Friday, February 13, 2009

Tales From the Crypt

When I was a freshman in high school I went out with a guy. We'll call him Paul. Because that was his name. He was a senior which is very important to this story as that is the only reason I can attribute for me ever going out with him. He drove a Honda with fuzzy maroon seat covers discreetly embroidered with the Playboy bunny. He listened to a lot of DeBarge and once told me that he had a bottle of champagne saved in the event he lost his virginity. He often asked if I was thirsty. I was not. On Valentine's day the seniors were allowed to send out candy-grams, and it was a big deal if the door of your 3rd period class opened up with someone delivering a rose and sugar hearts. I was earnestly learning about the symbolism in Great Expectations when the door to my English class opened and I was given my candy-gram along with a note from Paul. It read: To be sung to the tune of Joanna, by Kool and the Gang. Susannah, I like you. You're the one, the one for me. With your bright blue eyes and smile so sweet. Or something like that. My eyes are most decidedly brown.
In college, the early years, Bryan and I were often broken up. He was a dick and I was needy. Together we formed one rockin' duo, his hair longer than mine, my heart all dry and puckered, exposed as it was pinned to my sleeve. You know how you have certain memories so clear and fresh that you can still smell the flinty wood of the pencil? One prematurely spring day I sat in a geography class that I had signed up for only because Bryan needed it for a science credit. He was not in class that day. The sun shone into the window of the classroom, smacking my cheek with what I knew was an unflattering glare. As the professor droned on and on about oxbow lakes I bent my head out of the sun and doodled a picture in my notebook. It looked something like this:
Titled: Self-Portrait, With Zits, it was a soul searching journey into my nineteen year old psyche. I can still recall the deep sense of loss as I dotted on the pimples--they were the kind that feel as if they greet the day two steps ahead of you. I was just so sad, so deeply, deeply sad remembering a time (probably the week before) when Bryan loved me. I felt forgotten, as if the river had changed its path on me unexpected, meandered a bit to the right or to the left, going with the flow, the path of least resistance, leaving me stagnant and alone. Resisted and zitty. It was Valentine's Day. Later Bryan gave me some flowers that his roommate had gotten from his girlfriend but didn't want. I hung them upside down on my bedroom wall to dry.
In kindergarten I had a friend that was a boy so I suppose he was my boyfriend. His name was Chris and one day he invited me over to his house to go swimming and make Valentine's day cards out of doilies, glue sticks and glitter. At the pool his younger brother kept trying to pull down my bathing suit bottoms but Chris said he would only tell his mom if I showed him what was really underneath. We went behind the shed and I pulled down my bottoms and then Chris went back to the pool and played underwater Storm Troopers with his brother. He never told his mom. Valentine's Day: I am not a fan. Tomorrow night Bryan and I have a date to go see Slumdog Millionaire; the suffering seems appropriate. Do you have any good stories of V-day gone wrong? A time, perhaps, when the Hallmark card would not open, the pages stuck together with a good story? If so, please share. And either way, know that I love you. Someone you've never met, February 14th and beyond. Have a good one. (Or don't. Which is totally fine, too.)


Tess said...

Heh. I totally did that "dry the flowers upside down on the wall" thing too. What was the POINT of that?

Simply AnonyMom said...

This is my most vivid memory of V-day as a child/tween. It was the 7th grade. I was almost 13. I had a boyfriend in the 8th grade. he was rich. Eighties rich. He liked me becuase I let him touch my breasts.

On V-day he presented me (at shcool) with a dozen roses. He had them DELIVERED! There was a really sweet card (I did not keep it). I was on cloud nine the whole day...until I gort home.

You see Feb 14th is my youngest sisters biirthday. When I walked in the door with my roses my parents were NOT happy. They said I was too young to have a boyfriend and so they gave my sister my flowers for her birthday. They let each of her firends at her b-day party that weekend take one home. I was grounded from the phone. To spite them, the next weekend I stayed at my friends house, snuck out and let him take my shirt off and see my breasts. Yea, I am a rebel.

I still am mad about it to this day. I hate receiving roses because of it. I understand she got the shaft for being born on a "holiday" but my b-day is often easter and they never took her easter present from her to give to me.

ANyways...Happy overly commercialized day for those that are loved or think they are.

Regardez Moi said...

okay first...

the picture of that man with the heart shaped body hair? that made me snort, and I do mean SNORT, out loud in my office. I'm pretty sure my whole floor heard it.

i don't have any really embarrassing or otherwise interesting Valentine's Day stories. Oh wait, yes I do!

For our first V-day my ex and I decided to stay in and cook together. We made spicy fajitas. Then engaged in some spicy activity. When his spicy mouth came close to my lady area, it set it on fire. Like, almost literally. My crotch was ablaze for the rest of the night.

The end.

Annie Empiric said...

Sophmore year of high school (which just so happens to also be the last year I attended...) my boyfriend, Rich, brought me one hot pink tulip. I was a rebel (if you didn't already get that from the HS dropout reference above) and loved the daringly different flower choice. I wore all black that day and boldly waved my pink tulip from class to class like a rainbow flag at a gay pride parade.

For lunch we went home to his house to make out but I left, sad, after discovering the mate's to my flower in a bouquet on the dining room table belonging to his Mom. His laziness crushed me.

