A Beautiful Disaster

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Of among the many travesties I've had the pleasure of surviving, complete and utter heartbreak from my high school sweetheart is by far the greatest and worst I have suffered. Allow me to elaborate with a series vague references to people who name I have apparently changed. (Speak the name of Lucifer, and you give him power.)

In the ancient years of 2005-2007, I was in love with a girl who opened my world. She gave me music and my first kiss. She taught me how to love and dare I say she showed me HOW to make it. This isn't the story of triumph or how Stella got her groove back, but of a learning life's many lessons and tales. Let's talk about the time Jessie kicked my heart in the dirt.

I was a chubby black kid from Chicago, who had moved from Chicago to the suburbs and she was the white kid from a small suburb in Illinois, (that I can neither confirm, nor deny.) I was searching for something in myself that I couldn't find. I grew up different, and my friends from Chicago weren't afraid to remind me of my weirdness. I was from the worst parts of Chicago you could think of and yet and still a rose grew in the concrete jungle. When I met Jessie, I was conflicted and confused. My dark skin apparently pegged me as African- American, but my strange taste in entertainment had left me alienated and alone. She wanted to talk to my first day at my new school and waited until my sister introduced her. At the time I had a girlfriend, though now looking back I questioned the validity of it because of the comparison to "her and me."

"Hey, what's up?" Jessie simply said as she sat across from my sister and I. I still remember the pause I took as I contemplated how to respond to the white girl with the biggest ass I had ever seen. "Uhhhhh…. What’s up?” Was clearly my response. Hey, I was like 16 and clearly a poser. What would you have expected? She wasn’t deterred or put off by my mincing of words. Clearly, I had an angel who was looking out for me, in hindsight it probably was a devil.

Anyway, That's how the tragically triumphant story of my love for the walking disaster known as Jessie began. We started dating, and soon we were almost joined at the hip. At some points of time, that statement was literal.

Jessie gave me something that I was missing. She taught me that my love for music didn’t have to be isolated to only things that black people enjoyed. She told me things about punk rock and gave me confidence. It was through her that I discovered a love for Blink 182, and Motion City Soundtrack. She took me places and introduced to people. She taught me that not all white are bad and I did the same showing her that not all black men are criminals or monsters, not all of us needed to prove ourselves to the hood we were from. I fell in love with her, and it was one of the easiest things I found myself doing. I met her parents, and she met my mom. Jessie was a gateway drug, and I was I addict looking for a door. When I found her, I was hooked. We dated for a full year until we, like many teenage couples, suffered our first real hurdle.

In high school kids are mean. They say the cruelest things to get a rise out of you. A terrible rumor had sprung up that Jessie had been honestly, screwing other guys. Not just other guys but guys who had a history of spreading venereal disease like it was peanut butter on a piece of toast. Clearly, I didn't know how to respond, and some words were exchanged, tears were leaked, and strongly worded arguments happened. Long story short Jessie and I were on the rocks, and I was a single man. Now being the dumb ass I was I went looking for something else. "Gentlemen, when your girlfriend says "We are on a break" That means you are still in the relationship and SHE is the one on the break. One day I met…brandy. Brandy was another girl I had seen around school, she had always been nice, and she always held a conversation with me without a problem. Like me, Brandy had been a career relationship type, and like me, she was recently liberated. I thought what the hell, I'm single and I asked her out (Either my biggest mistake or greatest triumph), to my obvious surprise she said yes. We went out, we watched movies, and we enjoyed each other company. We dated for a while; she was cool. Now I hadn't known that whole exchange between Jessie and I left emotional damage and she had been seeing a therapist.

Honestly, I believe she had always been seeing a therapist, and they just double the prescription. Well if you believe it when word got around to Jessie that I was dating a new girl, I met a new side of Jessie I had never known. The demon, the mean streak bringer. Jessie, used every dirty rumor she could to bring Brandy down and even told Brandy's ex-boyfriend about the dating that took place. I almost came to blows with a 6'4 295 bruiser. (I’m only 5’11).

Brandy and I both admitted we didn’t need the extra problems and agreed we were better off as friends. That was the most amicable break up I had ever experienced.

