Men of the Skull Chapter 41: Letter from Judy

Here's another "cheat" chapter.  I didn't write this.  At all.  This was, word for word, spelling and grammar errors intact, written by "Judy."  I still have the original handwritten letter.  I'm a sentimental person- I always have been.  I have every personal letter ever sent to me from high school onwards, some almost forty years old.  Some of the writers are long dead.  Almost all have been gone from my life for years.

But not Judy.  While we communicate infrequently, we keep up with each other's lives.

Why keep the letters?  After all, they were, for the most part, written long ago to a person who was a shell: a Lie.  Well, because at one point, someone cared enough about me to set pen (or pencil) to paper to let me into their mind, or even their heart.  I think that's one thing that's missing today.  It's easy enough to type out a tweet or a message or even an email... but no one takes the time to write out their thoughts and feelings and Truths onto paper. And while one can print out an email...

A letter is forever.


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Chapter 41: Letter from Judy

January 26, 1987

Dear Lance,

            No, I am not writing this in a horizontal position.  I might fall asleep.  Not good.  Anyway, getting what I did off my chest on the phone helped you from receiving a hostile letter.

            I really understand your confusion as to who you can trust.  Often I wonder that myself.  The difference between you and me was is that I am very trusting because I don’t think people would want to hurt me.  However, when they break my trust I have a harder time trusting those people again.  With you it was different.  Although you had betrayed my trust, I still think I can trust you with what I revealed to you last night.  Here is one way in which you can win my trust back.

Collegian, Jan 26, 1987

            You, on the other hand, trust hardly anyone and I am sorry if I gave you reason to distrust me.  I can’t blame you.  If I can betray someone elses trust, what’s to stop me from betraying yours.  I promise that I will always keep what you have told me to myself.  It is a promise I plan to live by.  You can take me up on it if you so choose, and if you don’t remember, if you should ever choose to later, that I will be there.  I care about you a great deal and I hate to see you hurt.  If I can, I would like to be able to help you.

            You have done a lot for me and I hope one day I will be able to repay you.  You have helped me in a lot more ways then you probably realize.  You have given me a renewed interest in myself.  I have never really liked myself, never thought myself as pretty, smart, basically any of that stuff.  You have made me realize that I have something special to offer this world.  You may be asking- “Doesn’t Richard make you feel special?”  The answer is yes, he does (very much so.)  You make me feel unique in a different way.  I don’t know if I can explain it to you.  You have been a great help to me recently when I have doubted my capabilities.  You always seemed to have faith in me.  Then again, I am my worst enemy!  To get to the point; you asked me once if you make me feel special.  I hope this answers that.

            I can really understand your doubt.  If you understand the above I give you credit because it explains my own confusion.  I am trying to straighten thing out.  It is a long process.  You may think it is too long.  You might be saying “You can’t make up your mind and I can’t wait around forever.”  I can’t blame you for saying this nor can I expect or ask you to.  As for me, I don’t think it has been too long.  I think I have made a great deal of progress and I am proud of myself.  I think I have come a long way since I came here but I still have a long way to go.  I am trying my hardest not to hurt people along the way.  I am extremely insecure and many times I will cling to anyone who will let me.  I don’t want to “cling” to you in that way and I don’t think you want me to, anyway. 

Collegian, Jan 26, 1987

            To tell you the truth, I am glad that you are still interested but I couldn’t blame you if you started seeing someone else.  In fact I am sure it would be good for you so you wouldn’t feel lonely but I realize you don’t think so anyway.  In fact sometimes I feel you “pull a Virginia” when you say – yeh but you could never understand how lonely I am or I am so much more lonely than you.  That may be so, but you don’t really know that, do you?  Often I am lonely when I am by myself; left to do things on my own; or even sometimes when I am with Rich and he just doesn’t understand me (be it religion or other.)

            You say I haven’t shown any interest in you since Thanksgiving and that has been true.  I have tried my hardest and frankly I have become accustomed to that.  But that doesn’t mean I don’t get touched when you give a kind word or feel stimulated when you touch me gently.  I still think of being intimate with you from time to time (Often when you look me in the eye and smile gently at me.)  Sometimes I think I let my guard down and you can see right through me (But I guess not.)

