At eighteen, she was on the cusp of womanhood. We met in freshman physical science, a class I endured rather than enjoyed. She was a transfer student, repeating a few courses due to her modeling career.
Initially, I didn't notice her. My attention was focused on navigating Mr. Pool's tedious lectures and outdated textbook. My energy was primarily channeled into a rebellious form of note-taking. These humorous, thoughtful notes were circulated like a magazine, with me as the sole contributor. My topics ranged from gossip to music reviews, fashion critiques, and social events.
My readership was largely female – cheerleaders, dancers, the popular and affluent. Occasionally, I'd become involved with a popular, naive girl, but these relationships were short-lived due to my conservative nature.
One day, Joy, the transfer student, entered my sphere.
"Hey," she greeted me.
"Hey," I replied, "You're beautiful. You should model."
She smiled and handed me a note with unfamiliar song lyrics. "You look like Michael Hutchence," it read. The comparison to the late INXS frontman felt serendipitous, as I'd recently won their album in a radio contest.
"Love them," she said of the band. "Deep, but not overly so...part Duran Duran, part The Smiths, but without Morrissey's pretentiousness."
"Yeah, they're cool," I mumbled.
She was cool, but in an unconventional way. Mature for her age, tall, and strikingly attractive. She was the embodiment of the nascent goth scene. There was a natural sophistication to her wit and a certain aloofness that intrigued me. She drove a black Ford Escort.
The following day, we walked to class together. During the lecture, she passed me a notebook titled "Disco Babies." I responded by writing "Rock and Roll Momma" and "Rap Daddy." We filled the notebook with esoteric musings until the lights came on, startling the drowsy students. The bell rang, and she offered me a ride home.
I eagerly accepted.
Over the next few months, Joy became my mentor. She introduced me to high-end salons and exclusive shops, her network of creative peers, and a subculture of alternative music, fashion, and lifestyles. It was an accelerated education in the real world, far more valuable than any traditional classroom experience.
Joy frequently suggested I was gay, a notion that repulsed me. I heard stories about her ex-girlfriend, Deidre, who lived with a gay man named Brian. Brian worked at a popular restaurant where my new life often intersected with my old one.
Years later, after Joy had moved on, I relocated to the city, living with my father. "Cool" was no longer an aspiration; it was simply a facet of my existence. I excelled as a waiter, and Brian, now openly gay, welcomed another homosexual onto the staff. Our shared experience was brief but enjoyable, ending when I moved into Deidre's former room after she relocated to Los Angeles.
On my twentieth birthday, I visited Brian. After a memorable St. Patrick's Day party, he confided in me his plans for gender reassignment surgery.
Over the years, Brie-Ann (formerly Brian) and I would reconnect, reminiscing and celebrating. Then she moved to Hawaii with a wealthy partner, and we lost touch.
One night, nearing my thirtieth birthday, she called. She was in distress, trapped in a dependent relationship. She implored me to visit for our birthdays. After weeks of preparation, I relocated to Hawaii.
This weekend, there's a reunion of my chosen family in Maui. The woman I met in my early twenties is having a second wedding. Everyone I love is there, except me. Amy, the bride, was once a close friend. I was the first person she called after her legal marriage and the last person she called before attempting suicide last year. She apologized.
Our relationship was complex. She was the first person to betray me, triggering a series of events that devastated my life. I gave her everything, and she destroyed it all. It was faith and spirituality that guided me through, but the experience fundamentally changed me.
Her betrayal shattered my belief system, everything I held sacred. It was love and drugs, the destroyers of well-being. The shock of deceit and lack of empathy was overwhelming.
Yet, from that darkness, something positive emerged. Cosmic intention led me to profound wisdom.
And now? Now I'm alright.
The past is filled with lessons and regrets, but also beautiful memories, like the wedding in Maui. Although I wasn't invited, I'm reminded of the joy and pain of shared experiences.
I've always enjoyed socializing. It's part of my heritage. I'm also fortunate to possess self-awareness, lacking the ambition that often leads to failure. There's a love that comes from silent trust, respect for another's morals.
Lady, my former roommate, once remarked that she thought she was getting a gay roommate, but ended up with a surrogate son she adored. She also enjoyed socializing but preferred pain pills to alcohol. The allure of those pills was a constant temptation I had to resist.
The phrase "slippery slope" became a shared cautionary phrase between Brie-Ann and me.
Reflecting on my life, I've come to realize I'm almost always right. It's not due to chance, skill, or timing; it's simply an inherent trait.
However, being right can be perilous if not handled carefully. It can lead to a kind of nonexistence, the death of imagination.
And that's a punishment too cruel to inflict on anyone.
