Conversations With…Part One

Posted by Stereo on November 21, 2011

27 Comments

I’m going to be sharing with you all a series of conversations that have lodged in my mind over time and might even have changed my life a little bit.

He: It’s not that I don’t like you. I do. It’s just…

Me: It’s just what?

He: I think you’re really pretty too; it’s just…

Me: You’re intimidated by my academic genius? *lame laugh*

He: *laughs* No it’s not that. It’s just…well I’ve never been out with a black girl before. Or one with glasses.

Me: *weakly* We don’t bite, you know. At least not the ones north of Birmingham.

He: *laughing* See you’re brilliant. You make me laugh.

Me: Well…that’s something.

He: No other girls make me laugh.

Me: Ah so it’s just the black thing then. Oh, and the glasses.

He: I knew you’d get it. I’ve got rugby practice now. I’ll see you at the bus stop tonight?

Me: Ok.

He had delicate white-blond hair that he cut super low to offset what he perceived as the femininity of the shade. I loved to graze my fingertips over his scrubbing-brush haircut and hear him laugh and duck away from my touch. His eyes were the colour of the sky before a summer storm. I teased him about his impossibly long eyelashes that cast shadows on his cheekbones. I told him it was girly; he responded by tugging on a braid of punching me in the arm.

We sat next to each other on the coach trip to Wales; shared stories and Doritos and when I fell asleep against his shoulder, he looped an arm around me and rested his chin on my head. I woke up an hour later but feigned sleep a little longer. The sound of his heartbeat gently thudding in my ear is a memory I don’t think I’ll ever shake.

We spent hours in silence with books in hand and the TV playing softly in the background. Sometimes, he’d catch my eye and hold my gaze and in it, I’d see something that I longed for but which remained unspoken. His grin had a way of exploding over his face like a firework and drenching me in sparks.

He’d leave his cluster of friends when he saw me walk through the doors or into the common room and he’d give my arm a squeeze and wink at me; his eyelash sweeping his cheek. He told me his secrets and asked for mine. I wrapped them around my heart and handed them over.

We were something like best friends but I always thought that eventually…eventually there would be more. And I dreamed a hundred dreams of when that would happen.

I’ve never been out with a black girl before. Or one with glasses.

After that conversation, I watched him walk away. I felt like I had failed. Twice. I thought I was above the unrequited love that plagued so many teenage girls. I scolded myself even as I held back tears. I caught a later bus. And that weekend, I went to the opticians and got contact lenses. There was nothing I could do about my skintone so I cried instead.

I didn’t hold it against him but maybe I should have. He phrased it as best he could and blindsided me with his eyes and the hint of a dimple in his left cheek, but what he was saying was that he was scared. Scared of being judged for dating the only black girl in school. Scared of what his friends would say if he announced me, the tall, bespectacled girl with the braids as his girlfriend. He wasn’t ready for what assumed would be severe social ramifications.

Three weeks later, he was dating my friend. I can still pinpoint the moment my heart shattered.

Our friendship limped on for a while. He still came to me in the morning and squeezed my arm. But I drew away. I built a wall that he tried and failed to traverse. I found another boyfriend and started wearing my glasses again. He sent me a note after we hadn’t spoken for a month and told me he missed me.

By then, I couldn’t forgive him.

~

It’s been quiet in these parts of late. Dust has settled, spiderwebs have been spun. I apologise. I suffered through a terrible bout of flu and bronchitis that robbed me of my energy and played havoc with my sleeping pattern and the week after, my focus was dedicated to the completion of NaNoWriMo. I’m making something of a comeback now; thinking of new topics for the blog and daring to lay myself if not bare then certainly scantily clad for my readers. I’ve missed this.

27 Comments

• 
  Kim November 21, 2011 at 15:25

  I wonder how often he’s regretted that, and how profoundly. You haven’t said how young he was, but I know he must have been young enough not to have yet been hurt as deeply. (I wonder, too, if part of his fear was not just what his friends would say, but his family. Not to excuse him, but that would be a deeper fear if there were bigots within.)