            It bothers me that you feel lonely and that you need someone.  I don’t think anyone understands that more than myself.  I seriously couldn’t live without someone to share my life with.  I’ve tried once but I really don’t call what I did living and if you would have known me then I think would have felt the same.  I had so much yearning but it was all stored up inside of me.  Now I am learning how to live.  I admire you because you face reality and you have a grip on life.  You probably don’t think so but you should look at yourself from my point one day and you would be surprised.  I look up to your kind of strength.

            Which brings me to another point: You mentioned in your letter that you are “terribly insecure” in the romantic sense.  That you need an “anchor” but you “need someone who won’t crumble if (you) lean on them.  Ergo, I can’t start with Virginia.”  Do you think I am any more secure than she?  Well, let me phrase it differently.  (2) Do you think you can lean on me and be that “anchor” your so desperately yearning or should I say seeking?

            Now I do admit when it comes to relationships I give them my all and I often gain my strength from them.  I feel that I am my most secure when I am “involved.”  It would be easy for me to get involved with you now but would it be the right thing?  Would it help me ease my problems or create new ones?  Believe me I have given that one much thought.  I am afraid that if I got involved with you it would be running away from my problems at this particular point.  I am really too mixed up to answer these questions!  I have so many thoughts running through my mind and yes, I have taken the time to sort them out and up to this point I have been unsuccessful.  It’s true what you said “things do change every week.”  I really don’t blame you for saying “Hell with it.”  Sometimes I think that would be the best for both of us- but will it?  And will I lose your friendship as well.  I would not be able to handle that.

            If you really don’t think you can win not here, not now, you are probably right but who is to say- me? You? – who?  I really don’t know.  Guess what, I am frustrated also and growing more so.  Ahhh!  I don’t think I can take this now!

            You put that if you found someone somewhere it will mean an end to things as we know them now.  I know that.  I would be upset that I wouldn’t see you that often anymore but if you are happy I guess I would have to stand by you.  Only I do ask that you don’t lose touch with me; that we would get together every now and then and maybe we- referring to you- your girlfriend and I would be able to go out from time to time.  It may cause problems but I don’t think it would cause “major” problems as you put it and you can and will win some time- KEEP THE FAITH!

            Yes, I do think it is time to start looking for yourself.  Maybe not 10 yrs, that’s a little too long but you should begin now.  It might be a good idea.

            Do you really think that if things start again that they will help you?  Are you just hoping it will.  If all you need is someone to ease the loneliness I may be the solution.  (Because if kept quiet it might hurt the least amount of people.)  Is this what you wanted me to answer?  Do you want to keep it hidden?  Do I?  (I will have to ponder that if you give me the answer to the questions above.)  As you said what else can you do?  (Maybe it can be for a time until you find someone else- who knows?) maybe.

            Meanwhile why don’t we sit down and talk over our options.  What do you think?  Sound good?           

            In the meantime we’ll talk, see how things sound.  O.K?

            Sorry if this letter sounds like much ado about nothing but you wanted to know what I am thinking- Here it is.  What do you have to say now?

Always,

Judy 

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Deadly Sin

I'd like to think I'm a good person.

I volunteered as a paramedic while still in high school.  I forsook big money in Engineering, and decided to become a teacher instead.  I wanted to help kids be ready for the future.  I volunteer with organizations as much as I can.  Even if I have little, I will give what I have to someone who has less (to the chagrin of Wife and others.)  I drove a friend to the airport at three o'clock this morning, not expecting compensation (She paid me over my objections) because that is what friends do.

Is it to make up for my Dark side?  All the drinking and fighting I did?  My inability to cope with the Woman inside of me?  Standing by and watching bad things happen and not standing up for what was Right?  My encyclopedia of faults as a person?

I don't have an answer to any of that.  I wish I did.

Very recently, I spent my day in a waiting room in a Philadelphia hospital with the wife of a fellow transgender woman who was getting Gender Confirmation Surgery.  It wasn't the first time I'd done this.  It won't be the last.  I was asked, and I was glad to help. Her wife and I had a pleasant few hours sharing stories and maybe some secrets, before we went up to the room where the transgender woman would be for the next week.  I said "hello" and left, as I didn't want to intrude on that couple's moment.

