This guy.

I was just protecting a friend, he got in over his head trying to shift to the shady side of business. Now someone had sent "This Guy" over to shake him down, or maybe even kill him. All I really knew about it was the panic that broke up my friend's voice over the phone. I met him out behind the mall, where a dense group of trees gave an illusion of dark forest, as long as you didn't listen to the cars whizzing by. He was supposed to meet "This Guy" there with a suitcase full of cash he didn't have. Between the two of us we decided it was best to meet this guy head on, take him out if we could. Sure "That Guy" could send some others to pick us off, but maybe he'd be nervous.
"This Guy" was supposedly pretty heavy, not in the weight sense, purely on reputation alone. He had a knife fetish and the people who'd seen him do his work weren't talking. We were there pretty early and "My friend" was twitching a little. He kept telling me how glad he was I was there which scared me a little. Somehow I'd earned a reputation too, but I didn't think a few fistfights earned as much respect as he was giving. Still I figured for the time being it wouldn't hurt. If "This Guy", who didn't know me, thought I might be something tougher I'd let him think that. I couldn't let him touch "My Friend", at least not if I was alive to stop it.
The only things I had going for me was my desperation, and the two colt pistols I had picked up at a pawn shop the day before. I spent all night cleaning and oiling and working those two guns. I test fired into a metal trash-can stuffed with blankets in my basement, so I knew they worked. Then I cleaned them and oiled them again, just to kill time. I couldn't sleep.
As the meet time got closer I gave "My Friend" the revolver, took off the safety for him so he wouldn't get nervous and forget. I tucked the other into my belt, flipping my shirt over it to hide it. I practiced getting it out a few time to make sure it wouldn't snag on anything. I really didn't like the feel of the gun against my stomach, I kept getting visions of my own guts spilling over my belt or a smoky bleeding hole in my leg.
When I was still a teenager I had collected knives, of all shapes and sizes, I never did anything with them, just kept them in a big box in my closet. To this day my family still gets me exotic or strange looking knives they find, usually in flea markets. I had a chrome handled butterfly knife in my toolbox so I got that out, a plan beginning to take shape. I didn't have a lot of hope it was going to work, but what else could I do?
"This Guy" walked onto the scene as casually as if he were picking up kids from tee-ball. He was wearing a tight white t-shirt and slacks under a loose fitting sports coat.
"Hi!" he said all cheerful and gave a little wave. He stopped a few paces from where I'd set myself. Two to three paces in front of Randy, and a little off to the side so I wasn't in "My Friend's" line of fire.
"I don't see any suitcase. Where's the money?" he had a high voice, a bit of an accent but I couldn't place it, maybe Italian, maybe Russian.
"I told "That Guy", I don't have any money. I did the one deal I'm not doing another. He got paid from the last time didn't he?" "My Friend" sounded Scared, but he didn't run. "This Guy" shook his head,slowly. His voice got cold, almost a hiss.
"I don't understand. You were supposed to have the money. In a case. For me." He edged forward a step, while he spoke, then another. I dropped one side of the butterfly knife so it swung open, and just left the blade and one handle hanging down. It was real discrete, didn't make a sound but the flash of the chrome caught his eye like I hoped it would.
"Don't creep up on me." I forced my voice to be low, threatening. His eyebrows raised slightly but he leaned back a bit. He moved his hand a little just enough to catch my eye and I saw he was holding a knife to, only his was not showy at all. The handle looked like smoky gray marble and the blade was all brushed steel, it barely seemed to catch the light. I tried not to swallow, he'd probably been holding it all along. Now I was sure "My Friend" and I were dead, he hadn't come just for money, his eyes were too cold.
"Alright," I said, raising my hand slowly letting the knife swing closed. "I've got the case up in my car here." I nodded back the way he'd come. I just needed him to be distracted for a second, then I was going to pull the colt semi from my pants and just start firing. I swear he was reading my mind, his lips twitched in what I had to assume was a smile and waved me on to lead the way.
"No way man." I said. "You start walking and we'll follow you." my legs were pillars of adrenaline jelly and I was almost too scared to try to walk, he must have seen my fear because he turned and started walking. "This Guy" probably figured I was too terrified of him to try anything, maybe he even thought we were really gonna pay him. He might have thought I only had the knife since I flashed it at him on purpose, but as soon as he turned away I pulled the pistol out and shot him right between the shoulder blades.