Later that afternoon I saw my "friend", Heidi, with the same pink tulip so I dumped his ass and spent the afternoon with my friends drinking Malibu rum in my bedroom writing poems for Rich:

Tulips are pink
Your balls are blue
I hate your guts
Whatcha gonna do?

Petunia said...

In 7th grade I was in love with a boy named Bruce. We used to make out in the back seat of the bus on class trips. It was to be my very first Valentine's Day with a boyfriend..except he gave the Valentine's Day card to another girl. His next girlfriend. He forgot to tell me he'd moved on. I was so humiliated but still gazed at him for months. Dumb boys. I hate Valentine's Day. It's so over ated and always a disappointment. BTW, Slundog is amazing! Good choice.

Ana said...

uhmmm...Page and I had Valentine's Day dinner at Lulu's. Ordered the roasted chicken and on the cab ride back to our 1 bedroom/1 BATH in the city, realized that we had food poisoning. We spent the whole night taking turns.
How is that for a romantic evening???

april said...

I am always amazed at the incredible detail and amount of memories you have, My Sweet Valentine Sus. I don't seem to have that many early childhood memories and certainly not with such detail...but then it's been a whole lot longer in the past for me.

I can' think of Velentine's Day without remembering 4th grade. There just wasn't much in the way of sensitivity surrounding school functions way back then because I don't think this could happen the same way today. I recall as if I were still in my deskchair, actual wooden oiled floors, the smell of lemon oil and wood shavings they used to maintain the floors, chalk and wet wool coats. On Valentine's Day the teacher had everyone decorate a paper lunch bag which she then taped in a row to the bottom of the chalkboard in the front of the room. On her command, small groups of us were to get up and pass out our Valentine cards; putting them in each bag as we desired. As you might expect, it was not only humiliating to have to give one's cards this way but far more awful to sit and watch to see how many, if any, cards were put in your bag. I doubt there was a comfortable person in the room...all of us red-faced and breathless. I had just relaxed a little because I saw that some people had put cards in my bag...but had I done cards for those same people? Suddenly I realized that James Bratt (and yes, that really was his name)the boy no one liked, the one who stuttered and was so painfully shy that he cried everytime he had to speak and once even wet his pants when the teacher called on him...No one had put a card in his bag and there it hung all decorated and happy and flat and empty. And worst of all, he had to watch it all play out. Us prissy girls had our Valentine cards all carefully selected, addressed and had come to school with them in a decorated candy box. I desperately wanted someone to put just one card in James' bag. I couldn't understand why there was still laughter and chatter going on and why the other kids weren't as tense and uneasy as I was watching James watch our classmates walk past his bag over and over without a card slipping inside it. I WANTED to make it all right for James' (and that sort of sums up my early enabling career) but I had no spare Valentine cards and even if I had them, how could I go up and put a bunch of them in his bag in front of everyone. I had already had my turn anyway. I will never forget nor will I ever like Valentine's Day because James Bratt's bag remained empty and I hurt so badly for him that I cried. I wanted to dump my cards in his bag and run. I wanted to put a stop to his humilation and hurt but there was nothing I could do. That's all I remember of that year in school. That's all I remember about James Bratt. I've never cared for Valentine's Day since then. I wonder where James is now and whether he has a sweetheart.

Anonymous said...

Love the post. How's this... My boyfriend is planning on moving in within the next two weeks. I've never been in such a relationship as this. So good, I mean. Found a note last night to his ex that he was thinking of her (insert P -private part word). V-Day blows.

Tara said...

I've never been one to celebrate, except for one year when I guy I'd just started dating arranged a fabulous evening in NYC. But the REALLY memorable part of that night? A story he told me about a friend whose girlfriend had broken up with him that night because she didn't like the guy's gift. The gift? A card with a $20 bill in it. Every year, for a whole day, I go around repeating "a card with a $20 bill in it" to myself and laughing and laughing.

Maggie May said...

that penis bed makes me feel sick to my stomach

Vanessa said...

Yeah, I have a bad Valentine's Day story for you. Today. I have always had great V-days. Always had a boyfriend. Last year I didn't, but that was ok, because it was the first time I'd ever really been single. But this year I asked my ex to hang out, and he declined because he "needs more time." The man who was in love with me for 8 years DECLINED. So then I made plans with one of my friends to see a movie instead. She just called to say she's got a migraine. What the fuck?
Did I mention I'm living with my parents until June? My mother now pities me and has offered to cancel her plans with my dad so she can take me to the movies. Yeah, I'm pretty much going places in my life...
So, to answer your question, yes, I have an embarrassing Valentine's day story, but the day is young. So stay tuned.

Lolo said...

I hope that Bryan does a special dance on the pole for you before hopping into the giant peener bed of lurve.

zakary said...

Love the post and Jozette's is making me laugh my ass off!

The Lil Bee said...

Ooh, those inverted hairy hearts are HAWT! I think you might've inspired me to take a walk down my own dysfunctional Valentine's Day lane. Generally, they all sucked, until Paul. My Paul is a good one;)

Did Zoey make you some paper hearts?

monkey said...

that guy's facial hair is intense.
and that bed is totally his, isn't it?
he's like, the package you can order when you go to one of those hedonistic resorts.
wow, i'm glad i'm not single.