Whiz Comics #1, art by CC.Beck

There was another reason I left, though.

I like to think I'm a good person (is there an echo in here?)  I have many faults.  One of them is... sometimes I get Jealous.

That's not a revelation to my Wife.  She is quite aware of it.  As are past girlfriends.  I'm nowhere near as bad as I used to be, though.  I've developed a Zen attitude to it- that good things happen to others and not to me because They deserve it and I don't.

But every once in a while... yes, I get jealous.  And I am jealous of everyone that can afford Gender Confirmation Surgery.  I'm jealous of people who have a spouse who will sit in the waiting room while getting that surgery- who stay through thick and thin.

I don't blame my Wife for how she feels.  Far from it.  But that doesn't mean I don't get jealous.

I'm VERY happy for my sisters who get the surgery.  I truly am.  I am glad SOMEONE in this life gets to be happy.  But that doesn't mean I don't wish it were me.

Wanna know what's worse?  I feel REALLY bad that, at my age, I still feel that emotion.  In some ways, I've tried to purge emotions, as they have brought me nothing but Pain.  No, I'm not going for Kolinahr.  But jealousy is an emotion I've done my best to eliminate.  I try to replace it with being happy for that person's success.  For being happy that said person found someone.  Happy that other people jump effortlessly from high paying job to higher paying job while I can't get hired at Burger King, and am standing by to be homeless.

Here's me: smiling for their success- success that THEY DESERVE.  Yay them!

That doesn't mean I don't feel like a total asshole for wishing that just once, it were me.

Because I do.

I've Seen this Face Before

I initially posted this last night on facialbook after a long day.  I think I should develop it a little further.  Because I have nothing else to do after sending out a bunch of resumes.

By now, most Americans have seen his face.  His name is Nick Sandmann. He's in 11th grade at Covington Catholic High School.  I'd link to the school, but they've taken down their web page.  Can't imagine why.

Why does this hit me so deeply? Because I've seen this spoiled kid's smirk all of my life.

This is the face of every bully who picked on me as a kid, knowing he'd suffer no consequences for his actions. It's the smile of a person who enjoys hurting others.  I've written about my bullies, and how they affected my life.

It's the smile of a kid who knows that, no matter what happens, he will lead a charmed life. This is the smile of people like Kavanagh and his ilk, knowing that they could rape a woman at will.  (Anyone remember Stanford rapist Brock Turner, who got a slap on the wrist?)

This is a kid who knows that he has tacit permission to be racist from his president- he absolutely believes he is superior to any non-White.

Now, predictably, he is crying "victim" (because that's what being a Republican in the US is about today- claiming that their white superiority is the victim of the big, bad Left Wing Conspiracy.)  I won't link to his excuse.  Find it yourself.

America's Indigenous people have dealt with this for centuries.  MAGAts will say "we conquered them- get over it."  Again, if a person in non-white, they are not human to the far right.

Native American Journalist Association president Tristan Ahtone wrote:

“In terms of education on Indigenous peoples and history in the U.S., it’s designed to erase us,” he said. “I think back to my high school and I sometimes wonder if I shouldn’t just file a lawsuit against the place, for some of the stuff they were teaching. Not only was it offensive, but it was wrong, incredibly wrong. It should be criminally negligent to teach kids some of this stuff.”

Oh, and Central Americans are descendants of Indigenous people as well: Aztecs, Maya, Olmec, etc.  Another reason for the MAGA people to hate them, aside from skin color.

The man facing this hate?  Nathan Phillips, Native American Elder and Vietnam veteran.  Think he's scared of punk like this after combat experience?

More about the kid, lest I get sidetracked.

He is there to tell women what they can/cannot do with their own body. Because he is superior to any woman.  He, and his classmates were bussed there BY THE SCHOOL to participate in a "Right to life" rally.  As in "we care about the unborn until they're born, then who cares" rally.  Also known as "We white men want to tell women what they can/cannot do with their own body" as I wrote above.  He is a right winger by definition, and, by wearing the symbol of racism and hate, is a 45 cultist.

Will there be consequences?  Are you kidding?  (Again, see "Turner, Brock") Bet this kid already has a lawyer and an agent for the multi-million dollar book deal he'll sign.  MAGAts around the country will raise millions more for him.  He'll go to a religious school or University of Kentucky, and never pay a cent.  I'm sure Fox News has already booked him.  After all, he is a hero to racists everywhere.

