Chapter Four - Chris D #1

I met Chris D #1 (yeah, there's been more than one of those) at some concert of a local band. I don't remember who it was, how we met, or much else about it. Either way, I thought he was cute and we had the music thing in common.

There are really only five memories I have of the guy. I don't remember anything spectacular or freaky about the sex. Sorry to disappoint. It was just kind of a normal relationship. Well, normal for ME, anyway.

The first: He was poor - I mean, DIRT poor - and lived in a dilapidated shotgun shack in the gang-filled west end of downtown. He lived with his grandmother and his mother, sister, and nephew lived in an equally-dilapidated shack next door. The houses were so old they were falling apart and it was almost impossible for them to keep them clean. I figured the reason he always took me through the back door into the house was because his room was next that door. I went over one day and he didn't answer the back door, so I went to the front. His grandmother let me in. It looked like a scene from a horror film. It was decorated in typical "old lady" decor, but everything was coated with a thick layer of dust. Roses that were years old, turned gray from the filth. I had to walk through the kitchen to get to his room and the water heater was in the corner. There was what can only be described as a mob colony of German cockroaches huddled in the corner; thousands of them. I guess that was why Chris's room was always spotless. I thought he had OCD because he vacuumed when he got up and before bed and sprayed around his door and windows all the time.

The second: He was the first person I met that snorted flake heroin. I didn't even know there was such a thing until I met him. And I did it a few times, but decided I didn't like it. This was before Nirvana became mainstream and the Seattle thing was just beginning to get some recognition with us weird undergrounders. He claimed to have stopped doing it when I expressed my displeasure, but I'm pretty sure he kept doing it, just not when I was around.

The third: All was one of our favorite bands. We listened to the Descendants and All constantly. He sort of considered "Net" to be our song. It's still one of my favorites! Anyway, I remember so clearly when we traveled to watch All play at the Axiom in Houston and it was a magical event for us. It was just a really great show. It meant a lot to us and it meant a lot to me personally because I'd been a fan for so long.

The fourth: Every time we had sex, he would jump up right before he came and would run to the bathroom. He said it was disrespectful to ejaculate in or on a woman, and he wouldn't do it. He always just ran to the toilet and dumped it there. Interesting, huh?

The fifth: Emmitt came over one night and I was trying to get rid of him. He wouldn't go away and, at that moment, Chris called. I told Emmitt to shut the hell up before I even answered but, sure enough, as soon as I got in the middle of the "good night" conversation, Emmitt piped up, "Who is THAT?" as loud as he could. Chris freaked out, with good reason. I tried to explain what was going on but, well...it didn't work. That was the last time I spoke to him. All over a misunderstanding. And I guess he quit going to shows because I didn't see him anywhere again. Either that or he was really good at avoiding me.

Where is he now? I wanted to catch up with him several years ago, but his number was disconnected. I figured I'd go by his house. Both his house and his mother's house had been razed and replaced with $300K townhomes (isn't neighborhood revitalization awesome?). Either way, I found out that he died in 2001. I have no idea how or where. I was hoping to just catch up with him and see how he was, but that's what I found when I started digging: his death record. Died young. What do you think? Heroin? That's what I was guessing.

Next up: Chapter 5 - Paul B.
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Chapter Three - Rene

Rene was Emmitt's best friend. It was Rene's house where I first met Emmitt in the first place. I don't remember how we ended up getting together, but we did. I guess that's when they quit being friends, I suppose. We really had very little in common. I was pretty heavy into the local music scene, but he was into the club scene.

There was nothing about Rene, looking back, that was good for me. Oh, who am I kidding...I knew that then. He was a drug dealer and owned his own house at only 18. He had two GT Mustangs. He wasn't very careful about keeping his profile low-key. Maybe that was part of the attraction.

I had just started attending a private school that was extremely lenient on rules. It was a work-at-your-own-pace kind of structure (if you could call it structure), and we were required to attend classes for a certain number of hours a week, taken as we saw fit. It allowed for two hour lunches if that's what we wanted. I did that a bit too often with Rene.

What I remember most were the days he'd pick me up from school and we'd spend that time in his car, 98% of the time in the backseat. I usually had to stay at school almost all of Monday just so I could make sure I had enough spare hours to waste having tawdry sex with a loser for a couple of hours each day for the rest of the week.

The bulk of everything I remember about Rene revolves around the different parking locations over that period of time. Sometimes we'd just pull around behind the school (which was actually housed in a church), sometimes we'd go to the city park by the creek (which was across the street from an elementary school), or do other crazy things like go park in the middle of the grocery store parking lot, just to see if anyone would notice.

Please remember, I wasn't always sober; I still had a bit of a drug habit myself, and often did things that make me shudder to think about now. Once, he came to pick me up and one of his friends (i hated the guy), was in the passenger's seat, reeking of alcohol. Passed out cold. Rene and I still had sex in the backseat. I can't imagine the guy stayed passed out the whole time - I still suspect that he was just fine but Rene was trying to prove a point about how much of a freak I was - and that he was watching instead. Given Rene's affinity for exhibitionism, it wouldn't surprise me too much. Given that I typically didn't give a shit, the fact that I did it doesn't surprise me much, either.

On the weekends, I'd usually spend the nights with him. Sex was all we did. There was usually pizza and beer involved, though. Sometimes, if we were feeling particularly skanky, we'd get a 4-pack of Everclear Purple Passion.