I was really close to him, I swear I felt the smoke and wind from the shot bounce off his back and brush past my hair. He flew forward a few feet landing half twisted around some scrub trees. I made myself walk up to him, he was lying down but he didn't seem dead. His body was moving a bit, his feet rubbing together lightly, his jaw working a little but only saliva came out. I didn't smell anything that could be his bowels releasing so I pointed at his head and looked away as I shot him in the head.
At least I meant to. Looking away must only work in movies, I missed shaving off a large part of his face. The bullet hit right under his sinus, there was a splintered mass of bone sticking out where his cheekbone used to be and I could see up under his eye the muscles twitching as his eyeball moved, his entire lower eyelid was gone as well as the whole side of his nose. He was making a groaning noise which was freaking me out.
I heard "My Friend" retch behind me, so he must have looked, but I smacked myself in the leg hard with the gun and clenched my teeth forcing the vomit down. This time I aimed carefully and put one bullet right behind his ear and another right behind his temple. There was a loud buzzing noise in my head that almost matched the gunshots. Everything looked a little fishbowled, blackening around the edges. I realized I wasn't breathing, but as soon as I sucked in a deep breath I almost fell over vomiting. The smell of the gunpowder and a rusty iron smell thickened in my throat. "My Friend" grabbed my arm and pulled me away from "This Guy's" corpse and we sort of shuffled, ran out of the trees.
It was pretty early morning and I didn't notice anyone standing around staring at us, but I could feel hundreds of eyes staring at me. My ears were still ringing from the shots and we tried to stay cool as I drove off. I tried to go slow but it was hard, we were both pretty adrenaline racked, and not thinking clearly. "My Friend" still had the revolver in his hand, at least he pulled it out to cover me I thought. I pointed at it
"Put that shit away man." He looked around wildly for a second, then caught on and shoved the pistol into his coat pocket.
"Is the safety on?" I felt I was shouting over the ringing in my ears, but he didn't say anything. He pulled the gun out again and carefully switched on the safety. He seemed calmer, focusing on something seemed to help calm him down.
He looked over at me, "Shit, you're all covered in blood." I flipped down the visor mirror and sure enough I was speckled like a painter but all over in red dots. He pulled an old t-shirt from the back seat and I tried to wipe up a little but it wasn't working while driving. I thought we should get a hotel room, one of the cheap prostitute rooms off the highway where we could clean up, but I didn't have any cash.
"You have any money? We could get a room and I could get all this blood washed off." He pulled out his wallet and started to check.
"Man, I should have taken his wallet, you know? We could have got some money out of this." I giggled a little, he looked at me worried but I reined it in. My whole body was still shaking like a leaf, and I could feel the edge of hysteria lurking close by.
" I took the money." In a low voice I barely heard him.
"What?"I was still thinking of that guy's wallet." When? You didn't have time."
I pulled up to a red light, but kept twitching for the gas, wanting to scream out of there and maybe leave the state.
"No. I mean, I took the money. You know, for "That Guy"." He was looking down at his hands, I suppressed the urge to smack him. "I didn't think he would send someone like "This Guy". He just a little prick."
"How much?"
"About a half mil." I was quiet for a while and finally he looked up at me, but by then I was smiling. I turned back onto the road, slouched down a little more comfortably in the seat.
"Cool."

A real friend.