Still, that smile... that superior shit-eating grin...

I've seen this face all my life, but never more than since 2016.  I wonder why?

(That's sarcasm.)

An Old Story

This is an old story goes back to spring of 1990.  I think it was April.  (The journal that has that month and year in it has been in storage for a long time and I have no idea which box it's in.)  In any case, it was night and my girlfriend of the time (GF) was visiting.  I was living still at my parents house at the time, and we were both going to head down to her place to hang out for a little while.  She lived in Wayne.  We were each driving in our own cars.

Accident area circled

We were heading east on route 422, right around the Oaks exit, when I noticed a pretty serious car accident in the opposite lane.  At least two cars were involved, and there were a lot of other cars and trucks stopped in the area, but no Emergency Equipment yet.  GF was ahead of me in her car, but I pulled over- knowing that she knew that I was going to stop.  After all, I was still a paramedic at that point.

I ran across the grassy median, and went to the closest car.  The driver was a young woman- I found out later she was a college student, but I'll get back to that.  She was still alive.  In the back seat was someone I knew named Shannon, who who graduated from my high school.  As it turns, out she had some first aid training and stabilized the victim.

Knowing that she was there, I then went to the other car, where there were two Burly men doing their best to pull the door open using a crowbar.  That car was in far worse shape.  I looked inside and there, through the broken driver side window, and I saw one woman laying on the front seat with no seat belt.  Her body was pretty banged up.  I told them to stop for a second.  I reached in and took a pulse from her neck- carotid artery.

There was no pulse, and the body was already getting cold.  I couldn't declare anyone dead, but in this case, it was triage.  I understood that I should focus my efforts on the living, so I told those two men not to bother and instead focus on traffic control. I gave them directions what and where they should move their big rigs, which were blocking the entire Road.  It was my thought that help may be coming from that direction.  They moved their Rigs and began directing traffic around on the median.

I went back to the other car.  The victim was wearing a Drexel University jacket.  I figured she was around 20 years old, and the impact, even though she been secured by the seat belt, had caused both of her eyes to pop out of their sockets and rest on her cheeks.  I'd seen this before, and it's never pretty.  I did not have the equipment to do anything about that.  With Shannon's help, I finished stabilizing  the woman's knee injuries and did my best to stop the bleeding.

It seemed like an eternity that we were in there.

It's funny how you see someone who you haven't seen in years, and I was there in front of a person who's literally dying, and we were chatting about high school. What else could we talk about?  I mean, there was nothing we could do for the victim at that point.

As I said it seemed like an eternity, but eventually help came.  One of the paramedics with whatever fire company had come came to this car, and I explained to them the situation, gave the vitals as I had them, and they took over.  Shannon came out of the back seat.

The Drexel woman died the next day.

The cause of the accident was that the one car came up the exit ramp driving the wrong way at high speed.  She quickly found a target.  She left a suicide note at her house.

In this case, neither survived. Due to one person wanting to commit suicide, another innocent person died.  This girl who was around twenty years old at the time would now be around 47.  She would be a mother or maybe even a grandmother- but she's dead.

I never really considered that at the time, because she was only a couple years younger than me. I was 23, so I didn't have the perspective that I do now.

That November was my first suicide attempt.  If I could've given my life to that girl in the car so she could finish college, have a family, experience life, I would've happily done it.  I still would.  I still believe her life was more important than mine.

I still see her face at times, especially at night when I try to sleep- eyes on her cheeks.

I had a conversation with one of my dearest friends the other day.  I mentioned that my reward for being a volunteer paramedic was PTSD, bad hearing, and a bad back. 

Meanwhile, people who never worked or volunteered a day in their life make more money in an hour than I'll ever see in a lifetime. 

I hope my Pain has earned me Heaven.

Men of the Skull Chapter 40: Peso Run

Yes, this actually happened.  I witnessed it twice. 

This chapter is Pure 80s misogyny.  Guys assumed that women WANTED to see their junk, and some showed it off.  The brutal truth is- some of the girls responded positively.  They WANTED what they saw.