One of the most embarrassing and freaky things that ever happened involved his pit bull, Sandy. She was a sweet dog, but she would crawl under the covers after we were asleep. Rene had an oral fixation with me and would often wake up in the middle of the night and go down on me. Do you see where this is going? Yeah. One morning, I thought it was him, but it wasn't. I figured it out pretty quickly, and I made him establish a "no dogs in the bedroom" rule from there on out.

It wasn't the quality - that's for sure - but the quantity. Bobby's emotional involvement in our relationship had fooled me into thinking that most people who slept together cared for each other. I guess I made the mistake in thinking that because Rene spent so much time and money on me that he must've actually cared about me. I think that was probably where my ridiculous idea of sex = affection began.

Eventually, he met some rich girl with a Daddy complex who was rebelling against her family hard enough to proclaim her love for Rene. He couldn't help himself; she'd been Homecoming Queen at the local high school and she had great grades and a bright future. I told him I understood (I did), and that I was okay with it (which I really was, mostly).

We still got together for a weekend marathon every once in a great while, as our lives continued on and we moved on. He moved out of town but came into town every so often. He gave his grandmother his house, which I thought was kinda nice.

There's an interesting story about how I got him to help me buy a gun when I was 17, but that might be an entry for another time. It's a fun story to tell, though.

Where is he now? I have no clue. I haven't spoken to him in probably 15 years. I'm not sure how long he was in the drug game and I haven't done anything to try to find him. No need.

Next up: Chris D.
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Chapter Two: Bobby B

My love affair with Bobby had existed pretty much since I began high school. He was the second person I was introduced to at the school and so then it began. We started seeing each other. I was still a virgin and he said he liked it, but he wasn't going to be the first one. "My father always used to say, a girl always falls in love with her first and they'll never get over it, and I believe that. I don't believe in love, though, so I can't be your first," he said. "I'm not seeing anyone else, and I can wait, but if you get the opportunity, take it. I'd love to be able to finally be with you." He was a junior, I was a freshman, and as much as I wanted him to change his mind, he wouldn't. The whole thing was kinda weird, but whatever. It wasn't like I had any better options.

I won't get into the whole thing about how much he taught me - in several arenas - but I learned more about what men like and more about drugs than I ever thought I would.

(by the way, you should always be wary of a teenager that's been given the master bedroom. i've known three of them, and they were always super-fucked up)

We dated for close to the whole school year and then we had that conversation. You know...the one that makes the sky feel as if it's falling into your stomach. He told me that he was interested in another girl and was ready to start having sex again and he didn't want to lie to me. So we broke up. And soon after that was when Emmitt came along. I still saw Bobby at school and we still hung out. We kinda started seeing each other when things with Emily didn't work out so well and they ended it only a month after they got together.

A few weeks into Emmitt, he went away on vacation with his parents for a week. And the day he left, I called Bobby. I didn't even have to tell him why I was calling; he already knew.

I remember the pink hue cast all over his bedroom from the red scarf he'd draped over the lamp. We were tired, worn out, and sweaty. His drapes swished in the breeze of the fan. The smell of incense filled the room as we smoked the cliche after-sex cigarettes. Kate Bush's angelic voice filled our ears, Bobby's hand swirling around on my back to the beat of the music. I felt so secure and so loved, wrapped up in the satin sheets, feather down comforter, and his arms. I stayed late into the night, succumbing to desire time and time again, Bobby attentive to every need and whim I had. I could feel him on my skin and smell him in my hair and when the CD changed and he mumbled softly the lyrics to "Just Like Heaven," I distinctly remember thinking, Yes. JUST like it.

That experience, that feeling...that's what I thought it was all supposed to be about. I knew he wasn't in love with me and I was okay with that. I was getting the best part of him and, much like women feel as if sex is the most precious thing to share with someone, I felt that same thing about what he was giving me: the most precious thing to share with me.

And it wasn't just about sex with us. It wasn't about a relationship, either. He got back with Emily while we were still doing our thing. And, yes, Emmitt came back but I didn't stop seeing Bobby. I did love him, just in a different way. Emmitt...there were no feelings there whatsoever, but he did things for me, so I kept it up. Eventually, Bobby decided to stop seeing me and committed himself to Emily. I was disappointed, but I understood.

But I will never forget the feeling of the carpet burns on my back, rolling around on the floor, drinking screwdrivers made with vodka given to us by his mother, jamming out to Jimi Hendrix before doing it all over again. There are so many things about that time that I don't remember, as well. That's not entirely all his fault, though.

Where is he now?

He ended up marrying Emily when she got pregnant after high school. They moved to Austin. One night when I went to the tattoo shop for some work, he showed up for a piercing. We talked for a very short while and he left. I kinda felt punched in the stomach. Then I heard nothing until about a year ago. He found me on Facebook. He'd divorced Emily - amicable breakup, they just shouldn't have gotten married - and is dating a much younger girl. They seem happy, despite some of the rockiness we talked about and, last I heard, he'd proposed to her. He's working as a mechanic in a dealership and his son is a really, really smart kid and has a killer personality - just like his parents. We spent hours talking and texting, reminiscing about all the good times and fun, and he helped fill in a ton of the blanks from my teenage years I don't remember. He's invited me to come up and spend some time with them, but I'm not really into that idea. We still talk even now, but he hasn't made it down to my part of the state yet. He hates it here - I don't blame him - but when he comes, he promised we'll get together. When we do get together, I'm sure it will be a very interesting evening.

Next up: Chapter 3: Rene, Emmitt's best friend.

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