On Heartbreak

[ltuthill92]

On Heartbreak

 

 

When was the first time you discovered you were revolting? That the very presence of yourself, or the mere mention of your name, repelled people around you away? It was no mystery to me that by the time I was sixteen years old, this was reality for me. I had girlfriends up until this point, each one ending in heartbreak one way or another. What thoughts, culminating with every traumatic experience one has as they grow older, causes us to form our own philosophies? Forgive me, I traverse off topic, yet I thought I would get that last bit down as well.

 

I suppose the first time I felt revolting and repelling, that I can remember, was actually when I was eighteen, though there are plenty of times in the past that I would say it was apparent. I can’t remember them very much anymore, but this one moment stands out among others. My school hosted a popular high school tradition in May, which we collectively have named prom. I had asked a stunning, out of my league girl to prom, to which she had accepted with battering eyes and blushed cheeks. It was no question in my mind that this prom would be one to remember, another great moment to pour my heart into, to really look forward to. We didn’t talk much about prom until it drew closer, to which we discussed popular prom clichés such as limousines, flower colors, and coordinating apparels. I admired her take on each situation. She downright refused a limo, which was cost effective for me, and asked for a very simple flower. And so the school days dragged on, and my mind would constantly wander to this infamous night to come.

 

The day came, much quicker than I would have hoped now thinking back. I had gotten myself a three buttoned Kelvin Kline tuxedo with a basic black skinny tie and no vest. I reluctantly shop lifted a pair of aviator shades from a value store, and picked up a rather fancy pink flower attached to a bracelet of pearls. We congregated at her friend’s house for pictures, however I arrived earlier then she had. She entered in a stunning tight black dress, a dark colored short jacket over the top. Her sexy frame was inviting to me, but I had always been a gentleman when addressing a lady’s apparel. She glanced at me from in the kitchen, into the living room, giving an “awh” followed closesly by “you look handsome.” I smiled. Always good to hear. We drove in her friends minivan to another home where the entire class was meeting to take pictures, and upon seeing her classroom friends, took her leave away from me to greet them. I thought little of it and did the same. Everyone was excited, and my friends in very high spirits. We formed up for pictures, with each one brought us closely entwined with one another. There was no modesty, we had both been down this road before, and we easily hung off one another for the photo op. When it was done we split off again, until it was time to leave.

 

The ride to prom was spread thin with occasional conversation, though she was mostly quiet in her chatter. I spoke freely with a couple who rode in the back, two very good friends of mine. Myself and my date had both brought with us alcohol. She carried a large bottle of Sky Vodka, and I myself toted a ten dollar bottle of Jack Daniels. Neither of us wanted to be sober for this, and we took sips on the way. Upon arriving at the hotel to which our prom was held, we had time to walk around the town before things began. She confidently spoke of how this town was like a second home to her, liberal and free, and brimming with stoners and freedom fighters. I admired the idea, and took in the atmosphere with a grain of salt as our group moved about the town dressed in our formal wear. When all was said and done, we made our way back to the hotel, ready to enter fashionably late.

 

I stuck my elbow out for her to take, which she did with confidence and together we strolled in. My heart was an overfilled waterskin, hanging deep into my stomach as I walked in with this gorgeous girl. I wasn’t in love, but I did like her quite a bit, and was on the hopes that myself and her may grow closer during this event. My previous girlfriend had been a similar deal, as I accompanied her to a prom the year prior, as a junior. I was enthralled by her already, and could not wait to spend the evening with her. We awkwardly picked our table, and then sauntered up to the buffet. I loaded my plate with some unsatisfactory helpings of dry food, and sat down with her. Dinner was silent. I searched for something to talk about other than typical small talk, but found it difficult to do so as her gaze kept shifting to her friends. She disappeared for a bit to go talk with them, and then returned to take off her jacket. I glanced over at her and with a smile asked her to dance. When I return from the bathroom, was her reply, and she set off with her friends in that direction. I waited awhile, slightly nervous about the night at this point, but still keeping casual by talking with my friends. The dance floor was beginning to fill, so I waited anxiously now. When she returned, her and her friends made straight for the dance floor. She hadn’t even come over to get me, without a single glance.

 

There is only a lot of this story left, so I will provide you with the easiet summary possible. I would come up to her and dance with her for perhaps five minutes, and she would depart from me into the crowd to dance with someone else. Left standing along and awkward in the pit of the dance floor, I felt my cheeks burn red with embarrassment, and my stomach tie itself into knots. The waterskin that was my heart was slowly wringing itself out, and the pain only got worse. Finally, I went back to the table and sat alone, and drank from my whiskey bottle covertly, yet frantically. Whiskey, was a poor choice. The heartbreak drink, as I have come to call it, went down my throat only to further feed my embarrassment and loneliness. I couldn’t even talk with my friends, and some of them came to me. A flutter of what’s wrong, or are you ok, was flung to me. I didn’t know how to respond. I didn’t want to look like a fool. I simply replied, “I’m taking a break,” to gesture subtly away that I was not ok. One of the girls’ closest friends, and a good friend of mine came later in the night, and was able to guess what was causing my solitude. She told me to get up and dance, and have fun. I told her I couldn’t. I even made up a lie that I didn’t know how to dance. A bull**** answer, by the way, everyone knows how to dance.