  And of course he missed you. Life without you after knowing you would be dire indeed.

  It feels strange to say this is a lovely post, but it is, and so sharply painful.

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  Stereo Reply:
  November 28th, 2011 at 15:16

  I wonder too from time to time. We were young. He was a year older than me – 18. For a while, I wondered if it was because he thought his family wouldn’t approve but his parents loved me and his mum used to text me and ask me when she’d see me again so I had to reason that it couldn’t be them. Or perhaps it was and friendship was fine but a relationship would have caused problems? Who knows.

  It was horrifically painful at the time. I didn’t think I could or would recover. I did, of course but it certainly changed me.

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• 
  M. A. Brotherton November 21, 2011 at 15:40

  I just want to smack him on the back of the head and go, “IDIOT! You’re missing out on great things.”

  I’m betting that he thinks the same thing from time to time.

  I don’t want to justify his actions, but fear, especially social fear, for a teenage boy is a pretty powerful motivation. I think you understood his motives exactly, but I’m not sure you can ever really understand the impact that has, or how often you regret it later in life.

  I wish, sometimes, that I lived in a time period where we still raised young people with the knowledge the courage and adventure were more important than anything else, and even if you fail, even if you die because you failed, you still get to have giant post-life orgies in heaven.

  Yep… post-life orgies are an excellent motivator for teenage boys.

  Sorry, I ramble.

  Long story, short, Adult that dude is probably wishing he could go back in time and kick teenage that dude in the jimmies. I know I would be if I were him.

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  Roxanne Reply:
  November 22nd, 2011 at 23:01

  Post-life orgies. You’re killin’ me, Brotherton.

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  Stereo Reply:
  November 28th, 2011 at 15:20

  I think social fear for most teens is a huge thing. There are decisions I made or didn’t make based solely on how they would impact on my social standing in school and among my peers so trust me, I do get it. I had just hoped it would be different. I reasoned that he liked me enough to spend all that time with me and act the way he did without repercussions and thought the “backlash”, whatever it was wouldn’t be anything that wouldn’t blow over in a couple of days when the next piece of school gossip came along.

  Still, I was young and thought I’d never recover from my broken heart. I did. But the whole thing soured me for a long time.

  You’re too sweet to say that you would have regretted it if you were him. I prayed that he would and constructed all kinds of elaborate love reconciliation scenes in my head. Yeah, never happened.

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• 
  dominique November 21, 2011 at 16:09

  “I wrapped them around my heart and handed them over.” – isn’t this always the case? beautiful way to put it.

  i think it’s really important that you share these stories, these slight bits of unintentional (i think, anyway) prejudice. a friend of mine once called these “microaggressions”. i believe that any group of people that traditionally suffers from prejudice has instances of these and may not fully understand how not ok it is – until they hear each others’ stories.

  also, i’m glad you’re back on the blog horse. i’ve missed uncletypewriter popping up in my reader.

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  Stereo Reply:
  November 28th, 2011 at 15:23

  “Microaggressions” is a brilliant phrase. I think it describes perfectly what was going on here. Although at the time, if you’d said that to me, I would have fallen on you in a fit of rage and tears and then never forgiven you. Drama queen? Moi?

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• 
  Brad November 21, 2011 at 17:53

  “I knew you’d get it.”
  Sigh…. such a bloody shame he really didn’t.

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  mark Reply:
  November 21st, 2011 at 18:04

  This reaction matches mine. Almost to the ‘T’

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  Stereo Reply:
  November 28th, 2011 at 15:24

  He didn’t, did he?

  Didn’t stop me hoping he would though. I think I became belligerent after the contact lenses and moved from heartbreak to just wanting to curse him out. That lasted about a week and then the heartbreak came back.

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• 
  Alana November 21, 2011 at 19:00

  Oh this is gorgeous in its heart-shattering way. It’s those moments that shape us, for better or worse and to be able to write about them so skillfully, so beautifully…I bow to you. I have a feeling I’m going to love this new series.

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  Stereo Reply:
  November 28th, 2011 at 15:25

  *hugs* thank you, Alana.