There was and is a "rape culture" on campuses.  Usually, the more conservative (or "rich") the campus is, then the worse it is.  At PSU, usually 1-3 rapes were reported in my time there.  Figure ten times that went unreported.  All one needs to do is look at the Brett Kavanaugh hearings to see the Entitled feeling of privileged guys who saw women only as recreation.  I knew MANY guys like this in college... and after.  I'm sad to say some of them were my fraternity brothers. 

And what did I do about it?  Nothing.  If I'd seen attack happening, I would've stepped in, of course, but mostly these happened behind closed doors.  However, one attack happened behind our fraternity house, near the dumpster, which was ten feet from the window of the room I occupied at that time.  I heard nothing- probably because of drunken sleep.

Not speaking out was Cowardice, pure and simple.  I was so different from my brothers, and so desperately wanted to fit in, that I didn't speak up. 

Yes, the 80s were fun.  But, in some ways, they were a FAR darker time.


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Chapter 40: Peso Run

Thursday, January 22, 1987 Shultz says Iran talks continued

            The party was fucking packed!  We had a social right before with Chi Omega so there were lots of hot girls.  I was in the foyer talking with Garbo when he said “Watch this” and pointed to the Brotherhood Steps.

            Down the steps came running one of the brothers- Peso.  He was Italian throughout: olive skin, black hair, dark eyes.  Even I could tell he was a good looking guy.  And if I could tell, the women must’ve drooled over him.  And they did.

Wave your hands in the air
Like you don’t care, glide by
The People as they start to look and stare.
Do your dance, do your dance quick
Mama, come on baby, tell me what’s
The Word, ah – word up,

            Peso came running down the Brotherhood stairs naked as the day he was born.  He jumped the rope at the bottom, ran a loop around the foyer, then ran back up the stairs.  He stopped at the landing, raised his arms as in victory, then ran the rest of the way up.  Totally naked.  Being naked, one couldn’t help but notice his dick.  It was huge.  He was extremely well hung.  I was envious.

            So he disappeared and the room broke out into cheers, gasps, and applause.  The girls looked wide eyed at each other, talking.  Some looked stunned.  A few stomped out the door.

            I looked at Garbo

            “Does he do that a lot?”  I said.

            “He does it at the beginning of a semester.  See, that way all the girls get talking about him.”

            “And his dick.”

            “Exactly.  He gets all the tail he wants, when he wants it,” Garbo said.

            “Pretty smart,” I said.

            “Yeah.  My pledge brother,” he said, and refilled my beer from the pitcher he held.

           

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Reply to an Anonymous Comment

On December 29, 2018, at 10:15 PM, an anonymous commenter posted the following on a previous entry:

I know it’s completely outside of the narrative here...but how about I suggest an idea? I suggest this knowing I might be wrong. However it’s worth bringing up. I’m betting you don’t hear this often but I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s a voice inside of you? How about if the whole Trans thing is bullshit? How about if you walked away from it your life and hope within it improves? Just sayin...cuz I think that totally rubs you wrong. Cuz you’re SO invested in this notion. But...what if you’re wrong?

What if you went back to Lance? Could you get support? Could you re-engage with “wife” and daughter? Could they be receptive? Could you get a job then? Could you have hope then? Maybe being a man wouldn’t actually make you suicidal? I only say this because it’s worth asking...how’s it going doing it the other way? Sounds like it sucks to me? There’s millions of men who don’t appreciate the roles our culture forces us into...maybe that’s you? Why is this such a bogus suggestion? You really don’t need or deserve to live like you are. It’s self imposed. You’re really better than your circumstances.


I replied to the comment saying I'd answer it in a separate entry.  And here it is.

There's a lot to unpack here.  First let me say that this isn't the first time I've heard this.  Or the 42nd.  Or... you get the idea.  When I first transitioned, I heard this sort of thing a LOT- mostly from "friends" who would soon either disappear immediately or fade away.  Actually, from the syntax, etc, I have a fair idea of the identity of "Anonymous."

And, actually, NO this isn't a voice inside of me.  I'll come back to this.

I'll tackle this by discussing Anonymous' (henceforth 'A') points separately-ish.

How about if the whole Trans thing is bullshit? 

Science says differently.  I could post MANY pieces about how being Transgender is BIOLOGICAL not psychological.  I'll just post this one from Harvard.  Or Michigan.  Or something a little less complex. 

