2005-11-25 - 12:19 p.m.

Death of a Romantic (The Rosebed)

When I was young, (Ed: Yes it's one of THOSE kinds of entties so if you don't like 'em go read someone else today.) I used to be an idealist when it came to love. I really believed in it. I believe in fate. I believed in soul mates. I believed in love at first. I was naive and innocent. The problem with being naive and innocent is your susceptable to other people's opinions and beliefs.

I'm already getting a bit side tracked. My point was I used to be a huge romantic. In those days I would have spent my last few pennies on flowers for a girl who made my stomach flutter or even spend every cent I had on some sort of beautiful trinket. My mother always thought I was *crazy* to act this way. I should have gained a clue from my mother about these things but I did them anyway.

(On a side note you should know that my dad was very well off in the early days of my parents courtship and my dad showered my mom with gifts. One of them being a cedar chest that she owned all of her life and is where she kept almost every deeply sentimental object in her world.)

I couldn't give you a specific number of the amount of girls who either broke my heart of just downright ridiculed me for my displays of affection to them. Instead of being flattered by my gestured I got reactions to being introduced them as some contagious cancer or other deadly disease. "Good God, Get AWAY from me." It was awesome for my ego. NOT.

I think it was these early failures in the love department that made a tad desperate for affection and when I did find it, I spurned myself. Either right away or after time (deciding this wasn't what or who I wanted.) These years aren't really that pretty to reflect on. I think I tend to try and forget them.

Rolling back the clock even a bit further I could step back to elementary school. I didn't fit in back then either. I had an overactive imagination which I melded with reality wherever I saw fit.

It's not really a wonder that school officials thought I was some fucked up but that's an entirely different entry.

Getting back to my story, There was this girl named Angela. Angela was a rather large girl. I actually could venture a guess even though we were only in grade four she may have been the very largest kid in the school. Angela had what can only be described as the biggest crush on me and wanted to let me know no matter who else heard or knew. As I was already an outcast to the mass majority of my peers this sudden attention from the fattest chick in school wasn't quite what I was looking for. In an attempt to fit in with my peers who were making fun of me for having her attentions, I did what I could to mock her attention to me.

It's a horrendous gift 20/20 hindsight. As kids we're cruel. I don't think I realized,in fact now I know, at the time I was part of the cruel set and I was also a reject. It's not a real shock I ended up being the exiled loser later in high school years.

Angela gave me gifts. Back in the day, all of guys were into hockey card collecting. Angela found out I collected them and she gave me a bunch bathed in some perfume she had. That pretty much grossed me out. I mean, I don't think anyone in grade four would want hockey cards bathed in perfume. I mean the stench alone would drive your entire family out of your home. I threw them down on the ground and ran away at top speed. This wasn't missed by the people who loved to taunt me. I tried to laugh along with them but to them I was still the punchline to the joke.

Karma has a funny way of kicking you in the ass no matter if your a kid or your an adult. Karma isn't a discriminator it'll come bite you in the ass anytime. It would come and bite me hard, hang on and leave some sort of infection to fester for years to come.

Her name was Chantal. I actually met Chantal in grade 2 and I had a crush on her right on through to grade 7. In grade 2 she was nice enough about it but wasn't interested in me. I think it came to a head in about grade 5 which is why I figure Karma was coming back to bite me in the ass. I started trying harder to catch Chantal's attention.

One thing I remember about Chantal was that she was a figure skater and she used to have skating practice before some of my hockey games. I remember getting dressed hella fast so that I could go stand by the boards and watch my fantasy girl do her thing. You can't say I was pubescent stalker beause I was already there for my games so it was pure coincidence that we were in the same building together.

Anyway, back at school I would buy her gifts. I think I bought her a necklace at one point. Nothing fancy and I'm sure it was pretty damn cheap. A thin peice of gold that would and probably did break super easy. She was no dummy she accepted my gift but still didn't give me the time of day. My mom really did have a point but I really wasn't into listening to my mom at that point in life, I was in love dammit and I was gonna do anything to get that girl.

Unfortunately, I never got the girl and she held it over my head for the years to come as we went to the same the high school together. She would later on in those same high school years attempt to manipulate me (successfully and sometimes not) into doing things for her based on this long running insanity based crush of mine. I really had gotten over her by about grade 9 but when she brought it up I always had to admit that I had been the idiot who worshipped her for so many years because pretty much the whole world knew by then.

These were the seeds that were being planted of the weeds that were gonna slowly and most mercilessly choke the life out of my inner romantic.

"How many days has it been
Since I was born
How many days until I die
Do I know any ways
That I can make you laugh
Or do I only know how to make you cry"
Stranger In A Strange Land - Leon Russell

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