2002-12-08 | SEMI-AUTOBIOGRAPHAMATIC

A story from somebody elses past:(maybe)

Steve's bike got stolen.

We used to jump rope everyday behind Safeway. By the dumpsters.

We used to try and jump over milk crates, and other stupid human tricks like that.

Every once in a while we'd take something that they threw away. Something that wasn't suitable for sale, but was suitable for immediate use.

Every once in a while they would leave the gate open, and we'd sneak in and just walk around the warehouse, or if we were tired of peeing behind the dumpsters, we'd go inside.

But that day, Steve's bike got stolen.

Jump rope was abbreviated.

We wouldn't be playing basketball later, either.

It was a bike hunt.

No jokes about "mike hunt" please....

We took the trail that started at the movie theaters.

We asked the firemen if they had seen the bike, but they seemed too busy or cool to be concerned about some 9 year olds E.T. bicycle.

God forbid they actually speak to us.

I know your 2 fires a month keep you really busy, but can you tell us if you've seen Steve's bike???

We found a bunch of scattered Playboy and Penthouse magazines in the plush grassy knoll at the top of the hill overlooking the shopping center.

I wasn't overly impressed, because I was already accustomed to seeing the naked women in my dads vast home porn collection, which I guess he thought he had hidden well.

Plus, I never was comfortable with the way boys looked at naked women. Even when I was super young.

The stupid things they say. The scary looks in their eyes. The way they groaned, and breathed, and salivated. I always looked at it as a beautiful package. I would look into their eyes. I would kiss their paper lips. I would picture myself getting married one day and making love to one of these women like they've never been made love to before.

And actually calling them the next day.

Possibly even to propose marriage.

I don't remember what I thought I was looking at when I would see a nude magazine at that age.... But I remember thinking pretty deeply for someone that age.

I remember the time I fell off the jungle-gym and cracked my head. I had to stay off my feet for a long time.

I was so dizzy, but I felt like the bionic man or something. I felt like something shot through my brain the minute I fell. Like some instincts were released. Or some intelligence bubble that wasn't supposed to be unleashed until later years, was accidentally fed to my system prematurely.

I was really popular with girls in kindergarten. I was the favorite target of all the girls during those lunchtime kissing wars.

I remember never thinking girls were "yucky".

I remember wanting to dance with Danielle Sandobal, and wanting to kiss her in third grade.

I also remember dancing with Candace Meierdercks, and people making fun of me. And me acting like I didn't really want to do it, instead of asking her to be my girlfriend in 5th grade. She turned out to be a real "hottie" too, by all accounts. I still remember the way she smiled at me when she asked me to dance. Those cute soft little lips.

By the time I was in 7th and 8th grade, girls were like an enigma to me. I felt so uncomfortable around them, even though I wanted to be one of their boyfriends very badly.

I guess I felt like I never got them in the right environment to show them who I really was. I was always in the wrong place with the wrong lines. Or no lines at all, for that matter.

So I'm nine, and I'm already thinking that all my friends are slimeball pigs. Already objectifying women. Talking about sex, even though they had no clue of the definition of it.

I've always been attentive to women. I love the way they speak, and the twinkles in their eyes. It's sad that I've been with so few. In a way it's good, because I saved a lot of great things for the few that got a taste of me as more then a friend. I always wanted them to remember me forever. Even if we wouldn't be together for that long.

We never did find Steve's bike that day.

But I found out I was different. Not in a strange way. I just feel like I have a good understanding of people, if nothing else.

I hope when people talk to me that they feel understood, or at least feel like I'm being a good listener.

It's weird, because I usually will only give advice if I actually think I know something about the subject.

So when I don't have the answers, they get mad.

Then when I do have an answer, they disagree with me. Even though they came to me for solutions.

I guess I've always been drawn to the people who listened to me as well as I listened to them, and didn't judge me, and let me speak my mind, even if they didn't agree 100 percent.

I can see things from anyones point of view. I'm glad I can see from mine, too. I don't know if my eye sight has anything to do with me seeing the internal at a higher level, or if it was my reward for not seeing things in a shallow way.

I'm proud of my understanding, in spite of feeling misunderstood myself for so much of my life.

I will continue to try and understand why people are the way they are. I'm worried about the outcome.

- premature ejaculation | tantra +