Breaking Up is Hard To Do

When I was in high school, I used to go to the Rocky Horror Picture Show. The guy who played Rocky was my type physically-blonde, blue eyed, with a runner’s body, He was also 24 to my 16. But at 16, I had only been kissed once and was sorely in need of male desire. Rocky was quickly smitten with me as were most of the men at the show. The guy who played Frank, even Pete the blonde and very pretty transvestite with a strange affinity for teal.

Later I would realize how much self restraint these men had demonstrated. I was a virginal 16 year old with an amazing body and a desperate need for male approval. Yet, instead of exploiting me, they protected me. Walking me to my car. Cock blocking me from the less than ethical regulars.

Or most of them did.

Rocky was a notable exception.

He flirted with me to be sure. He was one of the only ones to ask for my number and call me, but he never actually saw me anywhere, but Rocky Horror. We never kissed or held hands. He never so much as bought me a cup of coffee. So imagine my surprise when he introduced me to one of his friends as his girlfriend.

Lucky for me it was a week before I was to go and be a counselor at camp. I figured I just had to ride it out and then I would be safely at camp, and he would hopefully find someone else to be the foci of his romantic delusions. About half way through camp, I got a six page letter from him. Most of the letter was detailing minutiae from his life-oh wait I probably forgot to mention what he did for a living. He was a grave digger.

Yes, a grave digger.

Anyway most of his letter detailed problems with his job, issues with his apartment, the stuff of adult life which at sixteen I was in no rush to encounter. But then this man who had not even so much as put a hand around my waist, started in with the sexual innuendo. He was refreshing his backrub techniques for me. Cleaning up his apartment so it would be nice for me. Clean sheets, the whole thing. I could see where this was going. And me, if you can imagine this, sweet virginal me confronted with real adult male desire was terrified.

There was, to my not very well developed mind, only one solution:Invent a camp romance.

I proceeded to write a letter in which I invented a boyfriend, disabled like myself and a similar age. This boy understood me in ways he just couldn’t. It was no one’s fault, an unfortunate circumstance. That was all.

And that is how I broke up with a man I never dated.

Or so I thought. I received another letter. Just one page this time. Telling me that although he understood, that he was saddened more than I could imagine. “I had so many dreams for us that I was afraid to tell you. I thought about where we would live. Going back to school. What kind of wedding you would want. I never thought I would ever get so close to a girl like to you. I never thought a girl like you would even talk to me. I want you to know I will always feel so close to you, a bond with you that is unbreakable. I will always be there for you if you should need me.”

And that is where it ended.

Although there wasn't anything there in the beginning and he thought I was his girlfriend, so by now we're probably married.