Misty was the cutest girl I ever had any type of relations with. She was drop dead gorgeous and the only thing that kept her out of the cool kids group was her insane parents. One time the cops had to come pick up her dad, he had flipped out completely. She had run out of soap, and for the whole week had been using shampoo as soap. Shampoo was too expensive to waste that way, but she was too scared to ask for more soap, because every time she did he would yell at her for leaving the soap under the running shower water and wasting it. They had a townhouse in a mid level community, her mom drove a beamer, he drove a Lincoln, but they both seemed to hate having an extra mouth in the house. We never dated or had a "thing" we just started hanging together all the time, she said she liked the way I kissed and I loved the way she'd hang out with me doing anything, or nothing at all for hours. My friends were all jealous as hell because she was so beautiful. My exes that saw her got flames in their eyes and chewed on their tongues. She had a lot of sex before hanging out with me. She got a reputation of being a slut honestly and early, but when I met her she had just come off a boyfriend that was in jail for assaulting her. I created a comfort zone for her, even the times we made out I never pushed her for anything more than just some friendly groping. She used to start sobbing for no reason, and if I was there she buried her face on my chest and her whole body would just heave with the force of her crying. I couldn't imagine how terrible it was for her when someone wasn't there. Some days I was terrified to leave her alone, but she never told me a thing about why she cried. When she was done she'd wipe her eyes, give me a soft kiss and we'd go back to what we were doing. She found herself a boyfriend, ran away to Philadelphia to live with him for a few months before coming back. Turns out her whole family had started counseling and they were all on some kind of meds. She seemed stronger hearted, things were going pretty well for her. We didn't see much of each other, too many heavy embarrassing memories. A year or so later when I had a really messy break-up, I spent a few days by myself writing teenage angst filled poems then I called her up, she drove over to pick me up and we drove out to this little country fair in one of the small towns nearby. We smoked some pot and spent the night wandering among the carneys, just talking and smoking cigarettes. We spent a couple hours lounging in the front seat of her Father's Lincoln chainsmoking, reading poetry back and forth. We talked only about the new things that were going on, She was going back to school, her parents took her to Europe over the summer. She made me promise to not ever do anything permanent to myself over any girl ever. Then she dropped me off squeezed my hand then gave me a peck on the cheek and she drove off. I was standing there on the curb trying to figure out what the hell she had been talking about. I had never considered doing anything to myself, and for a long time I thought I had given her the wrong impression when I had called her. We never spoke after that, and I never saw her again. It was a couple years later before I added it up. It was summertime (August I think) she picked me up wearing a long sleeve coat that she never took off. I thought she had sprained her wrist or something because every time she used her left hand on the steering wheel she winced. Her new therapy with the family and the drugs she was on. It finally hit me one day and I stopped completely stunned I had missed it. I heard later she had 2 kids, and had moved back into her parents. She ran into one of my friends and asked about me but I had already moved out of state. I wrote her a letter about what I had done after that. She sent me a picture of her holding two cute baby boys. Long sleeves but a genuine smile.

Psycho Chick #3

Psycho chick 3 Heather was actually the first of the three. She was my first, and also the first of my best friend. Unfortunately she chose his first for him behind a local convenience store. It was undoubtedly awkward and stressful because he admitted later to not orgasming. My own experience with her was quite different. She was a depressed art student, who actually went to the art college in Philadelphia. She had all sorts of art trauma going on and despite it all I never saw, or bothered to ask about any of her artwork. After my friend she flirted with then screwed my older brothers good friend. He was just about to join the Army and right before he left they supposedly became engaged. The day after he left I was supposed to meat a casual (non sexual) girlfriend over at Heather's house. I got there early and we played Mario Bros on the tv for a while and finally decided the other girl wasn't coming. I was flirting, but not real seriously, the way I did with every girl I was around. I was a 16 year old virgin that had only ever kissed one girl since puberty, any girl seemed fair game to me. Heather was "different" she finally got tired of playing and stood up, turned to me at the doorway and said "You want to come upstairs and fuck me?" My actual reply after a moment of stunned silence was "Sure, why not" She giggled then, the only time I recall her doing that and replied "You get that offer a lot do you?" kind of sarcastically. I typical of my leather clad image shrugged and pulled out a cigarette on the way up to her room. Mostly to hide the tremendous pounding of my heart, and my awkward erection. I half thought she was kidding but followed her up to her bedroom. A sinister room, painted a dark purple with black branches twining over the walls, crowded with bottles and clothes and a large iron bed with canopy rods, but no curtains. The windows were painted black, and even back then I realized it was a really juvenile display. She was already naked on the bed she had a Renaissance body, slightly larger but all lush curves, probably the foundation for my current erotic tastes. I sat on the edge of the bed looking at