Perhaps the stirrings I felt at times were nothing more than my raging hormones. Sure, sex was an integral part of the drug culture on the streets and the sexual revolution was going full steam ahead about the time I became sexually active. By the time I made my way to Kinsman Hall, I had become pretty promiscuous. In fact, I developed what could be described as a typical male attitude towards sex even though I was a female and the longer I was clean the more alive my senses became. I thought about ways of having sex without getting caught in the act, but those opportunities never seemed to happen and I never stayed interested in anyone long enough to score a little action in some out of the way place.
To be honest, I was never sent to any out of the way location because I was considered a high flight risk from day one and stayed that way until I left Kinsman Hall. Just call me Harry Houdini! If you need any references call Stevens School for Girls. It was difficult being attracted to someone and to not cross that line and break the rules, but sneaking around seemed like too much of a hassle to me. No one interested me enough to make me want to jump through hoops and find a way to taste the forbidden fruit.
My first attraction consisted of fooling around a little in my first marathon about six months after I entered the program. The person I ended up fooling around with wasn’t even the object of my affection. He was a friend of Charlene’s on the outside. She had a thing with his older brother, Bob for awhile, but it ended long before Kinsman Hall. Ron was tall and dark, but didn’t have the kind of personality I really liked. His ego had been well developed long before he hit Kinsman Hall and I could tell that he thought he was better than most people or at least that's how I read his actions.
My first attraction consisted of fooling around a little in my first marathon about six months after I entered the program. The person I ended up fooling around with wasn’t even the object of my affection. He was a friend of Charlene’s on the outside. She had a thing with his older brother, Bob for awhile, but it ended long before Kinsman Hall. Ron was tall and dark, but didn’t have the kind of personality I really liked. His ego had been well developed long before he hit Kinsman Hall and I could tell that he thought he was better than most people or at least that's how I read his actions.
On the outside, I’d be the type of girl he’d go slumming with, but I wouldn’t have been asked to the country club on Saturday night with the family. That was okay because I knew how to handle guys like that. He was cold...distant and definitely wasn’t the kind of guy with whom a solid relationship could be built at least not with me, but he was good enough for some harmless foreplay while I fantasized about Terry. I'm sure Ron didn't mind the couple handjobs he got while I fantasized about Terry.
Terry and I would pass the time away during the day in the marathon while others had their turn on the mat. We’d played cards, sing songs together in barely more than a whisper to each other or write notes back and forth insatiably flirting with each other. We played a cat and mouse game with the lyrics of songs. We even used lyrics of songs that we really didn’t like....it was the words that mattered more than who sang the song or what it sounded like. Once in awhile, we’d just give each other a “that was really lame” look and then roll our eyes in disapproval.
I started laughing loud enough to be told by Jack Palmer, the head therapist to quiet down. For some reason the thought of Terry singing up on stage like Michael Jackson amused the hell out of me. Imagining that high falsetto voice and smooth dance moves, made my outburst worth the reprimand I got. I couldn’t wait to add his name to sing a song list during morning meeting. They’d be great wailing and gnashing of teeth by everyone, but like everyone else who had their name added on the clipboard, saying “no” was NOT an option. If the crowd chanted your name, you sang a song or if someone added your name to the morning meeting list on the clipboard kept in the Main Area, you entertained the fam by exercising your vocal chords. I'm sure Terry would kill me and I couldn't wait!
“Hey Goggins, we’re trying to do something here. If you want to be disruptive, you can do it elsewhere. The door is right over there. Feel free to laugh as loud as you like while you’re washing dishes, okay?”
“I’m sorry, Jack...it won’t happen again.”
And just as soon as all eyes weren’t on us, I elbowed Terry so he’d read the note I just wrote.
Stop trying to get me in trouble!
He smiled and pointed back to the Jackson Five lyrics he just wrote.
It was during those sweet, innocent exchanges we started to build a bridge, but I knew it wouldn’t be looked on with favor, so at those times when no one was watching it was Ron who saw my availability and cashed in on it. It was easier to be physical with someone I didn’t really like than to wait until Terry was off by himself and let some incidental contact like brushing up against him happen to entice some real hands on activity. Females are such wenches! Aren’t they?
I think I was scared to death to let myself really feel anything positive for someone especially not a male, so it was easier just to let what was innocent flirting stay innocent flirting. Terry was the youngest son of the Marino clan, a proud Irish family. His three older brothers were also residents at Kinsman Hall. They all wore their Irish heritage like a badge of honor and I have to admit it was a badge that looked great on each of them. All four were likeable in their own way and very loyal in not only their relationships with each other, but with anyone who became their friend. Terry’s charm was in his boyish good looks and award winning smile. He was the type that might under any other circumstances charm the pants right off me, but I made sure what transpired between he and I would always be looked upon with a smile and not with regret. Many people come into our lives and then remain there always in our memories. I’m glad Terry and I flirted with disaster and then remained friends.
