|It's true and this story will tell you why|
The other day, a weird thing happened. It was a facebook message I got out of no where. A message from someone from my past. I wouldn’t say a man from my past because we had no romantic history whatsoever. It was a guy I knew from high school that I will call Jake. We worked in the same supermarket bagging groceries as teenagers.
Jake attended the school at the district next door to ours. He was a pretty average looking, nondescript kind of guy. From what I gathered, Jake was an average student too, and I think he ended up at some sort of state school and majored in something not so spectacular, practical, and vague like business. We were friendly but not friends. Jake and I talked, but it’s not like we ever hang out outside of work.
Jake’s dad, Mr. Pines, was a store manager. Our store had several different departments. One was the front end. Then there was the deli. We cannot forget hot foods. And then there were the butchers. Lest we not forget video and stock. Oh I did. I forgot floral. Anyway, I think his dad managed stock. He was a nice guy as I remember and a little high strung. Prior to me leaving he actually had a minor heart attack.
But Mr. Pine was a good guy. At the supermarket where we worked, we had a sort of deal with a local group home and hired several of their residence. One young woman, Sally, was learning disabled and had a tinge of OCD. She was obsessed with doing go backs, aka putting items back on the shelf that people decided not to get at the register. Sally also told each customer what she put in each bag and would yell at other baggers when they put more than 5 items in a bag. Five was her limit, and there could be no more. Sally would count out loud, “1,2,3,4,5……” It drove everyone crazy, and front end managers would want to get rid of her. Mr. Pines, always stuck up for her though. Despite the fact she was hard to love, he knew she wasn’t right.
Another mentally disabled man, Steve, would often refer to himself as Donald Duck and would demand others did so. Whenever he felt the urge, Steve would quack at customers, and knowing he was “special” as they diplomatically pitched, they laughed it off. However, where Steve became troublesome was when he threated to get a bomb and blow up the store. Steve lived in a group home for those with special needs, there was no way he would have the means let alone ability to make this happen. But this was a terroristic threat, and it had to be taken seriously nonetheless since it was indeed post 9/11.
The bosses wanted to fire Steve, but he was simply suspended. This was largely in part to Mr. Pines who insisted Steve was who he was and that had to be taken into account. Afterwards, Steve was moved to stocking shelves at the suggestion of Mr. Pines. A job where he would not and could not interact with anyone.
One thing about Mr. Pines was he was extremely high strung, and had every right to be. We had a record number of idiot teens working the job. One Vincent Clamente, would smoke weed on the job instead of doing carts. Mr. Pines notoriously took his weed, threw it in the garbage, and told Vincent never to return. Thank God, we all hated that asshole.
Mr. Pines would yell at some of the idiots we worked with and was also a heavy smoker. Being high strung and smoking a pack a day caught up with him and eventually he had a heart attack. These are the days of our lives.
In any event, Jake’s school district was next to mine. His high school was half the size of ours. We knew some of the same people, mainly because I had a brief childhood stint as an ice skater and did shows at a local summer theatre for children in the park.
Jake’s home town was the notorious place where my former classmates drank to the point of black out. It’s where the Paulo’s threw the “parents out of town” parties and then our kids scooted out before their local law enforcement who made Barney Fife look like he had it going on showed up. It also had groves where kids got into drugs and in each other’s pants. And it had parking lots where some brutal fights occurred. Alas, or as my mom says, “Too much leisure time.”
One time Jake and I bonded was in regards to our co-worker Don. Oh yes, Don. Or Don Juan as he came to be termed by the guys working front end. Don was no more than 21, and worked in hot foods. Barely 5’7” and having sandy blonde hair, Don fancied himself a ladies man. Desperate to get laid, Don cast his net and wide. I would say he was dragging the dollar bill through the trailer park but that would mean Don was somewhat selective. To be hit on by Don, you required a pulse and nothing more.
|A man who recognized me from television took this photo. Don would have so hit on her.|
|But I shouldn't be too proud, Don hit on that too. It's what we used to say he would screw but a little fucked up if you keep reading. Oh irony, you are a bitch.|
At the time, Don was allegedly having a regular sexual fling a ding with a woman who worked in the bakery. Mind you this woman who was “married and in her 30s” was never produced. It was Don’s story and he was sticking to it. Whenever Don would talk about his regular piece of action, Jake and I would exchange a look of knowing, knowing that she was a better piece of fiction than JD Salinger could ever write. Of course, real or imagined, this regular action was not enough for Don. So he kept on hunting, and with absolutely no success.
Don hit on me once. It was around the time everyone was beginning to suspect his conquest was named Palmela and located on his right hand. I was doing some AP European History homework, and Don approached, ready for action. He asked what I liked to do for fun and I knew what was coming. So I told Don I liked to study and I was focused on getting into college, focused on my future. I told Don my education and future came first, men second. Don was stunned not knowing what to do with this information, and stunned that he was shot down again.
“That is a point of view that is way too liberated for me.” Don announced and walked away. Granted, I think he wanted me to pull down his pants and go down on him right there, but that is not the way things typically worked. Alas, Don could dream, right? Jake and I looked at each other and laughed. Don……
Either way, a week later Don was dead. Apparently, he had been struggling with drugs for some time, specifically heroin. The poor thing had been in and out of rehab for the past 2 years. He had been clean until his overdose. Like so many addicts wanting recovery but not being able to get the solution, Don tried to fill the space with something else. That something else was women. What a bad something else, especially since he had no luck in that department. Plus from what I heard his family life was pretty horrific anyway.
