I've always wanted to write a book

about my life. I have a lot to say, and I think others could possibly learn from my experiences. I would write a chapter about every man that had an impact on my life. I was thinking about this in my Crisis class today, and realized how much material I would have to write about, Things that need to be said, but never were. I don't expect to get answers from the book, maybe healing? I don't think some things ever succeed to have "closure" as much as we may want them to. But it feels good to just get stuff out. There is so much shit that no one knows about, things I remember sometimes that I had previously forgotten. I have written so much...I used to keep journals, I still have a few. I like to look back and read the things I wrote, mostly poems, letters, or short stories. It is hard to think about the pain I was in, but I know that every pain in life makes you stronger. i was making a list of "chapters" I would have in my book today, and I realized I never talked to anyone about Ryan. I am not scared to say his name, I think he is a total sleezebag. His name was Ryan Smith...........................
For some reason, I can't remember exactly when I met Ryan. I think it was sometime during my senior year, it must have been between Josh H. and Josh L. I was working at Brook's as a back waitress. Jenn and Abby worked there, which was nice. I really missed them. Working at Brook's was exhausting. It was non-stop, and I really didn't like it. Plus I just felt weird working around all these guys I didn't know. But, it was a job, so I stuck with it...and that's how I met Ryan....No wait, I met Ryan before I started working there. Why the fuck can't I remember this shit clearly? Why is my memory so bad sometimes?????? So I met Ryan before I started working at Brook's. Now I don't remember who I met him through, maybe Kim, Jenn or Abby? Ir must have been one of them. I remember seeing him and thinking he was cute. We all ended up hanging out one night, and that is how I got to know Ryan. We became a "couple," but for some reason, I just didn't really like him. There was something about him that I just didn't like, and I never wanted to hang out with him alone. I used to call Jenna when I knew Ryan was coming over, and ask her to call me in however many minutes, so I wouldn't be alone with him.....looking back now, I see how all that foreshadowing should have warned me, but it didn't. So, Ryan lived in Davenport, actually almost by Shannon....who we will save for another time....
I don't even remember much about hanging out with Ryan, we drank a lot, partied a lot, and he wore this black leather jacket that I hated. He was cute though, I will give him that. I was nice to him, but I knew I didn't want to have sex with him. And I wasn't scared to tell him that, lol. There was a song I used to play when I was in the car with him, and I used to sing it really loud, I don't remember the name of it now, but the lyrics went, "just because I aint a virgin, doesn't mean I'm having sex with ya," lol, now that I think about it, it's pretty funny. So, yea, I used to sing that to him, and he would just roll his eyes at me and get a little offended, but I guess I just didn't really care. So here is how it ended with me and Ryan...
We went to a party at Lindsay Millea's house one night. For some reason, I feel like I had already graduated high school, but I know that isn't possible. Anyway, we were all drinking, and the PLAN was to stay at Lindsay's and Ryan KNEW that. I did NOT want to end up going home with him. I had brought my stuff to sleep at Lindsay's and everything was set. Well...about 6 beers and a half a bottle of vodka later, things got a little blurry. I remember sitting on Ryan's lap, talking to all my old high school friends, and chugging this bottle of vodka like it was water. For some reason, everyone was cheering me on, including Ryan. I do remember looking at him and saying, "this doesn't mean you are getting anything tonight," and laughing. It was still pretty early, before 1am, when Ryan decided he wanted to leave. Now at this point, Ryan had quite a bit to drink also, and I was not about to get in a car with him. I remember Lindsay yelling at him and telling him that the plan was for us to stay at her house, and that we weren't allowed to go anywhere. I remember really not wanting to go anywhere with him, and being scared because I knew he had a lot to drink also. Somehow, we ended up in my car, I don't remember how...but the next thing I knew I opened my eyes and we were driving through town past the car wash, and past where the cops always sat to catch speeders. I prayed to God we would make it to my house and not get killed. I had no idea how Ryan was driving, but maybe he wasn't as drunk as I thought he was. The next thing I remember is getting to my house, walking in my bedroom door and promptly completely knocking the dresser over and landing on top of it (lol.) I was laughing so hard, I couldn't get up. I remember Ryan picking me up and sitting me on the bed, and that is the very last thing I remember of the night. We woke up the next morning, and when I saw Ryan next to me, I was absolutely furious. We got into an argument. I wanted to know why we hadn't stayed at Lindsay's. And then I realized something and I HAD to ask.....I had to know if we had sex. his response was, "do you really not remember?" I said no. He said "um no, we didn't." And he was smiling. As I felt the need t to throw up, I reminded him that I told him many, many times that we would not be having sex. His response? "I can't believe you don't remember it." My response? Tears, and more tears, and telling him to get out of my house. Then I realized I had to drive him home because we only had my car. I drove him home, and he told me that he didn't think we should be together anymore because I didn't remember having sex with him. I couldn't fucking believe what was happening. For the next few days, I was upset. I felt like I had lost something to him, and he had won. After that, I became pissed. Really pissed.
So one night, Katy, Kathy and I...maybe Holly was there too, decided to drive by Ryan's house at 3am. We had been drinking, and went out and bought spray paint. Ryan had this wall in front of his house that was painted with some words and a flag. Well, Kathy and I decided it would be a great idea to write all over this wall with obscenities. We hopped out of the car, Katy pulled down the road, so she wouldn't call attention to us, and we started sprat painting the wall. We wrote things like "herpes, asshole," etc.... it was pretty funny at the time....until a fucking car pulled up, and Ryan jumped out of the passenger side. What fucking luck, right? So at first we tried to hide, then realized that wasn't going to work. Ryan came over to me, not seeing the wall at this point, and asked what we were doing. I told him I really needed to talk to him. At this point his dad came to the door and asked what was going on. I don't remember how, but Ryan managed to get him to go back inside. Ryan had just come home from the bars downtown, so thank God he was drunk himself, and didn't even notice the wall. I threw my arms around him and walked backwards, past the wall to the stirs that went to his front door, completely blocking what we had just done. He went inside and told us we had to leave.
2 days later I started working at Brook's. I was absolutely terrified that Ryan was going to have me arrested. He told everyone at work what I had done, but of course I didn't have the balls to tell everyone what HE had done to warrant my actions. I didn't last long at Brook's. I couldn't stand seeing his face everyday, and feeling the stares of people looking at me like I was a bitch.
I saw Ryan about 6 months after I left Brooks. He was in a girl's car pumping gas downtown. I didn't say anything to him, just looked at him, he saw me too, but neither of us said a word.
I don't think Ryan was a viscous person...he was a mistake, and maybe an asshole, but I don't think his whole plan was to get what he wanted and then leave, if that makes any sense. I think what happened was, he was scared. He realized that potentially, what he did could be constituted as rape. He got scared, and he ran. He didn't call the cops on us because he was scared of what I would tell them.
So, chalk it up as a learning experience. What else can you really call it? A chapter in my book? Maybe, if I ever write one.