose to be a bear so I could win, and him detailing to me for a good 20 minutes about the best pizza he ever had, “the miracle in your mouth”. Things didn’t get romantic or physical for so long. We were together over a month before the first time he asked for a “goodbye hug”. I still believe that’s the way it’s supposed to be, a slow fall for your best friend.

More importantly, I did not remember what open, undamaged hearts were like. Now I see people accept anything; I see them give nothing. Getting to know someone is so difficult, and the incentive to lie is everywhere. That’s kind of what this whole thing is about. I’m so guarded now; I can’t even say this person and that person together know everything about me liked I used to. There’s an ever-growing list of things I keep to myself completely, but I’m trying to get away from that. I have 275 Facebook friends, 57 contacts in my phone, maybe 15 of whom I text regularly, and about 4 friends I call. I want to be open if someone wants to know me and I want to like someone enough to talk to them for 8 hours or until I fall asleep or my mom makes me hang up. I want to play in the park.

UPDATE:
I still suck at this. I’m a pretty reliable drunken-spiller-of-secrets, but I’m not exactly getting close to anyone. I text even less people most likely; I think I only call Courtney. We were talking about this a few weeks ago. There are so many people that I love so much, yet I don’t feel the ease of just calling them up, or saying so. I still hope I can work on this. My friends, even the newer ones and people I don’t see much, mean everything to me, honest. This is why, as exposing and downright regrettable it is at times to share so much with so many people, that maybe can’t be trusted; I’m doing it. People have to let their feelings show. There’s a Jonathan Richman quote on my Facebook that says so. I’ve always believed it.

LWC post #3: 12/10/2009

The Significance of “Last Week’s Crush” Pt. 1

I am working on the specific story. Everyone who knows me well already knows, but I want to tell it anyway. That’s not what this post is about though. Reading through all of my journals, what struck me was how about 80% of my writing revolves around some boy. Even when I was five. I was always crushed out. Boys never liked me back. I was pretty fickle; I liked a ton of boys. They kept me from being bored. I’ve had a handful of big crushes, one or two serious pinings, and two reciprocated loves. Now catching eyes is easy, catching hearts is near impossible, and boys just never like me back more.

I spoke with Courtney about it. She assured me that that is how girls are, and that she too categorizes her life by the guys she’s dated, and counts all the time before a boyfriend as “childhood”. I can’t say it’s just really about boys though. It’s about crushes. It’s about passionate interests. I’ve done this with bands, movies, and even television shows. I don’t know why I needed to feel connected with, and absorbed in something outside of myself so badly. I never did things for myself, instead I was always searching for someone to do things with. I’ve just never really felt like a capable person. I’m a dreamer, not a doer. I’ve never tried to find myself, actively. I envision my ideal self. I’ve tried to get lost and hope somebody else finds me to show me the way to that self. Stupid.

I don’t know where the obsession with romanticism comes from other than the fact that I’m a Pisces and that’s how we turn out. I was brought up in a way that didn’t raise question to Mom, Dad, or Jesus’ love for me. I’m the opposite of “Daddy Issues”. I had a near perfect male role model. Now I even struggle with thinking my standards are too high because I am judgmental and dismissive when a guy doesn’t mirror my father’s goodness, honesty, and clean living. I know my dad was one in a billion. I try to understand that most people have clueless parents and bad childhoods, and mine were not perfect either. However, it is because I know what a man can be, that regardless of mistakes I make(even huge ones), and settling I do for a time(even a long time); I’ll never compromise once someone has revealed themselves to be wrong for me. I am glad that love has always been my aim, but now that I’m older it means something very different. The scope of how I need it has changed.

UPDATE 9-27-10:
I wrote that nearly a year ago, and have changed a lot since. Love isn’t my aim these days. I am aimless. Total confusion isn’t a good feeling, but it beats the hell out of a broken heart and rejection.

LWC post #2: 12/08/2009

I have for the most part documented my thoughts since I could write. I’ve never been a girl of action or many words; I observe and reflect, to the point of ruin possibly. I think all that life has “prepared” me for is writing. I decided to do this for: a laugh, unexpected illumination, my friends’ boredom at work, and as a backup should anything happen to my thirteen and counting diaries, notebooks, and journals. I believe I have held onto all of them, save for two that were wholly dedicated to my 6th and 7th grade crushes, respectively. I found them in high school and destroyed those. I attempted poetry; it was bad. My past feelings don’t really embarrass me, but my poor expressions of those feelings do. For the past few weeks I’ve been reading random passages. Life is funny. In enough time, everything becomes okay.I am removed from a surprising amount of the past anyway.
I have selfish motives too. Obviously I wish to write for accolades and money one day because I don’t really do too much else. My inactions in life betray me, and I also feel terribly misrepresented on the internet, and I’m nobody, and it still bothers me. I can’t imagine how people that have serious numbers of people watching them feel. Humanity and compassion become hard to preserve when all you have are 140 characters and a ‘like’ button. Reality isn’t any better. There are devastating amounts of obstructions that people put up between themselves. Anything that makes people feel like they don’t have to be clever all the time and constantly keeping up is nice.