Another ill-Spent Youth Story

Yes, I have lots of them. So?

OK this one takes place…early fall of ‘92. This would be after I fled from AZ to try and escape from myself after an emotional breakup. (I tend to flee whenever things get uncomfortable for me. It's a bad habit.)

When I first called my friend A. back in IN and told her I was getting ready to move back, she helped me find a place to live. She knew a couple of gals going to IU, who needed a third roommate for their townhouse. I talked to them on the phone, and we agreed on rent and stuff. I’d have my own room of course, and share a bathroom and the rest of the place.

So, I moved, it was the very beginning of June…I lasted in that townhouse for only a couple of months. I got along with one of the roomies, but the other one…well, we didn’t.  I wanted to kill  her. (My life with these girls is worthy of its own post…so I won’t go into detail).

I started looking for another place to live.

In the paper, I found an ad to rent a room in a house for cheap. I made an appointment, and went there. It was in the next town over, but not a long drive to work.

It was in a sort-of run down area. The owner of the house was a hillbilly. She’d walled off the living room and family room, turning them into bedrooms….so the result was a house with 5 bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen and a laundry.

I found out I’d be sharing the house with three guys. Two were sort of red-necky hillbillies, and the other one was this huge black guy…and by huge, I don’t mean fat. I mean, he was a body builder, and he was like cut glass. Yummy.

So…my friend A and her boyfriend helped me move all my shit from the townhouse to my new place. I got to know my new roommates around the kitchen table, since that was really the only common area to hang out in, there.  We would actually cook meals, and sit down to eat together when everyone was “home”.

Sharing a bathroom with a couple of guys isn’t that fun though…haha. There was always some kind of nuclear waste accumulated around the shower drain, and I don’t even want to think about what it really was. I was always screaming at them to go clean their nasty shit out of the tub so I could take a shower without vomiting.
Other than that, though, it was pretty fun.

Of course we were all pretty young, so we’d drink and smoke pot and listen to loud music and all the normal things you’re supposed to do when you’re that age.

I got along with the gorgeous black guy (We’ll call him Rocko) and one of the redneck-y guys (we’ll call him Gordon) and I did NOT get along with the second redneck, though we “tolerated” each other (we’ll call him Douche-bag). Douchebag and I mostly ignored each other.

So Rocko liked his alcohol. Gordon liked his weed…and I reaped the rewards of their individual addictions, there was always some substance in the house to alter my mood with. We had fun hanging out.

Eventually, of course, because I was a slut in those days, Rocko and I started hanging out in his room or my room. He was very pretty to look at, especially without a shirt on, haha. We’d get drunk, and then mess around.

This was a little bit risky, because he had a girlfriend. She was maybe even a little taller than me, and out-weighed me by a good 40 pounds…I was stick-thin in those days. She was not, lol. She could have easily kicked my ass…but she was living in Chicago, and I figured she wouldn’t come to see him without giving him advance notice.

So anyway, Rocko and I were not boyfriend/girlfriend…just friends with benefits, and that was totally fine with me. I was dating a couple of other guys (slut, I told you) and I had no interest in anything serious.

One night, Rocko and Gordon were out, and I was just hanging out alone in my room watching TV or whatever. Douchebag was also home, and getting drunk all by himself. When I went into the kitchen, he was sitting at the table with his whiskey, looking shitfaced and mean. I just ignored him, got my snack, and went back to my room.

A few minutes later, he knocked on my bedroom door.

Douchebag: “Hey, let me in.”

Me: “Go away.”

Douchebag: “Let me in, you stupid bitch!”

Me: “Fuck OFF, Douchebag! Leave me alone!”

I’m also getting very scared right now, because it’s just a shitty bedroom door between me and him, and he could easily kick it in.

Then he started calling me every name he could think of, banging on the door.  I had my dog, Sundae, with me, but she was no protection at all. So I grabbed my purse and keys, put her leash on, and we climbed out my bedroom window. Got in my truck, and drove to my aunt’s in Bloomington to spend the night.

The next day, I went home. Rocko was there and I told him what happened. He didn’t like Douchebag anyway, so this really pissed him off.  We were in the kitchen when Rocko confronted him and told him that if he ever pulled that shit again, he would kick Douchebag’s ass.

“Oooh, I’m soooo scared,” said Douchebag.

“I didn’t say you had to be scared. You can be brave the whole time if you want to, but I’m still going to beat the shit out of you, you stupid hillbilly,” Rocko replied calmly.

Hahaha. Douchebag didn’t say much more, because it was abundantly clear that Rocko was more than capable of tearing him in half.

After that, Douchebag stayed away from me. I still had fun with Rocko and Gordon. Eventually, the day came where Rocko said he was moving out…well I didn’t want to live there without him to keep Douchebag in line, so I started looking for a new living situation immediately.

Luckily (luckily for me, anyway, haha), my friend A. was kicking her live-in boyfriend to the curb…so that meant I could move in there, which I did.

And that’s a whole other story…LOL.

Anyway…I found a photo of Rocko while I was going through and scanning bunches of old pix. It was taken with him standing in my bedroom doorway. He’s got his shirt in his hand, so I’m sure I must have demanded that he take it off so I could photo him. Hahaha!

Last I’d heard, he moved to Chicago, but that was like, 17 years ago (he's pushing 50 now...he was 30 when I knew him)…and of course, I wonder what he’s doing now…like Kiersten...like Chris…like Kirsi…and about a million other people from the past.