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July 7, 2008

As a freshman I was alittle too Madonna at a nightclub for my own good during the daylight. I love my dead grandfathers plaid wool pants and my grandmother’s hand-me-down beaded sweaters and lace socks. My hair is gigantic and curly and my eyeliner black and my lipstick red.

You are preppy but with a foul mouth which is a combination I still adore. You smoke and I smoke so we meet on the quad via mutual friends. The preppy boys who smoke pot and have rich parents and will get cars for their sixteenth birthdays. You don’t think I am weird and you are in love with James Dean. The second week we are friends you buy me a video tape of Rebel Without a Cause and order me to watch it, shocked that I never have. You have a bright red jacket like his and have a penchant for white tee-shirts with khakis.

You don’t amount to much because you move away. We have long soulful talks on the phone about life and whatnot and are the first boy who really wants to talk to me versus seeing how far you can get your hand down my pants. You want that too but are too shy to press the issue, so to speak.

I still have, somewhere, the comic you clipped out of the newspaper one sunday morning. You were so impressed with yourself that you mailed it to me versus giving it to me in class. I forget now who the comic strip was, but you scratched out the main characters name and wrote BUNNY, my name for you which the logic behind that completely escapes me now and the rest read,

“Bunny, do you think I am fat?” answer, (sigh) “No dear.” (sigh), “Seriously, do you think I am fat?” (sigh) “Yes. Yes I do.” furious anger, smacks character in the head, “See , I knew you were lying.” (sigh) “No dear, I am just telling you what you want to hear.”

He was clever for a 14 year old boy.

One Comment leave one →
  1. July 7, 2008 7:29 pm

    I love walking through your memories.

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