Meet MY Jackass

Hope recently wrote a post about Jackass, and reading it brought back memories of my own personal Jackass. It seems that most women have one (at least!) in their lives, usually around the college years. So I decided that rather than post an unbelievably long comment on Hope’s blog, I would share my own experience here. Obviously, the props go to Hope for making me remember my Jackass in the first place, thus prompting today’s post.

Shall we begin? Let’s.

It was way back in the late 80’s that I first met Brad. I was a freshman in college at a Big 10 University, and I was thoroughly enjoying my newfound freedom and independence. On a beautiful September day, several friends and I decided to check out the frat party scene. After flitting from one party to the next, we eventually wound up at The Frat. Due to the warm weather, most of the partygoers were outside, but the keg was inside. Since I found myself without a beverage, I told my friends to wait for me and went inside to get a drink.

Once inside, I found the keg, but no cups. As I looked around for something to pour a beer into, a dark-haired guy blew past me and picked up a pack of Marlboro Lights that was lying on one of the tables. He opened it up, peered inside, and crumbled it with a muttered, “Shit!” I watched him with amusement, and realized that we may be able to help each other – for back then, I was still a smoker.

“If you can find me a cup, I can give you a cigarette,” I offered, holding out my pack. He turned to face me. Apparently he liked what he saw, because he smiled, took the cigarette, and said, “Come on, I’ve got one downstairs.”

I followed him down the stairs, and into his room, also called “The Dungeon.” It was a pretty nice room, much better than my dorm room, with a mirrored wall, a bar, a full-size waterbed, a couch, a coffee table and a VERY nice stereo system. He vanished behind the bar and came up holding a large plastic mug with the school’s logo. “Here you go,” he said, handing it to me. I went to take it from his hand, but he didn’t let go right away. He was staring at me, and his dark brown eyes twinkled mischieviously at my blue ones. I felt myself blush, and he finally let go.

We went back upstairs and he gallantly filled my mug for me, and the two of us leaned against a table in the empty dining room and started talking. He seemed really nice, and was VERY cute, and when my friends came looking for me, they gave me knowing smiles and left. Eventually, we wound up back downstairs in the Dungeon, where he turned on Pink Floyd and we continued to talk.

Well, Brad was a pretty smooth guy, and I was pretty naïve, so it wasn’t long before the talking led to more. And more. So with “Run Like Hell” playing in the background (don’t EVEN get me started on the irony there…) I lost my virginity to a guy I barely knew. Deliberately - I knew exactly what I was doing (well, as far as technique, I didn’t, but thank God for the waterbed…) and wasn’t taken advantage of, and kind of convinced myself that I just wanted to “get it over with” anyway. So initially, I used him. He walked me back to my dorm, and the two of us spent the rest of the night together in the empty room across the hall. In the morning, my roommate saw us walking out, and I introduced her to “Brett.” I winced as my stud corrected me: “Um, it’s BRAD.”

He kissed me on the cheek and left – not even getting my number.

That should’ve been that, and if I had any brains at all, I would’ve kept as far away from The Frat as possible, but I didn’t. The following week, my friends and I wound up there again for yet another party, and I had my second run-in with Brad. I tried to play it cool and ignore him, because I actually did feel a little guilty for getting his name wrong the morning after. But surprisingly enough, HE approached ME and acted like we had been a couple for years. I have to admit, I loved the attention. He was an attractive senior, and I was a lowly freshman. He seemed pretty popular in The Frat, and there were plenty of girls hovering around him, while giving me dirty looks.

Initially, things went really well between us. But as soon as I started to fall for him, he started to change. Or should I say, he started to show the REAL Brad. Apparently he was the guy who loved a challenge, and had a new freshman every semester. Some days he would be wonderful to me, other days he would treat me like shit. But I put up with it, because I LOVED him. The whole first semester I was his doormat, and didn’t listen to anyone who tried to talk sense into me. Because every time he was a jerk, a day or two later, he would be a prince – but of course those were the times we wound up in bed. Sometimes he would literally be a total asshole from the first minute on and then at the end of the night, hang all over me, take me down to the Dungeon and turn on Pink Floyd (a not too subtle sign) – only to be a dick again the next morning. BUT, I was STUPID.

His brother even came down to visit, he was a year older and looked like a negative of Brad. Karl had blonde hair and blue eyes, and spent most of his visit trying to convince me to dump Brad and go out with him. Because Brad was no good and HE would treat me right. I told Karl I was flattered, but that Brad and I were fine, and I was happy with him. (whatafool whatafool whatafool)

Anyway, I actually had myself convinced that since Brad still kept me around in the second semester and usually dumped his freshies after the first, I MUST be special to him. But the mental abuse continued. Finally, due to stress from screwing up in my classes, issues with Brad, and issues with some of the guys in The Frat (in their own twisted way, they tried to help me get away from Brad – by being mean to me and trying to make me stay away from the House), I wound up doing the stupidest thing I have ever done in my life.

I went back to my dorm after yet another confrontation with Brad, and swallowed sixty pills.

Thankfully, and mostly due to my brother (whose picture I was looking at while I “waited to die”), I changed my mind and stumbled over to a friend’s house. They got me to the hospital and let me tell you, it SUCKED. Drinking charcoal and nasty ass stuff designed to make you puke is no fun. My parents had to come in and obviously I felt pretty stupid and guilty for doing what I did. The school had a policy that I wouldn’t be allowed to complete the semester (or return AT ALL, for that matter), but I convinced my parents to let me stay for one more week to say my goodbyes.

After many promises to keep in touch and hugs and tears, I had only one person left I really wanted to clear the air with before I went back to Chicago. So I called Brad and planned to meet him at one of the quieter bars the day before I actually left. As I waited for him, I downed a couple Long Islands for liquid courage, and then I saw him walking in. His face was a mask of indifference as I told him that I didn’t want him to think what I did was his fault, that it wasn’t, and that no matter what happened between us, I really cared for him a lot. That he was really special to me, and I hoped we could always stay at least friends.

He looked me in the eye and told me that he never had any feelings for me at all. I believe his exact words were, “Look, we slept together the first night we met. How could you think it ever meant anything to me?” I was too stunned to speak. He pounded the stake through my already broken heart one more time by adding, “You’re going back to Chicago, I’m going back to Western Suburb (that I won’t name here), so we’ll probably never see each other again. Have a nice life.” And without so much as a handshake, he got up and left.

As I watched him walk out that door, I was aware of my mouth hanging open in shock, and after a few blinks to make sure this was really happening, I closed it. There were no tears, I was all cried out already, and it was at that moment my feelings for Brad began to change. He was sooo wrong, I thought. He DID care about me. And he would regret this day forever.

A plan formed in my mind, and when my parents picked me up to go back to Chicago the next day, I was actually excited about the prospect of starting things over back home. This was going to be interesting, for sure.

Ok, I know you all HATE cliffhangers, but this is long enough for now. I really DO have to do some work! And I forgot how involved this story was. It WON’T be like “TBOTE,” this will be finished in Part 2. Which, depending on available time, will be either later today or tomorrow. Unless nobody cares about the rest, in which case there will be no Part 2 at all.