her as I smoked my cigarette, I felt real close to losing control, and forced myself to remain calm. Finally she got impatient and almost tore my clothes off. The next day she called me over to help make some cookies to send to her fiance. Over the next month I was at her house every day, most times I took the bus straight to her house, for many days I didn't even go home at night, just sleeping over and heading out to school the next day. Word got around and plenty of people offered to kick my ass for me if Jay didn't kill me when he got back. I was in a really weird place though, every day I went there she would pour me a glass of booze, bourbon, whiskey, vodka. We'd go up to her room and hang out for hours watching movies and having sex. She tricked me into taking acid 2 or three times, only stopping the last time because I got out of control and she had to lock herself in the bathroom while I gibbered and screamed in the hallway. We never kissed though, she wouldn't because she was engaged. I was drunk all the time, or on drugs and her family only served to make the entire scene more unreal. The first time I ate dinner at her house her mother, who previously had had several nervous breakdowns made 5 pounds of mashed potatoes. She took her dinner with a handful of pills that she took between bites of the potatoes. I had a large glass of vodka straight, but didn't mind I was already wasted. Her father shook my hand then went and sat in the garage eating dinner alone. I wasn't infatuated with her or in love with her, we barely talked except about the movies we watched, I used to sit there and glare at her while I wrote poetry. She glared back and occasionally would try to punch me in the face, for no apparent reason. We got into screaming matches and threatened each other with death, but she never asked me to leave,and we kept having sex all the time. Finally one day she seemed to really lose it, I showed up and she took me into the bathroom showed me a gloppy red thing in the toilet and told me it was her baby from my brothers friend, that she had miscarried. She kept it there to show anyone who doubted she had been pregnant. I still don't know if that was true or not, but it was finally too much for me. I called her a crazy bitch and tried to leave. She tried to stab me with a knife that ironically I had given her. I took the knife from her pushed her to the floor and threw the knife into her bedroom door where it stuck in a full 2 inches. I never went back to her house, retreated into my group of friends who were actually relieved to see me acting normal again. When her "fiance" came home from boot camp he called me, thanked me for having a reason to break up with her. This entire period of time I was trapped in a bleakness. All my innocence was stripped from me, and even now looking back it feels like her entire family was just playing with me, keeping me there. Succubi or vampires, or soul stealers, or just crazy, but when I left them, I actually became myself again. I was shy around girls, I went back to youth group and even talked to a nun about the stain on my soul. Not so much for having sex with an engaged pregnant woman, but for how close I felt I came to possibly hurting or killing her. I was disgusted with myself with how fast I had fallen, I was a little scared to have sex again until Tiara, she possibly was the last victim of Heather. Heather ended up married and having a kid with some junky, he ended up with aids and the two moved out of the state, sometime after I had finished high school.

Respect

We were just bored and poor in a town of people with too much money we were brought together by the fact that our parents had mortgaged everything to get us into such a town. So our futures would be brighter as we rubbed shoulders with sons and daughters of doctors, lawyers and politicians. It doesn't rub off though, and it's impossible to connect with that closed society. So I stuck close by my friends when I could, but it seemed we never even got to share a class. I was in the 4th grade the first time someone noticed my shoes were a year or two out of fashion. It took until high school not to be noticed for wearing everything 2 years past it's time. In the summer before the sixth grade I finally got my parents to buy a pair of "British Knights" high top sneakers for me. The price being affordable should have been a sign. First day of school that year I show up with the shoes unlaced halfway and pulled tight, the oversized tongue hanging out in perfect mimicry of the cool way to wear them. Seems everyone switched back to adidas over the summer or nike, I didn't care after that, but that first day I was in 2 fights, I cried on the bus ride home, with a black eye and a swollen lip. Bad enough to be picked on for my "burger King" shoes, but for the year I was the crybaby. "what's the matter Alan you going to cry" followed me off the bus every day for years. Truth be told I'd taken worse beatings from friends, from my father, but I was so certain at the time I would click into the cool crowd. That I wouldn't have to spend all my time dodging the bullies, when my illusion broke that first day of the sixth grade I saw the whole year in ruins before me. That year at first all the guys got bored beating on me, as they all started their growth spurts on the road to high school it just accentuated that I was almost 2 years younger than most in my class. I was a midget among giants, a midget with a quick mouth that always landed me in trouble. Imagine woody allen hanging with a group of linebackers. They never understood what I was saying, but could hurt me with no effort. I thought it was good until the first girl challenged me to a fight. She called me out, a giggling group of already dating preteens backing her up. I was stunned, I scornfully returned I wasn't going to fight a girl and she punched me right in the cheek. I backed up a little but she was like a wolf smelling blood and followed tiny little fists flying at me, I could barely feel them, all I heard was the laughing. I was