Make Me Love You:
Public, Part One
Public, Part Two
Private

Arg, I've got a headache.

It's one of those that makes my eyes all funky. Maybe I should just go to bed right now.

What a horrid banner that is running above my text box right now. I will pause to scroll the page to where I can no longer see it.

..........................Pause.....................

Ahhh, better.

So. I had this friend in sixth grade named Rebecca and I used to ask her to draw me pictures because she was really an amazing artist. At 12, no less.

Rebecca was very cool. She was calm when I needed it. I hung out with a whole lot of dunderheads mostly, other than her and one other girl. Sixth grade was sort of a weird time for me. My OCD was particularly bad and I felt just sort of abnormal all the time and all I really wanted was to be normal like other people I knew.

You know how they say gay men have beards sometimes? You know, women they marry to make them appear straight? Well, these girls I hung out with were my beards, so to speak. I strapped them on to make myself look more normal. Cause they were normal. Horribly, pathetically, depressingly normal.

But I had friends that I actually liked too, like Rebecca. I preferred hanging out with her over any of my other friends, because she didn't get mad at me for incomprehensible reasons and she was so damned calm. Oh yeah boy, I envied that calm.

She was so effing fun to hang out with.

Aaaaaanyway, back in the here and now, Louise became friends with one of the DJs at our club and happened to be sitting with him at a concert. And our boy here tells her that his wife used to go to school in this small, crappy, horrid town L and I used to live in.

(Oh yes, brothers and sisters, L and I have known each other a really, reaaaalllly long time)

"Really?" sez L. "I went there too."

And we all know where the story goes from there. Mr DJ's wife is none other than Rebecca.

Weird, weird, weird.

Rebecca told L that my stupid, awful friends were nice to her when I was around, and mean to her when I was not. One of them asked Rebecca to draw her a picture and then erased Rebecca's name and put her own on it. They would ask her for pictures ("Really stupid pictures," Rebecca said), and then go back to being mean to her.

If I had known these things, I would have pounded them until their awfulness was just a sticky goo on the pavement. Oh, the rain of hell would have been visited upon them. I would have put the fear o' God into them, babies. But. I didn't know.

Ooooo, it makes me so mad. Oh man, I can't believe how much people can suck. Just can't believe it.

However, Rebecca started charging them a buck for the pictures she drew. Heh. I love that.

Just for the record, I have no idea why they would have been mean to her. She was really pretty, and smart and nice and all that. Maybe it was just that they didn't like how quiet she was. Maybe she was too smart. I don't know. It's a conundrum, I'm telling you.

None of that matters at all any more, though, at least not to her I don't think, because we're grown. But still. Here are the two things I wanted to come to with this story:

Rebecca is still one of the coolest people I've ever known. And I am thankful I had her as a friend when I did, cause she was the good kind of normal that I needed.

And,

Faith, Christa, and Amy, and anyone else that I may have forgotten, you suck the biggest, wettest ropes known to humanity. I hope you get monkey bites of the worst kind.

Remember that. I've got worse curses than that, too. So don't try me.

There.

-Mlle R