  Difficult to write but important too I think.

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• 
  Brandee November 21, 2011 at 19:31

  I could just cry. How sad that he couldn’t pluck up the courage to overcome his own irrational fear and prejudice. On second thought, he didn’t deserve you.

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  Stereo Reply:
  November 28th, 2011 at 15:26

  This made me tear up a little, Brandee! Lol.

  That’s what my sister kept telling me when I would throw myself on her bed crying and shouting incoherently about the whole situation. You’re both right, of course but at the time, I truly did think it was the end of the world.

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• 
  Patti November 22, 2011 at 01:16

  Wow. Gorgeous and sad.

  He probably has rosacea by now and broken blood vessels on his nose. Plus, I wish a pox upon him.

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  Stereo Reply:
  November 28th, 2011 at 15:28

  LMAO comment of the freakin’ day.

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• 
  Jason November 22, 2011 at 15:23

  I bet, in his memories of this day, he still wishes he had been brave enough to accept you as the wonderful and beautiful woman I have come to know. I imagine he has a list of regrets that has your name on it, but frankly, you shouldn’t let this bother you. He wasn’t good enough for you. You deserve much better than a coward who thinks of what people will think before he thinks of what he feels. Any man worth his salt would have shouted his undying love for you from the nearest rooftop and taken you in his arms straight away.
  Besides, by now I bet he has a tattoo of a unicorn on the small of his back.

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  Stereo Reply:
  November 28th, 2011 at 15:30

  Would you just…come to London please?

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• 
  Roxanne November 22, 2011 at 23:06

  Are we allow to say “what an idiot?” What an idiot!

  I couldn’t agree more with Dominique — it is important to share these stories and you do it in such a powerful way. I know we do not need to learn something from pain and hurt every time, but perhaps sharing them can be a lesson for others.

  On a more uplifting note, I’m really looking forward to the conversations series continuation! Can we lobby for a “Conversations with…myself on the train?” From the glimpses into them through your tweets, I know they’d be hilarious.

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  Stereo Reply:
  November 29th, 2011 at 09:47

  Conversations with myself on the train…this could be brilliant, Roxanne. It really could. It could also be massively tongue-in-cheek in the most hilarious way possible. And I think you would enjoy both

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• 
  Noel November 23, 2011 at 17:08

  I almost threw up in my mouth when I read his response. I agree with Alana–it was such a heartbreakingly beautiful post. I have no doubt he looks back on that time in his life now and has such total and utter regret. And if he doesn’t, then he’s a jackass.

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  Stereo Reply:
  November 29th, 2011 at 09:50

  Thank you, Noel. Sometimes (not often, mind you ) I wonder if he ever thinks about me and has regrets. He DID try to add me as a friend on Facebook about a month ago but his request is just sitting there. I don’t know what to do with it.

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• 
  Tracy Mangold November 24, 2011 at 02:05

  If he could only hear or have heard how he sounded when he said those things. He’d probably smack himself upside the head with a shovel – or at least one would hope.
  Years can pass and life goes on to better people and better things but somehow – those moments even so long ago still stick and still sting from time to time – I know my own personal experiences with love certainly do. Hugs. Well done, Onyi. Well done. Looking forward to this series!

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  Stereo Reply:
  November 29th, 2011 at 09:55

  “…with a shovel…” lmao this made me laugh out loud, Tracy, thank you. I’m glad that everyone seems to be responding well to this series. It certainly is difficult yet freeing to write.

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• 
  Steven Andrew November 28, 2011 at 16:18

  This is so sad but in the end, he missed out on something great. I am in love with the way you write, you’re amazing.

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  Stereo Reply:
  November 29th, 2011 at 09:53

  I love that you enjoy my writing! I plan on doing a post listing my best new 2011 blogging finds and best believe you’ll be up there

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• 
  kelly December 2, 2011 at 01:31

  yes, only love can break your heart…. especially when you are young.

  it is sad that he wasn’t as brave as he was beautiful.

  but this? “His grin had a way of exploding over his face like a firework and drenching me in sparks.” that is some beautiful writing.

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