Status: a continual Work in progress
The Real Story
A Little History...
December 12th 7:45 pm (PST)
It’s been a slow and long time coming but he took me on a date, probably for the first time in months- well years I should say. And to be honest, it couldn’t have been more awkward or nerve-racking. I guess the nerves could be chalked up to the fact that he was my first… for everything.
-My first love, kiss, boyfriend, first time, heart break, and everything you could possibly conceive.
I can’t even remember the last date we had. Maybe what I call dates don’t even count because we were never alone. So tonight, there was a thick fog of clumsy air that was divided only by the two of us, not the 10 or 15 in the entire entourage that I learned to expect when we “went out”. The awkward tension filled the room with graceless small talk and desperate glances for clues to act better. Almost like we were so obviously trying to cheat on a quiz together by using the posters on the walls.
“Well, I guess I suck at this…”
As per usual I tried breaking the icy tundra, but failed to even scratch it.
“I do too…”
He added almost saddened that he couldn’t pretend to be the over confident rocker he once presented to me and the rest of the world. We sat there for hours; days it seemed. So awkward, so uncomfortable. We just looked like two cats caught in the rain; we worked against each other like pieces of sand paper scraping against each other for so long, we forgot or never learned how to be tender towards each other. I guess the only thing that held us together for as long as it did was a toxic history and sex.
“You know…”
He started and trailed off trying to follow a thought that didn’t want to be caught.
“… You never really told me why or how you became a fan of the band”
I just looked at him; nervous, worried about what he’d think, and realistically kind of embarrassed to be honest with you.
“Well…”
I started, trying to compose myself and find the least embarrassing way to explain my experience with fandom. (Not easy in the least, might I add!)
“… I guess it all started about 12 years or so ago.”
11:45 pm (EST)
Yes it did actually take me this long to compose a useful thought….
“So you were 6…”
He said after several long, puzzled minutes. Great, here we go with his judgement on my personal sanity.
“Yeah. I know awful young… but I’ve always understood more than the aver-“
“No it’s just I didn’t think a young kid from Rotterdam knew about me and my band way back when we were starting out.”
Slightly relieved, I relaxed a little.
“I had a friend who had a ton of crazy connections to Chicago and got me a bunch of unauthorized demos, magazine articles, and stuff.”
He seemed to be okay; just nodding away as I explained how I found out about him and the guys. He let me tell him everything. He actually cared. He made me feel so important, and I could feel my heart beating, palms sweating, my stomach filling up with the butterflies for the first time in so long. Is this what falling all over again is supposed to feel like? If so, good. He seemed to be feeling it too. We even eventually got to the point of him letting me explain the original internet drama that sparked our original flames.
“So, your twitter handle wasn’t being controlled by you when I was getting all of that fucked up shit?”
He was genuinely interest for once… Oh and to make an incredibly ridiculous, awkward, long story short:
I was in 10th grade, I made a friend out of a girl who had no one. She was an outcast like me and I felt for her. However, I quickly learned about why she had no one, and that is because she has an addictive personality and tends to absorb other people’s individual traits and unique qualities to then become that person. She tried to be me and hacked in to all of my personal accounts, especially twitter. She took advantage of the fact that I didn’t understand twitter like I do now, I thought it was just like Myspace, as well as my crush on dear Mr. Wentz… She tweeted him nasty, degrading messages regarding: rape, STDs, race, homophobia, and generally everything you can think of that would be completely considered publicly indecent. All of which he blamed me, even after I apologized a million or so times. (Don’t ask how it is possible we got together after this gross incident- I still have no idea…)
“Yeah- I felt so bad. None of what that psycho sent you, I stand for.”
“Wow- that is such a relief. I was afraid that you were against my beliefs and heritage for real. That’s why I’ve never had you meet my family.”
Then suddenly, it donned on me… I appeared to be as much of an asshole to him as he did to me, especially since we never stopped to get to know one another. I couldn’t help but be overwhelmed with so much grief.
“Oh my god. I never realized. Hon, I’m so sorr-“
I sat quietly failing to catch myself. My flood gates fell to ruin, streams running the landscape of my face.
“Baby, are you okay… sweetheart?”
He cooed as he swiftly moved to my side of our conference table.
“I just never thought about how much of a misunderstanding there had been surrounding us… And I’m so sorry. I was just as wrong. I should’ve stopped and just told you about me…”
Completely inconsolable, that’s what I was, just so completely shaken.
“Babe, you know I was too fucked up to listen to you. I was so blinded by what I wanted to know and wasn’t allowing anything else to change what I knew. And how were you to know what I needed to hear. I wasn’t communicating to you or to anyone.”
We just sat and cried together, the restaurant closed around us.
It’s been a slow and long time coming but he took me on a date, probably for the first time in months- well years I should say. And to be honest, it couldn’t have been more awkward or nerve-racking. I guess the nerves could be chalked up to the fact that he was my first… for everything.
