An Encounter With a Guy in High School

All right it appears I have told this story before, but I retold it again. Repeating myself is not something I like doing, but I seem to do it a lot. I apologize.

As I have previously mentioned once or twice, I was not popular with the male sex in high school. It wasn’t until I moved 3,000 miles across the United States that guys started noticing me. And I have mentioned these guys before, but I am unsure of whether I mentioned an interesting encounter with a guy I refer to as Mud.

My younger sister (who is 22 months my junior) and I don’t have the best relationship, and we haven’t since elementary school. But there are times when I will step in and be her older sister and defend her sorry ass.

And on this day in particular, I overheard one of her close friends talking smack about her in my presence to other girls in our Childcare class. Now, I could have called this girl out on her bullshit right there in class, but I wanted to avoid our teacher being brought into this. So, I dropped it, thinking she vented her feelings and that was that. I sat at the same table with my sister and her friends, because I was pathetic and didn’t have any of my own. And rather than draw even more attention to myself for being a total loser with no one to sit with, I sat with her. So this “friend” starts her bullcrap again at the lunch table, and having had enough of her crap, I called her out. Said girl was very surprised, because I am not someone who looked or acted like someone with an opinion or loses her temper. I say my piece, and leave the lunchroom. As I leave, in walks my sister. I tell her I have defended her honor, and she gets mad at me.

With all this “I defended your ass and you can’t even thank me” emotion running through my veins, I decide to call my mom, so I have someone to vent to. That, and I am pissed that she wasn’t even glad I defended her, so I was crying a little bit. I barely got two minutes of conversation in before this guy Joe comes along and needs to use the phone. I hang up, and head for the bathroom. In my urgency to get to the bathroom, I walk right into Mud–literally.

Noticing that I have been crying, he asks me what is wrong. He crouches down, looking into my eyes, and grabbing my shoulders in a totally caring manner. I tell him I was defending my stupid-ass sister’s honor from a bitch calling her bad names, and she had the audacity to get mad. He then asks me if I am okay, and tries pulling me into a hug. I shove him off of me, and tell him to leave me alone, and stalk off to the bathroom.

Once I reach the bathroom, the reality of what just happened in the hall floods to me. A guy just tried to console me by pulling me into his arms, and I shoved him off. I smile at this realization (the hug, not shoving a guy).

And I am pretty sure I have mentioned this part before, but I’ll do it again, since it’s got to do with this guy.

After lunch, I go to Math. I happen to have Math with Mud. And from the very moment I met Mud, we had a special relationship. Mud and I seem to thrive off of the volatility we have on occasion, so when he walked into class, I knew one of two things would happen: Either he was going to pretend I didn’t exist (which I was hoping for), or he was going to bawl me out right there.

Option #2 is what happened. Mud walks into class, sees me sitting there all innocent and sad, and unleashes the Kraken of hell on me. I dislike confrontation, but as I said, I seem to get off having arguments with Mud, so I fire back at him. And for what seemed like twenty minutes, he and I were trading blows. The girls seated in the far corner from my History class are slack-jawed, Mike (who sat next to me to my right) is watching with rapt attention, and the rest of the class is watching an accident as it happens.

Eventually, we calm down and class goes on. We don’t speak for a few days after that, but everything  went back to normal afterwards. I am never really sure what Mud and I had going on, but we were strange.

Even at his graduation, it continued. I offended his mom (who was my favorite bank teller), with what I’d said at his graduation. I would have been all “Congrats, have a nice life,” but he didn’t want that. He made some quip and I think I told him to shut up. It was eleven years ago, so I don’t quite recall.


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