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© 2004-2008 Linda Escaip
"I may be grumpy, but I like you."
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The Suns and Moons of the Grumpiest Girl in the Room.
Welcome to my journal, hammy.
Some Girls 31-July-2005 11.55 p.m.
I remembered ole Katty Ratfingers the other day, the female rapist from high school. My life is slowly flashing before my eyes. I'll be going about my day when out of nowhere a memory will appear, almost as bright and crisp as it looked when it was happening however long ago. Katty was about as considerate as a boil, especially after she concocted that plan to deflower my friend against his will.
I couldn't tell you what she was doing in that particular class with us: she seemed to fancy herself far above us charming geeks. Katty was one of the popular people. And obviously selfish and devious. It was her senior year and she was planning to have sex with her boyfriend for the first time, who she didn't want to find out that she was really a virgin. I guess in darling Miss Ratfinger's world, virgins were not prized conquests. She had apparently told her boyfriend she was worldly like the most coveted of whores.
She decided she needed to have sex with some other guy, and fast, to do away with of the evidence of her virginity. So, instead of asking some willing guy—like she couldn't have found more than several happy volunteers—she came up with this plan to "seduce" my friend Oliver, who was also a virgin. She called together a bunch of us younger girls, just knowing we'd be steeped in giddiness over having been chosen to help her carry out her scheme. We were all pretty nervous around Katty, mostly because she was not the nicest nun at the park.
The majority of us felt uneasy about what she planned to do, which was to get Oliver drunk at an upcoming class party, have two of us lure him to her house, which was around the corner from where the party would be taking place, and lead him into the bathroom where she would be waiting to jump on him and ride him to the end of her chastity. And his. She claimed to have chosen him because he was "nice," but clearly Oliver had been selected because he was completely non-threatening and could most likely be easily manipulated, especially when drunk. And he knew no one in her circle of friends.
There were a couple of biddable girls who found the whole idea of "working" for Katty Ratfingers a huge thrill, something to add to their future resumes despite the fact that Oliver was their friend and they possessed the common sense to know that what they were getting into was wrong. They were like good little soldiers, dutifully rehearsing their roles in their heads, and chatting excitedly to each other about the upcoming event. The rest of us were silently planning our own strategy to knock Katty's plan off course.
We chose not to blab Katty's plan to Oliver, and the reason for this is hardly a mystery: we feared the wrath of Ratfinger. It could have proven ugly and frightening, considering that her current stash of humanity seemed to be in short supply. We were confident our attempt to derail her little project would be successful, and felt Oliver was safe in our assumption.
The night of the party arrived. I had parked as planned way off on some dark residential street, a seemingly safe distance from Katty's house and the house where the party was held. It was my job to entice a probably very drunk Oliver to follow me to my car at a specific time, which was probably about fifteen minutes prior to Katty and her crew getting a hold of him. There I would engage him in dazzling conversation for an hour or so, causing her plan to fizzle due to her parents' likely return home.
Oliver had never been drunk prior to that evening, and it turned out that alcohol made him hyper. Normally his energy level was high, but with a bit of sauce in his bloodstream he was all lit up. It was no cinchy task discreetly getting him to take a walk with me. He was bouncing off the walls. But somehow I managed it, having to coax him back to the intended path to my car several times along the way. Everything was fascinating to him in his drunken state. He'd run off to explore some ivy and I would run after him and encourage him to continue walking with me. We finally made it to the car.
You know, it's hard to have a decent conversation with a hyper drunk person. Why the plan wasn't for me to drive off and take him to my house or something I will never know. But it's probably better I didn't do that since he may well have jumped out of the moving car. He was bouncing up and down on the seat like a nervous little kid, anxious to get back to the party where he didn't want to miss anything, and Katty was being so nice to him and he was enjoying the attention.
I started talking about something in the glove compartment. I have no idea what but it grabbed his interest, whatever it was. I leaned over and began fishing through it for this imaginary item. The light in that glove box had been burned out for ages, so I had that mystery working for me.
"I know it's in here."
I continued to rummage through it madly.
"Wait! Oh, no, that's not it."
I went on talking about this secret object, trying to attract more of his attention as I touched the same papers and sunglasses repeatedly in the dark. He carried on with his fidgety bouncing and frequent announcements that he wanted to go back to the party, that he wanted to see Katty. I assured him he simply had to see this whatever-it-was to believe it. This went on a few more minutes until I finally admitted defeat: my mom must have removed it from the car.
I reverted back to conversation. He had his hand on the door handle, ready to escape. I talked nervously about anything that came to mind. Within a few minutes his energy level and restlessness had skyrocketed and he flew open the door and went running down the street, arms flailing, happy to be free. Goodbye Oliver's virginity.
The following Monday at school Oliver was perfectly mortified. Katty Ratfinger's plan had been carried out with the ease of a CIA maneuver. He looked tired and a bit broken, and was deeply mournful as he told me the details. She and her helpers had managed to get him into a horizontal position on the bathroom floor, Katty straddling him while the other girls made their exit. He couldn't believe what was happening. He had always wanted to have sex for the first time with someone he loved. He had wanted it to be special and not some forced, calculated endeavor in some opportunistic girl's guest bathroom.
One of two things prompted Katty's apology: either she felt remorseful or she was fearful that her romp in the loo would get back to her boyfriend, because just about everyone in the class knew at that point. I'd like to believe it was the former but suspect the latter. But the underlying inspiration for her apology wasn't important because Oliver felt somewhat better after she said she was sorry. It took days for him to regain his usual witty, goofy, cheerful self, but he got there eventually.
I still feel bad about not coming right out and telling him when I first heard the plan. I wish I could do that over.
Quote From My World
"Defensiveness has been given a bad rap. Like eggs."
Well, I'm off to see if I qualify to be an official Bugaloo. I have wings and stuff and know the song by heart! Thanks for reading.
Linda
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