My next stirring came on gradually. George had the same kind of innocence Terry had, but he had an extra twist that caught my eye. He knew how to play the guitar. No, I wasn’t the groupie type. I simply respect people who have abilities I don’t possess. Jimmy, one of my hometown friends and runners up to becoming my first love introduced me to that respect. He could listen to a song once and then just play it as if he had played it a dozen times. I've always been in awe of anyone who can play music by ear. It's such an incredible talent to have and one I wish I had.
When George and I started talking, it was while we worked on the same crew. We ate at the same time and before too long we started sitting with each other during free time. On Saturday nights when we were forced to dance. George always asked me to dance. We even slow danced a few times, if that’s what you could call it. It was more like two people swaying self-consciously to the music being awkwardly aware of the required distance between them. I often wondered if he ever knew I wanted him to hold me closer. These are the types of things that I left unanswered. George and I remained friends, but stopped spending as much time together. I suppose it was me who pulled back...it usually was. I was a master at constructing walls. My first love, Wayne told me that people who have walls of stone have a wall that certain things can still penetrate. He claimed that I build walls made of rubber so that everything would bounce off them. I suppose he was one who should know best since my walls were something he provided material to build.
Stacy was different. He wasn't on my radar when he first arrived at Kinsman Hall. I had already been a resident for over a year by the time Stacy came on the scene. He wasn’t someone who I had really "noticed" before that day in the dishpan and then BOOM. He had me from the time he playfully snapped my sweet, young ass with a wet dish towel. Stacy just didn’t seem like the type who had a softer side, but he certainly loved to play...and flirt. He seemed more like the type who would purposely avoid doing anything overtly romantic. Nothing about him seemed like it was soft and tender, but he surprised me with the invasiveness of his warmth and proved me wrong. He might have been a bad boy, but he was a bad boy with a heart.
And then there was Bruce and for the first time in my life I allowed myself to feel something adult or what I thought was adult. I had found someone who made me think of houses and children and growing old together. Bruce was what someone might think of when they thought of what an intellectual hippie might look and act like. He was college educated and opened my mind to many things. I wanted him to touch what he had stirred inside me and I was convinced if he ever did that, we’d find some way to overcome all of life’s obstacles and always stay together. The marathon that brought Bruce and I together was many things to many people. For me, it was an awakening, a challenge, a game and yes, it was also painful and brought about an ending I feared and dreaded. I allowed myself to love again...to trust and to want more. For me, that was a major accomplishment even though I had feelings for not one but two guys at the same time. Both pulled at my heart strings in different directions and ultimately, I had to make a decision which way I would go.
When I first arrived at the Marathon Cabin, I was there for fun and games. My friends were starting to leave the program. With each departure I felt a little more alone and uncertain of what my future would bring. My 18th birthday was growing near and for me, that meant certain freedom. This long, strange trip that lasted two years had been aimed at that impending freedom and not having a clue as to what I was going to do with it was weighing heavily on me as the time fast approached for me to leave.
Terry and I would pass the time away during the day in the marathon while others had their turn on the mat. We’d played cards, sing songs together in barely more than a whisper to each other or write notes back and forth insatiably flirting with each other. We played a cat and mouse game with the lyrics of songs. We even used lyrics of songs that we really didn’t like....it was the words that mattered more than who sang the song or what it sounded like. Once in awhile, we’d just give each other a “that was really lame” look and then roll our eyes in disapproval.
A B C , It's easy as
1 2 3 , as simple as
do re mi, A B C, 1 2 3
baby you and me girl
I started laughing loud enough to be told by Jack Palmer, the head therapist to quiet down. For some reason the thought of Terry singing up on stage like Michael Jackson amused the hell out of me. Imagining that high falsetto voice and smooth dance moves, made my outburst worth the reprimand I got. I couldn’t wait to add his name to sing a song list during morning meeting. They’d be great wailing and gnashing of teeth by everyone, but like everyone else who had their name added on the clipboard, saying “no” was NOT an option. If the crowd chanted your name, you sang a song or if someone added your name to the morning meeting list on the clipboard kept in the Main Area, you entertained the fam by exercising your vocal chords. I'm sure Terry would kill me and I couldn't wait!
“Hey Goggins, we’re trying to do something here. If you want to be disruptive, you can do it elsewhere. The door is right over there. Feel free to laugh as loud as you like while you’re washing dishes, okay?”
“I’m sorry, Jack...it won’t happen again.”