Now, me being a teenage boy with a very active sexual appetite, I went back to the person I thought I was in love with. Jessie and I worked things out, and things were great…until college came. In college, it was where the story took a turn for a the dangerous and unreal. Before I go any further I have to remind you this story is normal and its apart of the high school experience. I am completely healthy, and I have a wife, two kids a dog who loves me and a cat who Accepts my presence. (still trying to get her approval)

I was a year older than Jessie, and I went to college first. I went to a college in the same state with a kid I went to high school with. The guy was a complete pothead, and he saved my life. Jessie and I had agreed to visit every other weekend and when she graduated she and I would get an apartment. SPOILER ALERT!! It never happened, it rarely does. Plans never/ rarely survive first contact with the enemy. A guy said that once and I agree. Now the enemy, in this case, was a girl I introduced Jessie to named Michelle. Michelle was a good friend, and she did what all good friends, or at least I thought she was. As soon as I left for college, Jessie filled the void that was me with Michelle. She, of course, encourage Jessie to "Go out and met new guys" In retrospect, it was good advice… if Jessie and I weren't still dating and attaching hips on a regular basis. It was during one of these hip attachments that Jessie gave me the gift that kept on giving. I'll let you all make what you will with that info while I discuss the story.

Now, at this point, I had never had sexual contact with anyone except Jessie and the thought of connecting with anyone I wasn't intending on marrying scared me shitless. The morning I went to the washroom before math, and I felt the heat and pain of gonorrhea I thought I was in hell and I was paying from some moral clause I clearly violated. If I could describe the feeling to save you from it I would describe it as such: having a steel braided wire explode slowly inside your junk and spin around while brushing up against the insides. I DESCRIBED IT FOR SEVERAL REASONS: 1: ALWAYS USE PROTECTION! and 2: TRUST NO ONE!

Needless to say, the pothead took me to the doctor, and the doctor and the doctor assumed I was college student reaping what I sowed. When I explained to her that I had only had one sexual partner she took sympathy on me and told me "If it wasn't you then it was her." I didn't want to accept that, and I waited for the results. I casually brought it up to Jessie, and she stated "it's clearly a UTI" It wasn't, and she was/ is full of shit. It was gonorrhea, and when I notified her of it (in an attempt to get her helped), She stated first, that "She didn't want to hurt me." Then she admitted there might have been some indiscretions on her part and reasoned she did these things because of the Brandy Fiasco. I was distraught more over up a creek without a paddle. I was crushed and crying and in came the pothead with wouldn’t you know it pot. I don't condone the use of drugs, but I did use drugs to get over my high school sweetheart.

I didn't break up with Jessie then. Being the dumbass that I was I tried to make it work for one more month, and the relationship didn't end until she tried to kill me. She didn't break into my apartment with a knife; she waited until we got into an argument on the expressway, while we were arguing she reached over and grabbed the steering wheel, then yelled: "I'll f@#%ing kill us both!!!" I shit you, not It came down to that. She didn't kill her or me thankfully, but she scared the hell out of me. I took her home, and that was last time I saw Jessie. It wasn't when we broke up, but it was the last time I ever looked at her.

We broke up over the phone and that time it stuck. At that point, her parents made the decision that the relationship was not healthy. I can't say I was in the right mind to agree. It hit me hard. It destroyed my confidence. I don't know what physically happened to my body but after while I couldn't keep food down. I didn't try to vomit, but every time I ate it came back up. My mother showed concern the only way a black mother could. She cursed me out and told me I needed to get myself together. At the time I didn't realize it, but I was detoxing from the world’s strongest drug "Toxic Love" It took me to my lowest point I was 164 pounds, and I was always 200+ guy. I learned something important about myself during the breakup. I found out that "If you're love someone loves yourself first" and know when to say "that's enough!"

I found ways to fill the void. Yes, I smoked weed for recreation, and I adopted a good workout ethic. I focused my time on other things. I Dated other girls and drove fast cars. I even got myself a college girlfriend (Walking chaos and another story.)

In the Long run, I met my wife nine months later, and I was in great shape. I tell this story from the perspective of a healthy married man who survived something both beautiful and terrible. I am forever grateful to the beautiful disaster known as Jessie. -L.Lane 2017

Created: May 19, 2017


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