I could write a lifetime movie.

I have always said to people, I could write a lifetime movie about my life. A lot of what I’ve went through is the typical lifetime movie HOT MESS, corny ideas. But at the same time, they are very real to me. Some of the memories I’ve stored away are now coming out because of EMDR- a type of trauma therapy I have been working on with my therapist. I have to admit that not all these memories are good and hell some are embarrassing. I even cringe as I write some of them, simply because they are outrageously typical and seem avoidable now that I’m older and out of certain environments. This particular memory came flooding back during one of my EMDR sessions. I left annoyed that  I remember it and embarrassed that I acted this way. This instance occurred after I was taken advantage of, maybe a week or two after. I have been avoiding posting this and it has been burning a hole on the piece of paper I scribbled it on after that day of therapy.  So here it goes.

It was the night of the party, first one with this crowd. Cliche but the high school “it crowd.”  Typically don’t even like them; actually at all, but it was a party and I was determined to keep busy. Emotions were stirring, pre-game buzz and feeling pretty good. It was crowded. And hot. The more people that flocked in, the more comfortable I became. I began to blend. I was having a good time. I spotted a friend coming in with another acquaintance.

My confidence buzz made me a social flirt with everyone. I wanted them to know I was there and confident.

“Hey! What took you so long? You have a lot of catching up to do! Be my partner, I’ll call next on table.”

Watch out. She’ll start dancing everybody.” Udder dread fills me as I look behind her and see his weasel of a smirk; as he once again makes me look like a 10 year old girl stuffing her shirt with toilet paper, desperately trying to grow up. Within seconds I went from a loving high to a shameful cold sweat. Keep it together. I repeated to myself as I chugged down the last of my warm, flat beer.

“You wish you could see me dance.” Oh nice. Why don’t you taunt him with : I know you are but what am I. My so called friend has disappeared gracefully into the crowd. Clearly forgetting the tension and utter fear I was feeling. Yea thats it, she just forgot and got distracted.

I walk to find the keg. One too many later… I’m at the table, shamefully distracting the other male team by pulling down my shirt a little. I can feel the laughter from the girls around the room but I can’t stop myself. I push it aside and focus on making him look bad, while successfully making a fool of myself.

I sink the last cup; purely amazing considering it was the only cup made on my end. I take this as a positive sign that I’m proving my worth. But to who? In the midst of my shit talking I turn around and proceed to knock over every cup on this side of the table. Covered in beer and sweat I hear him. ” Two beer queer. Have another one!” His laugh fuels my fire.

I start spitting out words that would put anyone to shame. While trying to get my girl fight moment on I feel two sets of arms pull me into the terribly blue wallpapered dinning room. Come upstairs.”

“Why? I’m fine.”

“Come upstairs.” I feel a not so gentle tug and realize I am being forced out of a party, upstairs, with 2 boys who have spoken maybe 3 words to me ever, drunk. What the hell did I get myself into? Please not again.

“Look. You need to cool it or leave.”  Act caught off guard.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re acting a fool. Can’t have you make any more scenes over him.”

“Okay, okay. I’m fine.”

“No more to drink.” Yes…father..?

“Alright.”

“Hold that one for the rest of the night.” I was put in my place. Way to screw it up. Washing my face in the bathroom I tell myself to get it together and thank whoever is watching over me that nothing else happened. I must have been in there a while because most people were gone when I came down. Only a group of 20 left maybe. I stayed true to my word and held that beer like it was attached to my hand.

At this point, everyone was a point of no return while I was sobering up. Everyone formed a circle in the living room. Someone came up with the lame, preteen idea; spin the bottle. Nerves were shooting through me. I relaxed as I watched others go before me. Okay it’s harmless, everyone is doing it.

It’s my turn. The empty hurricane bottle lands on the winner ; my friend who still has not explained her MIA status earlier that night.Laughs in the room as I think Show no fear. Don’t make them think…..”

She won’t do it. I couldn’t even get to 2nd base.”  You son of a bitch. Mocking me after what you did to me. Far from 2nd buddy.Game on asshole.

Proving yet AGAIN that the only thing we have together is his power to make me do stupid shit and make me look like the girl trying to make a boy jealous. Spins and spins later, I look around and count over half of the circle has experienced my endeavor against prudeness.

Enough. I hate myself. You’re dirty. You said you were sleeping over and having a girls not. Now look what happened. You swapped spit with people who chime in on the taunts.

“Keep the knives away. Never know what she’ll do.” followed by a cutting motion on the forearm.

“She’s the next DJ.” Speaking of a friend that recently ended her life.

The worst part? When said from his lips, I believed every word. Whole heartedly.

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