Still, it gave me shivers that he hit on me and he was dead. There is a part of me that wants to make a joke that just as there are “lady killers” I’m a “man killer.” Don was so cheesy he would probably laugh too. But alas, it’s kind of disrespectful to people who have lost someone as a result of active addiction.
I was at the job a little after Don’s passing. It was more or less because I had to get set to apply for colleges, and the process was quite detailed. There were the auditions, essays, applications, and all else in between. I ultimately ended up getting accepted to and attending NYU. Shortly after getting accepted to college, my mom got a job at a local health club as the aquatics director, and I came to work as one of her lifeguards and ultimately as a water aerobics instructor.
|Shortly before getting into NYU with Sweetie Pie. She has been with me a long time and through a great many adventures.|
Then I left for college and worked at the health club between semesters. Either way, I didn’t return to the supermarket and lost track of Jake.
Of course life happens as it always inevitably does, and social media makes the world a tad smaller. Several years ago I got a request from Jake and took it. Why not? From there we never said much to each other.
However, that is until the other day.
Out of nowhere I got a message from Jake. He told me I looked like I hadn’t aged since high school. While I am an eternal Princess Pan chasing the never ending rainbow of my pipe dream, I am well aware that time has passed. Old school friends are married and have kids. My own sister is even set to walk down the aisle. While it seems like yesterday we were all wearing mom jeans and scrunchies, I am know yesterday's gone with the wind.
On the same token, I have no desire for marriage and children really at this point. I’m happily single. I was engaged and that ended badly, very badly. Then there have been several guys I talked about getting married with. It didn’t happen and each time it has been for the best, and each time I went through a phase of happy before wanting to run towards my freedom. I love performing for children, and I love children in general. They are sacred beings. But being a mom is a different ball game entirely. Plus I love my being my own woman, a woman who is not forced to serve a man.
I do not envy the married.
I do not envy the married.
Jake told me I looked hotter than I did in high school. Now that’s funny. Granted, I was kind of a mopette in high school. My makeup always looked like I was a drag queen who met with an unfortunate hail storm. Not to mention I was kind of chunky. You see, I had been a gymnast as a kid but got injured. Then I tried the whole diving thing but never got used to entering head first and kinda sucked at it anyway. I even toyed with the idea of being a circus acrobat for a minute. But when I fell into the whole performing/writing thing, I cut down on the physical activity sports gave. So I had a little junk in my trunk. Translated, it wasn’t hard for me to be “hotter” than I was in high school.
I laughed it off. Jake was always a nice dude. He mentioned he lived in Miami. Apparently his family went after his dad’s heart attack and he followed. Jake mentioned he was at the beach whenever possible, which made me somewhat envious. In a short minute, Jake followed this by informing me I had a body made for a beach. If I didn’t know any better, I had a feeling he was channeling Don’s dead spirit for terrible pick up lines. Actually, Don’s were usually more successful, and Don always struck out.
|They thought I had a bikini body in Guatemala. Perhaps this is where Jake got the idea......or not.|
Then Jake asked if I had ever been to a nude beach. I told him no. So Jake decided to invite me if I ever came to Florida. Taking it a step further, Jake asked me what my body would look like at a nude beach. Okay, it was official. Don, even dead, probably had more game than Jake.
Jake asked me what my body would look like at a nude beach. I told him to use his imagination. Jake then told me it would be like high school. He would show me his if I would how him mine. Now I was officially speechless.
Just curious to see what he was up to, I went to Jake’s facebook page. He was married with two kids. Jake’s wife wasn’t terribly beautiful, but she wasn’t ugly either. While she wasn’t a knock out, she was probably someone who didn’t have time to doll up because she was busy raising two kids as her moron husband was trying to see if he still had it on facebook. Despite my beliefs about monogamy being outdated, I had a feeling she would disagree with me. So much so that if this continued, I would get a nasty message from her and rightfully so.
Plus she was minding her own business. Boys will be boys, and it was apparent her husband had not matured since high school. Yeah, he probably still loved her but wanted to scratch an itch. He was probably in heat, feeling like he was getting old, and probably having such less sex because it was starting to produce kids. I am well aware men were created solely to cat around, it’s biology. So when I am with a dude, I tell him I know he’s gonna fuck around. But just be careful, don’t bring her or goodies home, and don’t tell me about it. Either way, she probably wasn’t as evolved as I was when it came to these things, and this was probably going to devastate her. While I am about being revolutionary in that sense, I am not about hurting other people who don’t deserve to be hurt.
If only men would adopt this principal, especially in being so cavalier about their exploits. But alas, when I got home I saw he had blocked me. WTF?! Where does this moron get off on blocking me?! What did I do?
|Jake after his wife found out we had been talking.|
Then I knew exactly what happened. Jake, in his effort to get some pics for his spank bank, probably was not thinking with the right head and left his IM window open. His wife probably saw it, beat his ass, and made him block me. Jake, bored, sexually frustrated father of two’s fun is over. About now, he is probably taking residence in his backyard, and might be sleeping there until further notice. And maybe this isn’t Jake’s first infraction and he might be getting the burn notice.
Either way, Don is still the smoother of the two and his ass his dead. Still, it’s nice to know I am hotter than I was in high school, especially since as I mentioned I was a mopette chunkette. Did I mention that I do not envy the married?