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Chapter 4

I remember the first day of 9th grade. I sat at the lunch table on the line separating two cliques. I had the choice to become friends with the nerds or the popular kids. I chose the nerds where I fit in most. If I had migrated to the other group I would be a much different person right now. I would have probably tried drinking and sex and who knows what else.

I made the right choice depending on how you look at it. But this group although with similar interests as myself was not the perfect fit. I wish I had found a clique with the same religious affiliations as I because this group steered me away from God.  

Ninth grade was an eventful year. I developed a crush on a popular boy from day one. I made steps to getting him interested in me. One of my closest friends was friends with him. I had another friend who gave him my phone number. But alas, that was not meant to be.

Other boys did come into the picture. First, a friend of a friend asked me out on Valentine’s Day. But that fell apart before it ever came together. Next another friend of the same friend (or rather an ex of hers). This lasted a bit longer (weeks not months) but didn’t go anywhere.
The most serious development this year happened on vacation at the conclusion of the school year.

This was the summer my identity became patched on me like my own personal Scarlet letter. I sat in a group of people. People that the only thing I had in common with was age. And I didn't say a word. Somehow I still managed to attract two men. By my looks alone. And while, I am incredibly disgusted by that, I needed to know I had something men were attracted to. Even something so shallow.

Anyway, it didn't pan out with either of them. We were in different stages of our lives. They wanted to party; I had overgrown that stage long ago. Or maybe I skipped that stage altogether. But my fondest memories that year were due to one of them. The few moments of physical contact I would feel until college. Moments I relived every day hoping to make new similar memories. How I loved to be close to men, or boys at that time. It was like I had a ultrasensitive sense of touch.  

I remember the last time I saw one of them. It was several years later. They were taking the same college class as I. By the second class I got up the courage to talk to him. Yes, talk. Even though we barely spoke before that. And by the next session, he had disappeared. As if my speaking to him made him drop off the face of the earth. I wish I knew why he dropped that class. Because to this day I think it was because of me.

The next three years of high school were completely uneventful. After all, I lived enough in one year to last me the whole four years. This period seems like a blur of tests and transient friendships.

I know I discovered in these years that I got along better with guys than with girls and their endless jealousies. I had a number of close guy friends that helped me survive these tumultuous years. I also had my studies.

As soon as I graduated, I was on to college…community college that is. Not because I wasn’t bright enough, I was just afraid to go away to school even though my dream was always to be Harvard-bound.  

After my two years at community college, I took a short break and that’s when everything changed.