-My first love, kiss, boyfriend, first time, heart break, and everything you could possibly conceive.
I can’t even remember the last date we had. Maybe what I call dates don’t even count because we were never alone. So tonight, there was a thick fog of clumsy air that was divided only by the two of us, not the 10 or 15 in the entire entourage that I learned to expect when we “went out”. The awkward tension filled the room with graceless small talk and desperate glances for clues to act better. Almost like we were so obviously trying to cheat on a quiz together by using the posters on the walls.
“Well, I guess I suck at this…”
As per usual I tried breaking the icy tundra, but failed to even scratch it.
“I do too…”
He added almost saddened that he couldn’t pretend to be the over confident rocker he once presented to me and the rest of the world. We sat there for hours; days it seemed. So awkward, so uncomfortable. We just looked like two cats caught in the rain; we worked against each other like pieces of sand paper scraping against each other for so long, we forgot or never learned how to be tender towards each other. I guess the only thing that held us together for as long as it did was a toxic history and sex.
“You know…”
He started and trailed off trying to follow a thought that didn’t want to be caught.
“… You never really told me why or how you became a fan of the band”
I just looked at him; nervous, worried about what he’d think, and realistically kind of embarrassed to be honest with you.
“Well…”
I started, trying to compose myself and find the least embarrassing way to explain my experience with fandom. (Not easy in the least, might I add!)
“… I guess it all started about 12 years or so ago.”
11:45 pm (EST)
Yes it did actually take me this long to compose a useful thought….
“So you were 6…”
He said after several long, puzzled minutes. Great, here we go with his judgement on my personal sanity.
“Yeah. I know awful young… but I’ve always understood more than the aver-“
“No it’s just I didn’t think a young kid from Rotterdam knew about me and my band way back when we were starting out.”
Slightly relieved, I relaxed a little.
“I had a friend who had a ton of crazy connections to Chicago and got me a bunch of unauthorized demos, magazine articles, and stuff.”
He seemed to be okay; just nodding away as I explained how I found out about him and the guys. He let me tell him everything. He actually cared. He made me feel so important, and I could feel my heart beating, palms sweating, my stomach filling up with the butterflies for the first time in so long. Is this what falling all over again is supposed to feel like? If so, good. He seemed to be feeling it too. We even eventually got to the point of him letting me explain the original internet drama that sparked our original flames.
“So, your twitter handle wasn’t being controlled by you when I was getting all of that fucked up shit?”
He was genuinely interest for once… Oh and to make an incredibly ridiculous, awkward, long story short:
I was in 10th grade, I made a friend out of a girl who had no one. She was an outcast like me and I felt for her. However, I quickly learned about why she had no one, and that is because she has an addictive personality and tends to absorb other people’s individual traits and unique qualities to then become that person. She tried to be me and hacked in to all of my personal accounts, especially twitter. She took advantage of the fact that I didn’t understand twitter like I do now, I thought it was just like Myspace, as well as my crush on dear Mr. Wentz… She tweeted him nasty, degrading messages regarding: rape, STDs, race, homophobia, and generally everything you can think of that would be completely considered publicly indecent. All of which he blamed me, even after I apologized a million or so times. (Don’t ask how it is possible we got together after this gross incident- I still have no idea…)
“Yeah- I felt so bad. None of what that psycho sent you, I stand for.”
“Wow- that is such a relief. I was afraid that you were against my beliefs and heritage for real. That’s why I’ve never had you meet my family.”
Then suddenly, it donned on me… I appeared to be as much of an asshole to him as he did to me, especially since we never stopped to get to know one another. I couldn’t help but be overwhelmed with so much grief.
“Oh my god. I never realized. Hon, I’m so sorr-“
I sat quietly failing to catch myself. My flood gates fell to ruin, streams running the landscape of my face.
“Baby, are you okay… sweetheart?”
He cooed as he swiftly moved to my side of our conference table.
“I just never thought about how much of a misunderstanding there had been surrounding us… And I’m so sorry. I was just as wrong. I should’ve stopped and just told you about me…”
Completely inconsolable, that’s what I was, just so completely shaken.
“Babe, you know I was too fucked up to listen to you. I was so blinded by what I wanted to know and wasn’t allowing anything else to change what I knew. And how were you to know what I needed to hear. I wasn’t communicating to you or to anyone.”
We just sat and cried together, the restaurant closed around us.
♠ ♠ ♠
Alright so- As most of everything in this is still false. HOWEVER! My issue with the girl you'll read about actually did happen, and I did have a very awkward and upsetting twitter exchange with Pete Wentz. It was awful, but actually we ended up on fabulous terms. He was so cool about the whole thing and was super kind about it. So gracious in accepting my desperate apology. He totally understood what happened when I explained it in my millions of apology messages. We are actually fairly cool now. Also, My connections to Chicago is definitely a real thing or at least was when I was literally 6. Basically the narrator is an alter ego of me, without being a complete alter ego, and shares a lot of things with me, probably to a fault.