Of course, I could IGNORE the mountains of scientific evidence and listen to the one or two evangelical doctors who deny the science, but that would make me a republican.

Many transgender people have mental issues, true, as do many cisgender people.  Usually, for transgender people, it's because many of us were bullied during our youth, and when we come out... well we get beaten, murdered, insulted (I've been called everything except "Child of God,") and so forth.  Not to mention the GOP doing their best to legislate us out of existence.

How about if you walked away from it your life and hope within it improves?  [edit] But...what if you’re wrong?

I can no more walk away from this than a black man can walk away from his skin color.  It's part of my biology.  As for being wrong, see above.

What if you went back to Lance? Could you get support? Could you re-engage with “wife” and daughter? Could they be receptive? 

Ok.  Let's say I wanted to do so.  Say tomorrow I declare to the world that I'm going back to being Lance.  First off, everyone who knew me before would still shun me, because I transitioned in the first place.  That genie never goes back in the bottle to use the cliche.  I'd have to change my name back, assuming I could find a judge who would do so, given that I changed it only a couple years ago.  That would be around $600.  Then there's the matter of the all-natural DD breasts I have.  They would have to go, leaving large scars.  That's around $24,000.  (Did I mention I love my boobs?  I mean, I only waited my whole life for them...) Then there's the matter of "down below."

Would Wife and daughter have me back?  As they live with MIL, the answer is "NO."  I've written so many times about that situation and I really don't feel like rehashing it.  MIL is the one who tossed me out in August 2013, not Wife.  Her opinions about LGBT have only hardened with the coming of 45.

Could you get a job then? 

I'm 52 years old.  I have no idea.  I WOULD regain my male privilege, which is a major advantage.


Could you have hope then? 

Hope for what?  Being male almost killed me, because I simply wasn't one.  Which leads to...

Maybe being a man wouldn’t actually make you suicidal? 

Ah, and here's the crux of it, isn't it?  I WAS suicidal as a guy.  (I never considered myself a "man" as I didn't think I met the criteria I set for that title.)  In December 2013, I had a choice- transition or blow my head off with a shotgun.  I borrowed a shotgun (loaded) and was on my way to my death when I decided I couldn't do that to my (then) five year old daughter.  I decided to transition.  As I've written before, I don't think I made the right choice.

I only say this because it’s worth asking...how’s it going doing it the other way? Sounds like it sucks to me? 

Big style.  Know why?  Because so many people HATE people like me just for existing.  They fear that which is different, and that fear leads directly to hatred.  Mostly it's guys who give me the most grief- they're worried about people judging them for being civil to someone they think is "gay" or "trying to trick them."

There’s millions of men who don’t appreciate the roles our culture forces us into...maybe that’s you? Why is this such a bogus suggestion? 

Which roles do they resent?  Acting like human beings?  Treating other people, like women and LGBT, with respect?  Men are still top of the heap.  Stop whining for f**k's sake!  ;)

You really don’t need or deserve to live like you are. 

I agree.  Maybe if there were no GOP or faux Evangelicals, people would keep their noses out of my life and let me just Live.  Can't have that, can we?  Nope- because fear and hate generate votes and money for their churches and parties.  That means power.

It’s self-imposed. 

No, it isn't.  No more than skin color or genetics are self-imposed.  The only thing I did was to start living my Truth instead of lying to myself and the world.

You’re really better than your circumstances.

Thank you- that's kind of you to say.  That begs the question "do the circumstances make the person?"  Would Superman still be super if he never faced a crisis?  "Hero's journey" and all that?

I could write on this topic for years.  In fact, I have.  Between this blog, TG Forum, New York Times, scholarly journals, talks I've done... wow.  Guess I should get a life!

Oh wait- I already did.  It isn't easy ("Being trans is life on 'hard mode'" I once heard) but at least I'm living my Truth instead of the lie.

I hope I've answered your questions.  Be well!

Men of the Skull Chapter 39: Lies

This chapter was painful to write. It's not like I had problems with the details- because I didn't.  I remember this with crystal clarity.

It isn't every day when a person compromises everything they believe in- the very foundation of their self... to someone they really care about.

