Part 4

Dear Friends and Gentle Readers,

     I know that I've been going on about being more positive around here, but that's not really being authentic. I have been having a hard time emotionally, and it's really not in me to thing of pleasant or informative things to write about. Thankfully, the name of this blog is "First Person Narrative" and as such, I feel that I am able to forego actual blog posts for a while and just share some of my writing with you. 

     In March, I shared with you an excerpt from a larger essay I wrote about going home and visiting the cemetery. Over the next two weeks, while I do some serious self-care, I am going to share the rest of this story with you. I hope you enjoy it. 

xo,

     Uranium J

Click here to read the first part of the essay.
Click here for Part 2.
Click here for Part 3.

Part 4

 He said that he couldn’t believe that I had never been kissed before. 

That was in December of 1997. Everyone was going to see Titanic and “My Heart Will Go On” was everyone’s favorite song. We were outside of the bathrooms that are no longer standing in Eva Lyon park under a flickering streetlamp. My best friend Heather and her boyfriend George were on the other side, most likely making out. That’s what people did, after all. 

It was cold. I don’t remember a winter that cold since. He was gorgeous. I had Elton John’s newest single “Something about the Way You Look Tonight” running through my head the whole time, because he was beautiful that night – all blue eyes and dark hair (in that 90s style that looked so good on Christian Slater in “Untamed Heart”) and he smelled like heaven. 

I don’t know what the hell he smelled like – I’ve never been able to identify the scent in all these years – I’ve begun to wonder if it was just raw pheromones or something – but anytime I catch the hint of it in the air I am a good as done for. If you are interested in getting me into bed, let me smell that and I’m all yours. I know that my husband would love to have that magical potion at his disposal, but it’s a mystery even to me. 

I was the luckiest girl in the 6th grade so I thought and I couldn’t wait for Monday to roll around so I could tell all those preppy bitches at school what I had been up to over the weekend. Oh? You’re going out with Andy, are you? Weh-heh-hell, I have a high school boyfriend. Eat shit and die, I am going home and watching Broken Arrow – that’s right – an R rated movie – and then I’m having phone sex with my boyfriend. Ciao bitches! 

Yeah that worked out real well when I had to eat crow on Tuesday cus he broke up with me. 

I’m sure you can now see how I let that whole rose/cemetery/ stalker thing get a little out of hand. What’s sad is that there I was at very important funerals in my young life – my surrogate grandmother – and two weeks later my dad’s – thinking of how I was going to get out of this one horse town on the coattails of a guy who couldn’t be bothered with me unless I had lust on my lips and he had his dick in his hand. Adolescence and naivety might as well be the same word.