So today I AND NOBODY ELSE was driving home from school today, reminiscing like many of you, saying "Oh gee, it appears I'm going to have to watch lonely people mope about and lovey-dovey couples try to suck each other's fillings out of their mouths for the entire day, just like last year," and it makes me glad that I don't give two and a half shits about Valentine's Day. I mean, who should, right? Well, I can see the reasoning for it behind men; a guaranteed night to get laid, and for women, a guaranteed night to get free shit. But really, if you have a significant other, do you idiots really need a day for an excuse to go "OH WE'RE SO IN LOVE, LET'S GET SOME RUSSIAN-ROULETTE CHOCOLATE AND ANTACID HEARTS TO CELEBRATE THE OCCASION!" or am I just missing something? What the fuck is stopping you from doing that any day of the week? It's just like Halloween; I don't need an excuse to dress up like a gay superhero and go around to people's houses asking for candy, because I'm an adult and I can do whatever the fuck I want. I get drunk and wear green on any other day of the week. I don't need St. Patrick's Day to tell me that I can get blitzed out of my mind with my fellow Irish-Americans who don't understand any of the cultural significance behind the holiday. DON'T USE A DAY AS AN EXCUSE.
And plus it costs money, and I'm fucking broke. It's a holiday to get you to buy shit, is what it is. For the money I waste constantly, I don't need a day to make me buy more shit for my gal; I already have anniversaries and birthdays to remember. Those are more important since they actually mean something. Valentine's Day is not a real day of celebration. But you didn't come read this post to hear hear me bitch about Valentine's Day and I wouldn't expect you all to stop being consumer whores because one bitter and isolated prick told you to. I have a life lesson to hand out.
In High School, it was 2005. Valentine's Day. For a man just getting over a year-long fling with somebody, it wasn't exactly the Holiday I wanted to partake in again so quickly. But this dumbass I knew had other ideas. His name was Jacob Warner, and I have to tell you that this bastard depressed the Hell out of me. Jacob was an... odd fellow, I guess you can say. He wasn't really a friend, but he still insisted on talking or hanging out with me, regardless of my seething dislike of him that he seemed to overlook. But he was autistic or had Aspergers or some other magical excuse mental illness that somehow seemed to pardon his behavior of acting like a socially-retarded creeper. If I have anything positive to say about the idiot, it would be that he eventually influenced my at-then budding tastes in Japanese culture and the like.
He was caught jerking off to Pokemon hentai in the school library, by the way. Food for thought for what kind of person I had to deal with on such frequent occasion.
Now because he was the first true lonely anime game nerd I met, he's influenced my outlook on those kinds of people a lot from that point on. It isn't favorable, if you hadn't noticed. Again, it wasn't like he was particularly ugly or fat or anything; he just had the social capabilities of a cabbage rotting from the inside. But he was REAAAAAAAAAAAALLY lonely. He nursed a crush on a neighbor girl for the longest time, and it was fucking creepy, too. She was in middle school. WHAT THE FUCK, MAN? YOU'RE A FUCKING JUNIOR IN HIGH SCHOOL, YOU SHOULDN'T BE EVEN LOOKING AT THAT SHIT. That's right; he was older than I was. Did he just start going through puberty? This of course was when I first learned what a lolicon was, but again, whacking off to nudes of Misty in the school library so I suppose I shouldn't have been too surprised.
It was unnerving being around this creeper constantly talking about her. And I mean TALKING about her. Things that most people would consider Freudian slips. These weren't slips. He discussed his first date with her, how it would go, what they would buy, their first night ohgodohgodohgodohgod, the marriage, the ring, the honeymoon, the beautiful house they'll live in, the works. Dude, who gives a fuck if you're going to get her nice shit? YOU HAVEN'T EVEN ASKED HER YET.
"Do you even talk to her?" I impudently asked.
"What? I have. A few times."
"'A few times?'" I sighed.
"Five or ten times, maybe." he responded. I paused.
"......How long have you known her?"
"About six or seven years."
"......You don't even know how she acts." I drolled.
"I have from talking to her."
"You talked to her at the worst, once a year. That's not enough to know somebody."
"You're single just like I am, what would you know about dating and asking people out?"
Ooh, wrong thing to say, Jacob. Wrong thing to say to somebody just getting over a relationship. Shit was going to get real, now. I had to literally grab the side of my face to keep my eyebrow from twitching so violently while I occupied my hand with something to grab other than his flimsy throat.
Of course I had to excuse it; the silly rotting cabbage probably just didn't know any better. I'm being bitter; I have no right to dampen somebody's vain and unrealistic attempts at love, even if I know it's going to end in failure. So I agreed to help him in any way I could if he needed it, which wasn't much since I was a drunken emotional wreck at that point in time.
"Ask her how she feels about me."
"....Dude I would bet that she probably doesn't even remember your name."
"JUST DO IT."
"FUCK, ALRIGHT ALREADY. You fucking retard, where the Hell do I ask her?"
"At her house, It's on the street parallel to Union next to mine when we walk home."
"...I'm not fucking going to her house." Of course I wasn't. If there was a drunk man with a glazed look of embellished friendliness in his eyes knocking on some stranger's door asking if he could speak to his daughter, somebody would be getting arrested that night.
"Then catch her after school. She goes to Stella Brockman if you remember where that is."
"Fine, I'll do it tomorrow."
"Won't you be in school?" he asked.
I wouldn't. Class sucked that day so I just left early. Hah, a teenage alcoholic cutting school to go talk to a middleschooler on Valentine's Day. Where's Chris Hansen when you need him? I'm eventually going to be trolling Craig's List for young preteen whores looking for fun while their parents are at work if things keep up at this pace. But class was getting out at the school, so now was my chance.