 

My date must have gotten wind of my sorrow, as she made her way over and told me to come dance. I would follow her sheepishly, my confidence gone and far away. I would stand with her, and dance closely behind her. As my troubles felt like they were all for nothing, and my night improving, she left again without a word, or moved to dance away from me. I would proceed then to step back to my table, embarrassed once again. She repeated this process a few more times, out of guilt was my guess, to have the same effect. I even nerved up and asked her to dance again when a slow song came on, and she simply made up another “in a minute” excuse and went away. I sat back down, and drained what was left of my whiskey, the one kid that was not on the dance floor. I watched from afar as this girl I brought danced with other guys in my class, my friends, and acted playful with them. It stung, it pierced me like an arrowtip, and I slipped down into a slump in a drunken array of self-loathing. I analyzed myself, and as I did, I stepped outside into the warm night air, to truly be out of sight of judging eyes.

Who did I think I was? Some hot shot jock bringing a beauty to the prom? A stud of all varieties that had asked this girl to prom thinking that she had picked me for me? My curly hair, cut short to reduce its fluffy nature, my clean shaven face, my pudgy ruddy cheeks. My uneven teeth. How could I ask her to dance with someone like me? I wandered back inside, and sat back down alone. The end of the night grew near, and I couldn’t wait to leave. The final slow song of the night came, and I found myself asking one of my less attractive friends to dance with. I felt it right since her date had left early, that she share the last dance with someone. I made sure she was having a good time, and she said yes. Halfway through the song, I saw my date, and politely made my leave to go see her. I asked her to dance, and she abruptly accepted, laughing as she apologized for being rather sweaty. At this point, I didn’t care. The song only lasted another minute, but it felt even shorter to me. My arms holding softly to her exposed back, her chin on my shoulder. The song was over, and all of us left.

 

We spoke few words after that, and went to leave. We walked about the town for a bit until we arrived at the town commons. She went and laid quietly in the grass, she said she hadn’t felt good. I lead the rest of the party to a nearby children’s slide and structure, and proceeded to roll a joint. I needed it at this point, as my alcohol was gone. I shared some with the others present, my date still lying on the grass about a yard away. It crossed my mind once to go over to her, but my hazy paranoid mind told me not to. So we sat awhile, and then went back to the car. She fell asleep on the ride back to her friend’s house, and when we got there she walked around to me. “I’ll give you a hug.” She said, and so she did. I felt embarrassed at how she had worded it, but temporarily grateful for the miniscule attention. We took the same road home, as she lived along the way, and I followed her close behind in my car. As I saw her turn into a small apartment house in a town that I had spent a lot of time in when I was younger, I felt my turn signal flick on by accident, as if to turn in with her. I quickly flipped it off, and drove forward into the night. My nose tingled, my eyes grew heavy, but I did not allow tears to fall. I just wanted to go to bed.

 

I fell asleep easily, but waking up was the worse. I was not hung over, or even tired, but my thoughts instantly flew back to prom. I felt my nose tingle again, but this time my cheeks began to grow wet from tears that blinked free from my eyes. I cursed myself, I insulted myself, I disowned myself. I was so sick, of being alone. I felt myself hoping, however, that she had at least had a good time.

 

This was not by any terms the first time I had felt like this, about a situation like this. It still hurt as much as it did the last hundred times.

So it goes.

[LeaningIntoTheMuse]

Jesus man, you have a way with words! That was brilliant!

 

Sorry if it's true, and I think you have some form of BDD if it is, but you could be a writer. Do you write?

 

There is a Journals section on here. I'm sure plenty of people here would love to read your experiences. And welcome to LS!

[ltuthill92]

Jesus man, you have a way with words! That was brilliant!

 

Sorry if it's true, and I think you have some form of BDD if it is, but you could be a writer. Do you write?

 

There is a Journals section on here. I'm sure plenty of people here would love to read your experiences. And welcome to LS!

 

Heh, BDD could very well be the answer, though I don't tend to criticize myself that often. I wrote this the day after it happened, in the heat of my emotion. Its typically what goes through our minds when we handle rejection yeah? Or at least for some. Regardless, thanks for the feedback. I actually do write, but never have the patience to finish anything.