I flat out lied to her.  I lied to her face.  And she knew it.

Over the decades, I became quite adept at lying.  After all, I lied to myself my whole life, and lied to everyone else until I started admitting my Truth to myself, my Wife, and, in march 2014, to the rest of the world.

Lies have consequences.  They eat at one's soul.

I absolutely believe that even if I lost everything (and I have), I'd still have my Word.  I held that as sacred.

And, on that miserable evening, I looked into the gray eyes of a woman I really cared about, who I wanted to be with... and lied.

I never forgave myself for that.  I don't think she's forgiven me either.  I know she didn't while we were still in college.  We're still friends now, and a lifetime has passed- she may even have forgotten it.

I never did.

So, here it is- another moment where I'm an absolute a**hole.  Not the last either.  I became very adept at that over the years as well.

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Chapter 39: Lies

Thursday, January 15, 1987 Scientists say trash-to-steam safety not automatic

            “We need to talk,” Judy said.

            Shit.  I’d already figured out that those words meant nothing but bad was coming my way.

            It had been a strange up and down kinda two days.  The day before, Mark got a call from Rich.  Rich said he wasn’t coming back.  He’d continue paying his part of the rent, though.  Now the tiny apartment was just two of us, and it seemed so much bigger.  As a bonus, Rich wasn’t going to reclaim his desk until the end of the semester.

            So Mark was out at the gym when Judy arrived, bundled against the cloudy cold State College dusk.  I was typing homework on the Mac when she showed.

            “We need to talk” she said as she removed her jacket.

            “Ok.  What’s wrong?”

            “Can we sit down?”

Jan. 15, 87 Collegian.  The "Den" was, at the time, the "greek" hangout.

            I pointed to the couch and love seat but she shook her head ‘no.’ So, I pulled the chair in from the kitchen.  I sat at the one in front of the desk.  The kitchen light was the only light on in the place, so it was as dim as the cloudy sky outside.

            Once we were settled, I asked again. 

            “So what’s up?”

            “Did you have sex with Virginia again?”  Judy asked with the cold tone I’ve heard too often.

            I felt that familiar ache in my chest, like everything was crashing down and finished.  Virginia and I talked after the last time and promised each other never to mention it to other people and deny it ever happened if asked.  This was mainly because I still wanted Judy, but I didn’t tell Virginia that.  I couldn’t lie to Judy.  I mean, after all that had happened, and I was hoping that everything was going to start coming together…

You don’t have a choice.  If she finds out, you’ll lose her forever.

            I cannot lie to her!  She’s…she’s

She’s gone if you tell the truth.

            Shit.  So what did I say?

            “No,” I said.

            I lied to her.

I looked straight into those beautiful gray eyes and lied.  I felt terrible.

            “Are you sure?”  Judy said.

            “I think I would know it if I got laid,” I said.  “Why?”

            “She’s been acting very strange.  Sometimes she’s very happy, sometimes very difficult.  The last time she acted this way was after the two of you hooked up.”

Jan 15, 87 Collegian

            “Oh.  Wow.  I didn’t notice.”

            “Are you sure you didn’t have sex with her again, Lance?  I won’t be angry.”

            Bullshit!  I remember the last time.

            “Yes, Judy, I’m sure.  I’m not about to make that same mistake twice.”

            “Do you think being with her was a mistake?”

            “We talked about this.  It hurt you.  I never want to see you hurt.”  I felt bad enough already.

            She looked at me for a moment.  She must’ve known I was full of shit.

            “Would you like to come down for dinner tonight?” she asked.

            “Sure!  I need to finish this bit of homework first though.  It’ll take me maybe twenty minutes.  Wanna wait?”

            “No.  I’ll go ahead.”  She stood and went to the closet for her coat.  I watched her ass for a moment, and then followed.  She turned to look at me.  Her eyes were cold- cold as that night at the Lion. 

            “I’ll be there in about an hour I guess” I said. 

            She left without saying a word.

            I felt absolutely horrible.  I just lied to the person who meant more to me than, well more than anyone in the world.  Lied to her face.  I felt sick.  I wanted to puke- no shit.

            I felt hollow.  The familiar plastic dummy hollow… no it was worse.  I wasn’t plastic.  I was hollow…

Hollow

Like a Skull.

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