"Uh...... is your name Milly?" I was nervous. Well why the fuck wouldn't I be, this is taking creepy and kicking it up to eleven.
"You're... Lucas, right?" she asked. "That guy Jacob occasionally walks home with?"
"...Y-y-yes I am." I did not like where this was heading.
"What'd you need?"
"Well, truth be told..." I was pausing a lot. Words cannot express how uncomfortable I was. And to make a man uncomfortable who's flashed 5pm traffic while drunk is nothing to scoff at.
"......Oh god, I almost forgot what day it was." she said, blushing a bit. "Don't tell me..."
"NO, GOD NO. IT'S JACOB, I'M SPEAKING ON HIS BEHALF."
"Oh..." she almost sounded disappointed. What the fuck? "I suppose I didn't take notice of what day it is. I don't much like Valentine's Day. People only care about buying things for each other, anyway."
"True," I agreed. "It's a commercialized holiday to force us to buy things for people we like, as if we need an excuse."
"It's almost pathetic how some people act on this holiday, like it gives them a reason to finally say something." She seemed just as embittered and cynical as I was. It was like finding a comrade, but that's not what I was here for.
"But right, about Jacob..." I continued.
"I don't like him. He's a creeper. I just act nice to him so he'll leave me alone. If he wasn't so awkward, then maybe." HA, FUCKING CALLED IT. "Besides, isn't he a Junior? That's kind of creepy." I laughed.
"Yeah, yeah it is. I honestly don't know why I'm doing this for him."
"Besides, somebody a bit younger would be better..." she said, shuffling her feet a bit. She started blushing a bit.
"Hmm?" I looked at her. I paused for a bit. "...Oh. OH. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh dear." This was a turn of events I wasn't anticipating. This wasn't good, either. It might've been the hangover impairing my judgment, but she was pretty cute. WHAT, NO, BAD THOUGHTS. She had a hell of rack for just turning 14, to--GET OUT OF MY HEAD, NO. Her eyes were a nice blue colo--DUDE SHE'S IN FUCKING MIDDLE SCHOOL, SNAP OUT OF IT.
"I HAVE TO GO." And I sprinted out of there before she could respond. I sprinted as fast as I fucking could. I was outrunning cars. I sprinted back to my house as quickly as possible and then took a cold shower for 2 hours. The following day I skipped first and second period and avoided Jacob for most of the day despite his insistence on trying to talk to me. I was sober for the first in a while, too. I was crazy paranoid, thinking the government was going to arrest me for some creepy pedoshit or metaphorical rape or something. Eventually though, I caught Jacob on the way home, and he stopped me. Fuck, no way out of here.
"So did you tell her?" he was impatient.
"Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. Yeah I did."
"Well? Did she have anything to say?"
"Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. Yeah she did."
"Well, what?"
"Uh......" I didn't know what to say. I never told a stalker that he had no shot. He might go fucking crazy and activate his retard strength to kill me or something.
"HEY LUCAS!" I heard a girl shout.
"...Oh fuck me." I muttered. She would if I let her, probably. She came scampering out of her house next door. She had a nice skirt on and was wearing a Super Mario shirt. OH GOD, WHY MUST YOU TEST ME WITH SHIT LIKE THIS?
"You left before I had a chance to say anything." she said, pouting her lip a bit. There was a blank stare on Jacob's face.
"...Say what?"
"Well, it wasn't so much saying something." She grabbed my collar and pulled my head down to kiss me. Not a peck on the cheek. Right on the lips, with her tongue waging war against a resistance in my mouth fighting for everything morally just in the world. But damn it all if I didn't enjoy it. What the hell were they teaching Middleschoolers these days? But as pleasant as that was, Jacob stood there in front of me. His stare was blank. It was empty. The look on his face was empty. When you looked into his eyes, you could only see a bleak void inside them. Inside them, was the other side. And there was nothing there. And if I didn't leave, I would be there and quickly fade into emptiness like everything else. I grabbed Milly and ran like Hell.
"WELL I THOUGHT HE WAS GOING TO FUCKING KILL US, I JUST NTR'D HIM OUT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET."
"Ho hum, that's what he gets for not acting normal~" she said harmoniously.
"And I can't date you, you're in Middle School." I stated. "I have enough terrible things on my conscience as it is, I don't need another one."
"Who cares?" she adamantly said. "What's the worst that could happen if we get caught?"
"We will get caught, I'm a drunkard with the subtlety of a hummer driving through a minefield." Of course, she didn't much like to hear that. And to be honest, if I didn't know her age, we would probably be at home filming evidence that would inevitably be used against me in court.
"...What if we wait until I'm in High School, then?" she inquired.
"......Yeah, then it'll probably be alright then." Kind of fucking arbitrary, but that was all it took to suddenly put the situation in the clear.
We remained friends after that. Occasionally lending each other games, talking about random shit when we were bored, those kinds of things. Of course, the disappointing part was that due to the events in my life where I was to be evicted from my apartment, I lost contact with her during the move. A damn shame since she was in fact going to the same High School I was.
As for Jacob, he was still standing out there when we got back, in the same position, with the same emptiness from his eyes punctuating the dim atmosphere on the street. She went into her house and I went home. Never saw the fucker again, and neither did she. Did he move? Did he kill himself? Beats the piss out of me, I didn't care and I was glad that he was gone. If the dumb bastard would've confessed himself, he would've had his dreams crushed by her instead of letting me grind them into powder.
So I could've gotten it on with jailbait, yet my morals got the better of me. I don't know if I should feel proud or stupid or regretful. Although crushing a waterhead's dreams of love was something to be proud of. IF I CAN'T BE IN LOVE, NOBODY CAN. AHAHAHAHAHAHA.
...Well fine, I suppose I'm still a bit bitter. Happy Valentine's Day.
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