By the end of 10th grade, Chloé and I were inseparable. She lived in a neighbouring town so we didn’t see each other often on weekends. That summer, I spent a lot of time with Matthieu, Janice, and my cousin Sally came up for a few weeks to visit her Aunt Maeve. I also met a really cute guy and we started dating that June. I couldn’t believe I had a boyfriend, Rick; he was a signer in a band and wrote original songs - inspired by from The Cure and I was IN LOVE!
When I met Rick, I noticed my hormones kicking-in to overdrive and I became absolutely obsessed with seeing Rick and spending every waking moment together just hanging out and holding hands. One of our favourite spots was laying down on the reservoir and just watching the clouds go by as we talked, listened to songs on a shared Walkman, smoked cigarettes and drank slushies. He helped me feel very much at ease; he was easy to talk to, attended a different high school so him having a different circle of friends allowed me to feel a bit more self-confident when I was around him.
I remember our first date; he arrived in a taxi and as I was about to go meet him outside, Maeve held me back to force him to enter the house, thereby running up the meter. I had already explained we (Rick) was on a limited budget but she did not seem to care. She just wanted to give us a bit of a hard time in my opinion. Before leaving, Maeve made sure to tell me to order the lobster, instead I ordered the chicken. I was so impressed, Rick was dressed in a shirt and tie, had made reservations; and he knew how to use a knife and fork. The other adult patrons were watching us; smiling, probably remembering their own youthful first dates. I had an amazing time. Rick took me home by taxi, kissed me goodnight and I went inside. Of course both Jack and Maeve thought he was a loser after hearing his last name saying his family are a bunch of degenerates, and told me that ‘distance makes the heart grow fonder’ - I was only allowed to see Rick once every two to three weeks now. What they did not know would not hurt them.
I worked anywhere from three to four part time jobs between 10th and 13th (AOC) grade; before my shift at the clothing store, I would often hang out with Rick in his basement while he serenaded me with his newest teen angst song. In my heart of hearts, I knew he and I would end up just like Robert and Mary Smith. I wanted to be whisked away and elope like Romeo and Juliet. Escape my life. We dreamed of running off and getting married. He proposed as a ‘pre-proposal’ and I hurriedly accepted. To celebrate our pre-engagement he proposed having sex. I was super excited to replace old memories with completely new ones and I was all in. Let’s do it. He advised me that he’d taken his last girlfriend’s virginity and that she’d bled so that I should expect that, but he’d be wearing a condom. I told him I wasn’t technically a virgin so I doubted I’d be bleeding. When he got on top of me I couldn’t breath anymore, I felt like I was being suffocated and I was deeply confused. How could I say no? How do you say no? Like….. am I allowed to say I don’t want to anymore? I suddenly remembered the gynecologist saying I had a lot of scar tissue and my first time (next time) would likely hurt. This hurt more than I was expecting and I couldn’t change my mind. That’s rude right? I am not a cock tease. I had just said yes and I wasn’t backing out now, he might dump me. I bit the sofa cushion and waited until he was done. I went to the bathroom to see if I had bled, no, I had not, but I was sore, got dressed, straightened my hair, said goodbye, hopped on the Town bus and went to work at the clothes store at the mall. Huh, sex was definitely not that great and I didn’t understand the big hoopla.
During the summer, Chloé started coming over on the occasional weekend to sleep over and hang out with me at the beach. At the time, my bedroom window was right outside the pizzeria's oven fan so I used to pick up panzerottis from the next-door restaurant often. Chloé and I would sit on my bed eating pizza, ice cream, and drinking Pepsi while listening to Depeche Mode and The Cure moaning about our tragic lives. I felt as close to her as I did to my own sister. We had a great tan by the end of summer. I lived my best life. Maeve was sick or keeping to herself a lot and I chose to ignore her as much as possible.
Rick and I’s infatuation quickly dwindled after our first and only sexual encounter. I remember feeling like I needed to avoid him because I didn’t know how to say I didn’t want to have sex again. I didn’t think I was ready, but I also didn’t think my feelings mattered. Eventually he broke up with me and I was absolutely shattered. I listened to Sinead O’Connor’s Nothing Compares 2U on repeat for about 4 weeks straight. When I wasn’t working, I was locked in my room crying, wallowing in self pity, feeling shame for … no idea what reason. After my first week, Maeve picked up that something was ‘off’ and I admitted to her that Rick and I were over. We’d broken up. We were not meant to be. I believe she thought she was acting compassionate and empathetic, but it came across as condescending and as a “oh poor baby, your first heartbreak”, it felt like she placed me behind the glass at the Broken-hearted Zoo Club. I was definitely not comfortable and I was starting to panic and needed to get out from her embrace. I wanted to curl up in the fetal position on my bed and cry until I had to go to work.
Rather than let me grieve at my own pace, Maeve kept making me feel worse, like there was something wrong with me for being upset at my first break-up so I decided to date a rebound guy. And then another rebound guy. And another, and another. I see, this is what she meant, she didn’t want me to have a boyfriend, she wanted me to date. I don’t understand. In my world, teens have boyfriends, dating like this is how you get called names like, slut.
I wasn’t really able to ‘hold’ a boyfriend or have a boyfriend longer than maybe 3 months. I feel like I lost interest and just like a squirrel, I moved on. I don’t recall actually breaking up with anyone, just…letting them break up with me. I was never able to feel connected to anyone I dated. I enjoyed kissing and holding hands… and as soon as we’d move on to having sex, I decided I was done with that and I’d move on.
Deep down, I was always lonely even in my close friend relationships - except with Chloé. My home life set me up to feel like I was a burden and that my feelings did not matter so I did not share deep feelings with any of my friends. We mostly talked about music, school, movies, the mall, and hung out. We were just your average, typical self-centered teens just trying to figure out where we belonged. Chloé was my perfect puzzle piece.
In the fall of grade 11, my mother gifted me with driving lessons through a reputable driving school in town. My mother insisted my independence was top priority and that having my driver’s license would open a lot of opportunities for me. I was thrilled! I did the in-class and studiously did all my in-car lessons. I had not considered that my father would not approve and I was unaware he would refuse to allow me the use of his vehicle for the test. In fairness, he only permitted me to drive his massive gas guzzler once… he took me to the busiest plaza with the busiest grocery store in town the day before Easter Sunday. As soon as I got behind the wheel, I adjusted my mirrors, tried to see over the massive hood if there were pedestrians or vehicles when he started to yell at me to, "Hurry up and just go and never mind everyone else, they'll get out of the way." I was a basket case by the time I got home. Needless to say he refused to lend me his vehicle for my scheduled test and I borrowed Léa’s. I failed. I failed a second time and gave up on that pipe dream. I had no vehicle with which to even earn a valid driver’s licence.
Near the end of 11th grade, Chloé announced her family would be moving out-of- province at the end of the school year. I was shattered all over again. I tried to make the best of our time remaining, but I knew I’d never make another friend ever and my high school years were going to be awful. My best friend was abandoning me. Fortunately, I got on really well with one of the basket players on the high school team and he and I became fused at the hip. It was awesome having a male perspective as a friend in my life. He was like a brother that I never knew I needed and I never had. He gave me true and honest advice. I loved him with all my heart.
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