bright red and flushed with shame and embarrassment. I hated the people watching me, laughing at me, and she wouldn't stop. She grabbed a handful of my hair and tried to kick me in the groin, but I finally reacted, grabbed her wrist pushed her away from me. The guys jumped in to rescue her, like I knew they were going to. I had hoped if she got tired of swinging, they'd go away. They held me down, encouraged her, "Go ahead kick his ass. Kick him in the balls" I probably had tears rolling down my face. I cursed like a sailor, thrashing back and forth, way to weak to pull away. She might have felt bad or sickened, or just tired but she didn't kick me. She walked away and the guys had a no restraint against kicking me anywhere. Surprising how short this could be, how little time elapsed as a teacher finally showed up as I was pulling myself off the ground. Sometimes I hated the teachers worse than anyone, he tried to help me stand I was embarrassed enough, humiliated enough for one day and there were still a crowd of kids standing around watching for more blood, more tears to call me on. "Get the fuck off me!" and I struggled away from the teacher only to be grabbed firmly this time and almost frog-marched to the principle's office. How fat he was, with a big desk I stared over too many times. Sometimes he felt bad for me, told me I should avoid the locker room, the bathrooms between classes. Not this time. This time his words "He was trying to help you. It's not fair of you to abuse him, curse at him when he's trying to help you." One weeks detention writing the definition of the word respect over and over again. I learned my lesson. Respect: A feeling of appreciative, often deferential regard; esteem. A particular aspect, feature, or detail. To relate or refer to; concern.

Psycho chick #2

Psycho chick # 2M was a farmers daughter, from the outskirts of town, she was a bit chunky and awkward. I spent a night hanging at the bowling alley with my friends hitting on one of her friends who kept trying to get me to talk to M. I was a little under the influence and as the night wore on I became more and more until I ended up making out with her for quite a while at the end of the night. This wasn't my first hookup ever so I didn't think much of what I could remember, and never bothered to follow up with her. Figuring it was a dead issue was a large mistake. She started showing up at parties that I went to. Always in the background, waiting around the edges, her friend starting dating one of my friends so she always got invited. At the end of one torrid night of adolescent binge drinking she led me into a bedroom and stripped me down on the waterbed, I was starting to spin and felt the pre- vomit swelling feeling and tried to get up, but she held me down and wouldn't let me up, we were wrestling on the waterbed, fortunately the adrenaline quelled the imminent expectoration, and I managed to fight her off. I tried grabbing at my clothes and she started slapping and kicking me screaming " No No I won't let you leave."She was really hysterical angry, and crying, all the while trying to drag me into bed. I lurched out of the door into the party, buck naked with long scratch marks all over my chest and arms. Typical headbanger party I was greeted with cheers and whistles until a "good" friend noticed my swelling lip and the scratches on my face. I was just mumbling comments like. "get that fucking bitch away man, she's nuts" He gave me a throw blanket to cover up and went in to get my clothes but when she saw him coming she bolted. She tore out of the house with my jeans shirt and leather jacket, the last being a social felony in our circle. I was a bit irrational when I found out it was gone, and was restrained by two guys from running out and chasing her down. One of the girls at the party came up with a pair of sweatpants and we loaded up a few cars and ran out to the usual hang outs searching. We saw her car at the bowling alley, all my gear was in the back seat. Two headbanger chicks from our set went in and dragged her out by her hair. By now all the guys were beginning to feel bad for her. She had some problems, but the girls were all fired up, and slapped her around a little. The next weekend a truckload of rednecks caught up to me and my friend walking downtown, M's brothers. They were talking pretty tough, but I couldn't tell if they were going to get serious or not so I grabbed the one closest to me and swung him around by his coat, slamming him into the truck. The other guys started twitching like they were going to jump in but were uncertain. I kicked the guy on the ground once or twice, and noticed my bud had got between the others and me, but they looked more scared than anything, they were young, younger than I thought at first the guy on the ground was probably the only one old enough to even drive. I let him up and they took off never to be heard from again. I cannot say the same for her. She was in full out stalker mode now. I ignored her as best I could, the same two headbanger chicks must have chased her out of the bowling alley 2 more times. The final straw, one night her friend came running in saying she was killing herself out in the parking lot. We went out to see what was up, she was sitting there on the ground scratching at her wrist with a piece of broken glass. I actually laughed, and cheered her on. I told her that if she managed to kill herself I would finally have some respect for her. We didn't see her for a couple weeks, we wondered the entire time if she had actually gone and done herself in, but up she popped at another party, this time some guy in tow. They practically had sex on the sofa in a friends living room, mid party. She kept trying to shoot me significant glances, but we were all laughing at her. Finally headbanger chicks grabbed her and dragged her outside. The guy tried to hang a little but was too young, and we wouldn't let him drink. She was also involved in the fistfight later with Tiara See "Psycho chick #1", but beyond that finally left me alone.