And just as soon as all eyes weren’t on us, I elbowed Terry so he’d read the note I just wrote.
Stop trying to get me in trouble!
He smiled and pointed back to the Jackson Five lyrics he just wrote.
It was during those sweet, innocent exchanges we started to build a bridge, but I knew it wouldn’t be looked on with favor, so at those times when no one was watching it was Ron who saw my availability and cashed in on it. It was easier to be physical with someone I didn’t really like than to wait until Terry was off by himself and let some incidental contact like brushing up against him happen to entice some real hands on activity. Females are such wenches! Aren’t they?
I think I was scared to death to let myself really feel anything positive for someone especially not a male, so it was easier just to let what was innocent flirting stay innocent flirting. Terry was the youngest son of the Marino clan, a proud Irish family. His three older brothers were also residents at Kinsman Hall. They all wore their Irish heritage like a badge of honor and I have to admit it was a badge that looked great on each of them. All four were likeable in their own way and very loyal in not only their relationships with each other, but with anyone who became their friend. Terry’s charm was in his boyish good looks and award winning smile. He was the type that might under any other circumstances charm the pants right off me, but I made sure what transpired between he and I would always be looked upon with a smile and not with regret. Many people come into our lives and then remain there always in our memories. I’m glad Terry and I flirted with disaster and then remained friends.
My next stirring came on gradually. George had the same kind of innocence Terry had, but he had an extra twist that caught my eye. He knew how to play the guitar. No, I wasn’t the groupie type. I simply respect people who have abilities I don’t possess. Jimmy, one of my hometown friends and runners up to becoming my first love introduced me to that respect. He could listen to a song once and then just play it as if he had played it a dozen times. I've always been in awe of anyone who can play music by ear. It's such an incredible talent to have and one I wish I had.
When George and I started talking, it was while we worked on the same crew. We ate at the same time and before too long we started sitting with each other during free time. On Saturday nights when we were forced to dance. George always asked me to dance. We even slow danced a few times, if that’s what you could call it. It was more like two people swaying self-consciously to the music being awkwardly aware of the required distance between them. I often wondered if he ever knew I wanted him to hold me closer. These are the types of things that I left unanswered. George and I remained friends, but stopped spending as much time together. I suppose it was me who pulled back...it usually was. I was a master at constructing walls. My first love, Wayne told me that people who have walls of stone have a wall that certain things can still penetrate. He claimed that I build walls made of rubber so that everything would bounce off them. I suppose he was one who should know best since my walls were something he provided material to build.
Stacy was different. He wasn't on my radar when he first arrived at Kinsman Hall. I had already been a resident for over a year by the time Stacy came on the scene. He wasn’t someone who I had really "noticed" before that day in the dishpan and then BOOM. He had me from the time he playfully snapped my sweet, young ass with a wet dish towel. Stacy just didn’t seem like the type who had a softer side, but he certainly loved to play...and flirt. He seemed more like the type who would purposely avoid doing anything overtly romantic. Nothing about him seemed like it was soft and tender, but he surprised me with the invasiveness of his warmth and proved me wrong. He might have been a bad boy, but he was a bad boy with a heart.
And then there was Bruce and for the first time in my life I allowed myself to feel something adult or what I thought was adult. I had found someone who made me think of houses and children and growing old together. Bruce was what someone might think of when they thought of what an intellectual hippie might look and act like. He was college educated and opened my mind to many things. I wanted him to touch what he had stirred inside me and I was convinced if he ever did that, we’d find some way to overcome all of life’s obstacles and always stay together. The marathon that brought Bruce and I together was many things to many people. For me, it was an awakening, a challenge, a game and yes, it was also painful and brought about an ending I feared and dreaded. I allowed myself to love again...to trust and to want more. For me, that was a major accomplishment even though I had feelings for not one but two guys at the same time. Both pulled at my heart strings in different directions and ultimately, I had to make a decision which way I would go.
When I first arrived at the Marathon Cabin, I was there for fun and games. My friends were starting to leave the program. With each departure I felt a little more alone and uncertain of what my future would bring. My 18th birthday was growing near and for me, that meant certain freedom. This long, strange trip that lasted two years had been aimed at that impending freedom and not having a clue as to what I was going to do with it was weighing heavily on me as the time fast approached for me to leave.
All I needed to do was get through the marathon and go home wherever that place was. Decisions! Decisions! Life is always full of decisions! They say home is where the heart is, but what if a person's heart resides behind a very thick (rubber) wall? Does that mean “home” is always destined to be located behind that wall? How could a positive, healthy concept of home be so disjointed and elusive? HELP ME, LASSIE! Timmy Karen has fallen in the well...