In yet another example of someone taking pity on my recuperation and trying to help me fill the days, a friend from high school sent me a few letters I wrote her from France the summer before I began college. I was 17 years old. If I didn't want to kill myself after I had this surgery, these letters clinched it for me. Only I can't drive to the store and buy a gun.
AUGUST 22nd
My latest flame of one and a half nites is 20 years old, nouveau riche with medium length hair named Alex.
AUGUST 31st
I’m so sad I could die. Or nearly anyway. Yes, I am back from the beach and that is why I am so sad. And it’s all because of a jerky boy. Isn’t it always?
His name is Philippe. He’s 18, has green eyes and blondish brown hair, about 5’8”, really muscular, plays tennis and swims, he has a mobylette and he drives a car. (Pretty good for a French boy to drive a car, the license is so hard to get) and he’s adorable. Ye Gods do I miss him.
One night we went to this big nightclub and Philippe started looking at all the girls. Finally, at about 11:00 pm he asked me to dance. But he didn’t (or wouldn’t) make out at all. So I figured what the hell. Then he said, “Let’s go out and sit on the swings.” So we did – he still wouldn’t make out. Then I started getting nervous. That’s when he got a brilliant idea and decided to borrow Jean-Francois’ car. He got the permission and off we went. I didn’t think anything of it – I figured – just a little parking in some remote place and then back we come. So I guessed wrong already. Well, nothing bad happened – I mean we didn’t go all the way or anything gross like that.
Well anyway – he was shocked when I said ‘no’ when he asked me to go to bed with him. Now before you drop your drawers, let me explain. In France, going to bed and performing the “acts” at my age is quite normal at my age. He said a lot of French girls do and a lot don’t. But Philippe wasn’t a boy like that. Even the nicest French boy will do it if you’re not careful. But even as much as I liked him I wouldn’t have dared going to bed with him. He knew it too and only asked me that night.
The Monday before I left Philippe took me over to his house. What wild fun. We got there and his brother was having a party in the living room so we had to go to his bedroom. It didn’t bother me because I trusted him. I thought it was kind of funny really. Then he locked the door and I stopped laughing.
September 4th
Remember Gerard? Well, he finally got rid of his albino friend and now he’s alone. But after Philippe, everyone else is like hot cross bretch. It’s gonna take me forever to get over him.
It's gonna take me forever to get over that I wrote those letters. That I used the word "bretch" in a sentence, that I don't even know what 'bretch' means and that I thought an albino friend was clearly a detriment whereas today that would be an endless source of entertainment for me.
End of chat.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
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Oh. My. You are approaching the edge. You need to do something as a perk for yourself. Okay fine, do something everyday, but you need to do something to save your sanity.
ReplyDeleteWait a minute!!! Don't do that. This is some funny shit.
Those were fantastic! Went well with the coffee at o'dawn hundred this morning.
ReplyDeleteYou sound so serious. To be that age again. What drama. That was really fun Suzy.
ReplyDeleteYou made me laugh too hard for this time in the morning you silly boy crazy girl you! Oh, but a good girl too. Seriously, if all the girls were doing it, he surely wouldn't have thought of you as a slut or anything.
ReplyDeleteYou said "No"? To a French boy? Really? I AM impressed!
ReplyDeleteWhat the fruck is a mobylette??
ReplyDeleteWhen i was in a cast I knit a very large teddy bear. How we amuse ourselves when we're housebound!
Thank god you didn't go all the way "or anything gross like that."
ReplyDeleteI think I just wet myself!
You'll all be happy to know I found an old hate letter I wrote to a girlfriend when I was 15 (?) but I never sent it to her. I also found my first Pet Diary, complete with pictures!
ReplyDeletelittle miss, a mobylette is a moped that was very popular in Europe until the late 70's.
Denise, I was a virgin until 5 months later! Lost it to a German/American boy! Didn't sexually get into French boys until later and oh my god, only the Italians do it better..
I really would hope that a true friend of mine would burn the letters!
ReplyDeleteWhat happened after he locked the door?!?
ReplyDeleteEven at 17, you were so sophisticated.
jenn, I recently found a bunch of letters that belonged to friends of mine, ones I had kept for whatever reasons. Last year or two, I sent them all back and every single person made the same comment "I haven't changed at all."
ReplyDeleteSurcie, nothing happened after he locked the door.
Why would anyone burn those wonderfully creative, beautifully illustrated letters. I would be envious of a 17 year old contemporary having such exotic adventures compared to growing up in the boring suburbs of the USA=
ReplyDelete