Psycho Chick #1

Throughout high school I dated 3 severely psychotic chicks. The first I'll call her Tiara was luscious Italian, she had wide hips, small chest but a face that could make heaven moan. We dated successfully for about 3 months went back and forth for 3 more months. I met her officially at a youth group weekend gathering, I was the only bad boy in the group, as my other leather wearing friends couldn't make it. They never understood why I always went on any weekend trip the church planned, I mean any, but it was pretty simple. During the time I actually lived with my parents I couldn't stand being at home, weekends were horrible, angry, unpleasant, etc.. When I had moved out and lived with my bud Randy I went because on every trip I had some sort of sexual encounter with a female. I was church chick magnet. Long haired or mohawked, black leather jacket, combat boots severe disregard for any authority.. Basically perfect weapon for a semi religious girl to use in her teen war for independence from their parents. Back to Tiara. I was definitely a weapon at first. I was the first non Italian boy she brought home. Her parents hated me instantly, but let her talk to me because they knew me from church. One thing they didn't know I wasn't catholic. I just went to that church because the Lutheran pastor "Pastor Dave" didn't get along with me. I'll go into that later. So we met at this outing, I was flirting with every girl there and it was one of those instances where the chick decides it. She walked up to me and said "Let me see your jacket" I of course handed it over, she put it on right in front of 3 other girls I was talking to. I didn't even realize she had just claimed me, but every time I started talking to another girl the rest of the weekend, even about church related stuff she flounced up wearing my jacket. Which I have to say was sexy. She took me to a family party for the forth of July in a little suburban area south of Newark, but still in the city. It was out of the movies with all the crazy Italians there. I was a dumb kid though, and never had a chance there, I was targeted by a line of cousins, uncles, aunts and just sent whirling. I'd never been to such a large family gathering though and was really nervous, and really out of place. Tiara paraded me around smiling at all the sinister looks shot her way (my way) after one of her uncles threatened to "kneecap me with a shotgun full of rocksalt" if I ever disrespected her I was a trembling mess. I was just barely 16 junior in high school, and I utterly believed him. I was getting my first dose ever of ulcer causing stress and couldn't eat a thing. Suddenly I was the antichrist and half the people there must have made a point to ask me if I didn't like their cooking. I ended up eating a plateful or two to ease the crowd, then snuck off to the bathroom and threw it all up. Thankfully her mom took pity on me after that for a little while and she lightened up. We could only hang out together during youth group, or after school and mostly spent all our times making out, playing finger games, etc.. (love that etc.. Today) She pretended she wasn't a virgin, I was a fool to believe her, but she was my 2nd and I was insanely horny all the time. It all crashed down though due to a short movie. We went to a chaperoned movie with my mom and her lover, but when we got to the theatre I took her to see "The Lion King" whilst mommy dearest went to go see some more adult movie. Our movie ended almost 45 minutes earlier than theirs (why do you think I picked it) and we opted to wait in the van. My mothers car was a white Chevy short schoolbus with bench seats for 15 people and dark tinted windows. So we made out heavily for the entire time. My mother knocked on the window as she walked up and we pulled ourselves into shape pretty quickly. My mom's lover took one look at us and busted out laughing. Tiara had a monster hickey right below her left earlobe. I had never given a girl one before, and to this day do not remember doing it, but there it was. My mom and friend wanted to hide it with makeup, but Tiara told them not to worry she'd be fine. Let the battle begin!! Charge!! Oh she won some points from her parents that day, I wasn't allowed to see her, speak to her step near her lawn. Twice her father ran me off the road with his car while I was biking around town. Her "family" made assorted threats at me, but we still hung out in youth group and school. We had sex in my bedroom one afternoon. I still didn't realize she was inexperienced, and was rough on her. My first had been