When I smudge in this room after I clean the smudge stick will probably catch fire. This was my parents room and its nothing but pent up bad energy.
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Ok. Confession. I am obsessive about tracking down people on Google. I love to see where people pop up on the net. Especially ex-boyfriends. Why? Because I am mentally bored out of my damn skull since Eddie's been gone.
Sometimes, when you go looking for something, you just might find it. Here is my discovery of a very unpleasant memory of 8 months of my life.
Whee! He was my boyfriend for 8 of the most miserable months of my life. At the time I was a skinhead. A NON RACIST skinhead. I thought he was really cute. He had beautiful eyes and lips, and at the time, he didn't have as many facial tattoos as he does now. He only had the tear drop under his eye. Oh and most notably a tattoo on his wrist that said White Pride. Irony? Oh yes, He's half Jewish.
Josh, my boyfriend decided, very early in the morning, on December 31st, to break into a liquor store warehouse and try to steal beer. Due to the holiday, they had to push up his arraignment. They also separated him from the general population because the majority of the prison population was black, and they didn't want him to get killed over the holiday. Did I forget to mention that he's 5'6" and weighed about 120lbs? He got out later that night. My sister tells me that I came into her room crying and asking her if she had any money I could borrow to bail him out of jail. My mind had graciously blocked this detail out. I still managed to haul ass to his house so we could be together to watch the ball drop.
I went to his PTI (pre-trial intervention) hearing and he actually got off. That day, we had a huge fight over the fact that I asked him, quite innocently, if he still fit in boy sized suits (considering the inside of his jacket said "Bamberger kids". We had a HUGE fight over that comment, in the middle of the mall no less. I think I should mention after this fiasco, I stayed with him for another six months.
That only scratches the surface about him. I am 5'9" tall, and obviously we looked like a strange pair to begin with. He was a compulsive liar (I foudn this out later). He was very violent when he wanted to impress his friends (but only when he friends were there to back him up). He was INSANELY jealous. Especially over one skinhead in particular with whom, at one time, I'd had a thing with. I was still insanely attracted to this man but didn't have any intentions of acting on my feelings. It didn't help that I happened to go to college in the same city that this man lived, and that this man was very flirtatious and, in my opinion at the time, very handsome. That made for some interesting fights.
There are so many horrible events that took place in the 8 painfully long months we were together. Its hard to sort them all out. When we visited his very wealthy father in South Beach Miami, I found out that he had lied to me, a lot . He told me that he tried to choke his step mother. She told me that was absolutely not true, that she would never be in the same house with anyone who tried to assault her in that way . That pretty much was the stone that made it all come crumbling down. His game was up. We broke up shortly after the visit to his Father's.
When we broke up, we had a LONG argument. I took the train all the way to Jersey City to see him, and he greeted me by telling me that he cheated on me. We argued for aproximately 2 hours. He went back and forth about wanting to be with me and wanting to dump me. Eventually he laughed at me when I called him a slut for fucking some other girl. He laughed. I freaked. I kicked his ass.
I am much bigger then he is and at the time outweighed him by about 20 lbs. I scratched, kicked, punched, hit until he got away from me. I then (now is where logic goes out the door) called the police and told them I was assaulted...which technically I was because he tried to choke me (unsuccessfully) after I grabbed his testicles and squeezed as much as my muscles would allow.
When the police arrived, they took one look at him, one look at me and told me by the shape we were in, they should be pressing domestic assault charges against me but that I should just call a cab and go home. I did and got into a cab and sobbed to the driver and the random passenger who happened to be splitting the fare.
A week later, I saw him at a house party in New Brunswick and, as a testament to my good sense at the time, wanted to get back together with him. He was covered in scratches and his nose was all messed up. He had a soft nose because, according to him, he had to have "surgery" to correct an "old break" in his nose. According to his friends, he "wanted to take the jewish out of his nose". His mother worked for a plastic surgeon and he pretty much got the surgery for free. I remember the night we met, he had a brace on it so it was pretty fresh at the time.
He was ping-ponged between his parents at their whim, convenience, rage etc. He was sent to an all boys school The Elan School! where, according to him, he was put in school with murderers, rapists and sociopaths. His father told him he was going to skiing camp. He cried as his father pulled away and left him there. Who knows what he actually did to get sent there. Come to think of it, If he were to write the truth about his life story, that would be something I would be interested in.
His sister, whom I loved dearly, was anorexic and bulimic. She used to throw up for hours in the bathroom. She used to heave so loud that you could hear it throughout the house. She was so beautiful and she was purposely destroying herself from the inside out. Most of the time, no one would say anything while she spent hours in the bathroom. She eventually dropped to about 80lbs.
Looking back on it, I really feel sorry for what those two went through. I think about the repercussions that my grandfather's molesting me had throughout my life (like choosing partners that might not be so good for me) and I empathize with what those kids went through. I think about them bouncing back and forth between two parents that hated each other and all the damage that it did to them.
Two years after we broke up, I was dating Eddie. I had heard that Josh was working in a tattoo parlor on 4th street, so one afternoon, while I was waiting for Eddie to finish school, I decided to pay him a visit. He complimented me a lot on how nice I looked. He seemed so depressed and sad. He said that he knew he was going to end up in jail. He was right. He went to prison for burglary, has been married and divorced and now, has turned up in a strip bar near the airport (spotted by my friend Becky) and in a bar on South Street (spotted by my sister).
Irony? I met Josh the same day that I met Eddie. They both came to a party at my house after a Ramones concert. I started dating Josh shortly afterward. I fell head over heels with Eddie a year and a half after that. Funny how life works.
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