an older chick just out for fun, so I had no idea how to be romantic and tender. She was all game though, we used up all three condoms I had and like a stud I sat up in the bed and lit a cigarette. That is of course when she told me she had been a virgin. Stupid Girl.. I'm still mad about that. I'd like to think I would have been nicer to her, better, gentler. I walked her home with her crying the whole way because she hurt so much. I went over to my friend eric's house that afternoon and cried myself, very distraught. I felt evil like hitler. He blew it off said it's her fault for not telling blah blah.. It didn't help so I went to talk to the Nun who ran our youth group. Sister Robin was pretty cool, gave me this advice "pray more fuck less and for the love of God do not go near that girl's family again without a wedding ring." We always tried to get her to swear, sort of a running joke. I was the only one to ever do it as far as I know and I couldn't tell anyone..Ha We broke up then, she was scared of me a little. She told half her girlfriends I was so smooth and practiced about it (the smoking I think) that pretty soon all her friends though I was a man-slut. The other half ( including the youth group girls) she told that I was just huge and hurt her badly. A little ego stroke, but she couldn't tell them she had lied about not being a virgin. Several times in group she had mentioned her "sexual encounters" before me, and I didn't blow her cover. We got back together almost every other day fought broke up. She started hanging out with a guy I worked with at Pizza Hut and when I found out I shoved him onto the oven conveyor belt and held him there until he was close enough o the flames some of his hair shriveled. She couldn't get a guy to talk to her after that so we started dating seriously again. She was just playing though, we went to some youth encounter thing and right when my mother showed up to pick us up She started deep tonguing with some hippy surfer dude. I was seriously in love with her at the time, blew up punched the bus door doing some serious damage, then sat in the back crying like a little girl all the way home. She sat stiffly up front (ha should have left her there, but Mom wouldn't do that) Mom did give her the evil eye the whole way, and she practically flew out of the car when we got to her house. She tried to make up to me the next day and I went out and bought her six long stem red roses. I hid on the floor of my friends car while he delivered them. Her mom put them on a vase on her dining room table. I sent her a note separately, something about the 6 months we were together. The next day I sent her one dried black rose the same way, except a put a note in it about how she had taken all the beauty in the world and turned it into something distorted and dying. Her mother actually kept that note for her. Hoped it would break her will when it came to dating non Italian boys. I took the next couple days off from school. Tiara couldn't catch a break my friends were loyal, and cruel. They kept getting on the school intercom dedicating two songs to her many times during the day for a week, Queen's "Fat Bottom Girls"(she was pretty hippy), Ugly Kid Joe's "(I hate)Everything about You" The called me gloating every day, and she called me in tears everyday. The heavy metal girls I hung with punched her in the hallways and she was terrified to go into the locker room. It was funny in a really sick way. I tried to get my friends to stop, back then I wasn't cruel, just broken hearted. A friend Dan said,"we understand you have feelings for her and don't want to hurt her, but we're your friends, so we'll take care of this for you." Funny guy..They got her to quit calling me after that, for a little while at least. She turned psycho like two months later. Calling my house every day, showing up wherever I went. She stalked me for over a year, through 2 or 3 other girlfriends, then stopped. Then at a party she and the two other psycho exes got into a fistfight about me. I dragged her out of the fight and took her up the road, she had too pretty a face to be brawling. I think I kissed her a little, but I was drunk, and we didn't really talk after that. She dropped off the scene, stopped going to youth group, went to a different school. She ended up dating my friend Eric, she told him I had a really small dick. Ha! didn't bother me a bit. Not even a little bit. (groan)I could almost write a book about her, but I'm done for now, the other two psycho chicks will have to wait, along with the stories of the stalking all three did.